This is definitely the best weekend ever.
House full of sleeping people covering floors, sofas and every bed, including ex-husband's step-son. How very modern.
H just left to go back to Dartmouth, R chatting with a friend upstairs, I've just finished kitchen duty and fed them all, and C gone to get my car from the pub where it was left after the rugby.
Lazy, lazy day. If only it could be like this for ever.
Fellow soldier's Mum reminded me to enjoy every minute, which is just what is happening. For now, a war is a million miles away.
Thank you Lord.
Speak soon. A soldier's Mum x
Sunday, 28 February 2010
Saturday, 27 February 2010
Day 147 Week 20
Wow.
C unpacked his kit bag and there it all was. Desert combats, webbing, armour, boots, helmet, all smelling of a foreign land so far away and yet so connected to our lives.
Sat talking to him this morning and he is so much older than when he went out. I'd noticed, since he came back, that he'd suddenly say 'God this is weird', and he was obviously heavily preoccupied but sitting listening to him describe what they'd been through was salutary.
They helped build a road into the green-zone, so called because it's in the valley of the Helmund river and the terrain is lush and fertile as opposed to the barren arid emptiness of the desert. Well more precisely they protected the Engineers while they built the road. He had a pet dog, which he loved, but unfortunately she had to be destroyed when they moved because life was too uncertain for her. He showed me a map of the region with its alien sounding names interspersed with the all to familiar ones that we hear on the news.
He told me his men were awesome, the best bunch of guys in the world. He told me he loved them and would miss them beyond words when they're replaced. Then a friend rang who had also come home and I heard him chat about the tour and then he said he couldn't go into too graphic descriptions of what had happened because he was with his mother.
He told me he felt angry all the time, and would I forgive him if he was snappy. I told him I was so proud of him, and that even though I had tried to persuade him not to join the army, I couldn't think more highly of him under any circumstances. He showed me the St Christopher medal I'd given him, which he wore all the time on the same chord as his ID tags.
Then I went into the kitchen to make a cup of tea and I found a list he'd written on the floor next to the washing machine of all the people in the platoon, including himself, with all their blood groups next to their names.
Finally H arrived home having been on the scent of a woman, and R staggered downstairs looking unreasonably gorgeous even though she'd obviously been wrecked the night before, and I duly took up my position in the kitchen and produced endless bacon sandwiches. Took C's gorgeous girlfriend home and H, C and R gone out with a friend to our nearest town. C wants to get a plaque to take back out as a memorial to one of his friends and comrades.
God bless them all.
Anyway, on a lighter note, it's down to the pub to watch the Rugby this afternoon. Definitely got divided loyalties over the England v Ireland game.
Speak soon. A soldier's Mum x
C unpacked his kit bag and there it all was. Desert combats, webbing, armour, boots, helmet, all smelling of a foreign land so far away and yet so connected to our lives.
Sat talking to him this morning and he is so much older than when he went out. I'd noticed, since he came back, that he'd suddenly say 'God this is weird', and he was obviously heavily preoccupied but sitting listening to him describe what they'd been through was salutary.
They helped build a road into the green-zone, so called because it's in the valley of the Helmund river and the terrain is lush and fertile as opposed to the barren arid emptiness of the desert. Well more precisely they protected the Engineers while they built the road. He had a pet dog, which he loved, but unfortunately she had to be destroyed when they moved because life was too uncertain for her. He showed me a map of the region with its alien sounding names interspersed with the all to familiar ones that we hear on the news.
He told me his men were awesome, the best bunch of guys in the world. He told me he loved them and would miss them beyond words when they're replaced. Then a friend rang who had also come home and I heard him chat about the tour and then he said he couldn't go into too graphic descriptions of what had happened because he was with his mother.
He told me he felt angry all the time, and would I forgive him if he was snappy. I told him I was so proud of him, and that even though I had tried to persuade him not to join the army, I couldn't think more highly of him under any circumstances. He showed me the St Christopher medal I'd given him, which he wore all the time on the same chord as his ID tags.
Then I went into the kitchen to make a cup of tea and I found a list he'd written on the floor next to the washing machine of all the people in the platoon, including himself, with all their blood groups next to their names.
Finally H arrived home having been on the scent of a woman, and R staggered downstairs looking unreasonably gorgeous even though she'd obviously been wrecked the night before, and I duly took up my position in the kitchen and produced endless bacon sandwiches. Took C's gorgeous girlfriend home and H, C and R gone out with a friend to our nearest town. C wants to get a plaque to take back out as a memorial to one of his friends and comrades.
God bless them all.
Anyway, on a lighter note, it's down to the pub to watch the Rugby this afternoon. Definitely got divided loyalties over the England v Ireland game.
Speak soon. A soldier's Mum x
Friday, 26 February 2010
Day 146 Week 20
Is this the best day ever? If it ends as well as it began then it will be up there with the really special ones.
Slept the sleep of the cossetted innocent. Woke up this morning and was stunned yet again to realise life had morphed into a world of happiness, fun and contentment. Got ready for work and C was still slumbering with gorgeous girlfriend and the house felt fabulous. Even R was pleasant. And it was before eight o'clock in the morning, a time when usually it's strictly one snarl or two.
Drove into work, singing. Then had the two most challenging lessons of the week but they were an absolute joy and the boys were brilliant and the classes flew by in three hours of enthusiastic English and Maths accompanied by superb attitude and good manners. Read for exams in the afternoon and everyone passed really solidly.
Arrived home and if it was possible, things just got better and better. H at last home so lots more hugging and kissing, and now friends are in attendance. Went to the supermarket to buy them some nibbles and alcohol and met my boss who blew me away with her kindness and insisted on buying them a drink, as she felt sure they'd earnt it.
They've gobbled the solids and quaffed the liquids. Am now sitting at my laptop with gentle witty banter filling the air and they're getting ready to go out on the razzle.
Oh thank you God, never thought there'd be a day like this again.
Heard from fellow soldier's Mum and she said to buy him a drink too.
This is certainly one of the best.
Speak soon. A soldier's Mum x
Slept the sleep of the cossetted innocent. Woke up this morning and was stunned yet again to realise life had morphed into a world of happiness, fun and contentment. Got ready for work and C was still slumbering with gorgeous girlfriend and the house felt fabulous. Even R was pleasant. And it was before eight o'clock in the morning, a time when usually it's strictly one snarl or two.
Drove into work, singing. Then had the two most challenging lessons of the week but they were an absolute joy and the boys were brilliant and the classes flew by in three hours of enthusiastic English and Maths accompanied by superb attitude and good manners. Read for exams in the afternoon and everyone passed really solidly.
Arrived home and if it was possible, things just got better and better. H at last home so lots more hugging and kissing, and now friends are in attendance. Went to the supermarket to buy them some nibbles and alcohol and met my boss who blew me away with her kindness and insisted on buying them a drink, as she felt sure they'd earnt it.
They've gobbled the solids and quaffed the liquids. Am now sitting at my laptop with gentle witty banter filling the air and they're getting ready to go out on the razzle.
Oh thank you God, never thought there'd be a day like this again.
Heard from fellow soldier's Mum and she said to buy him a drink too.
This is certainly one of the best.
Speak soon. A soldier's Mum x
Thursday, 25 February 2010
Day 145 Week 20
Well the gathering in the pub was brilliant. Over twenty people turned out on a very wet, bleak, work-night to toast his home coming and cannot thank them enough for yet another example of their unstinting support. He looked gorgeous but thin, and very tanned and goodness the desert combats are cool. Dear friend commented he looked more like he'd been on holiday than at war.
I arrived slightly late as I'd lost my glove whilst walking across the Common. R rang and demanded 'where are you', and when I told her she just said 'why the hell are you looking for a glove?'. Thought it would have been perfectly obvious. I'd dropped one when my cousin rang, lost, to ask for directions, and one thing our family is imbued with is a tremendous sense of superstition, and to have your glove picked up by another is the most dreadful bad luck. Apparently it stems from the days when gentlemen challenging for a duel would hand the aforementioned article over as a means of provoking the dispute. Nothing was to ruin this evening, real or perceived.
Anyway finally arrived at the pub with the glove and cousin found, and walked in to the old 'he's not here, he got fed up with waiting' routine at which point he jumped out, roared like a tiger and hugged me like a bear. Oh my, it was one of the most wonderful things that has happened to me for years. Sobbed and laughed simultaneously, and put my arms around him and kissed, and kissed his cheek. Could not believe I'd actually got my baby back safe and sound. In truth my daily dread for months had been that I would never ever see him again, or that he would be so completely altered that in effect it wasn't the same person at all. Just kept looking at him, not fully believing he was really there, and had to keep checking I wasn't imagining the whole thing.
C was lauded like the mini-hero to us he is, and drinks bought for him in abundance. I retired home at the respectable hour of eight thirty, and thanked the Lord for the day given. C, R and the other young ones went on and painted the town red, and I went to bed without the lead weight of misery for the first time in a very long time.
Woke up with a start at six this morning from a horrible dream which included the children's father, to a complete lack of vision and head split in half by a metaphorical dagger. Migraine. Took tablets, rang work and eventually managed to sleep it off and drive to college. Everyone so sweet, it seems I looked wonderful despite several hours of pain, and was told I hadn't stopped smiling since yesterday lunchtime. It's only when you're rid of being care-worn that you realise just how care-worn you'd become.
I know he has to go back, but my this feels good.
C went up to London this morning to see fellow soldier who's back 'out' tomorrow. H sent a message saying 'tell him not to spend all his money - we're buying that house next year. Well he can get rid of a couple of grand if he must', and R been lounging around all day in recovery.
Sadly on the way home the harshness of reality bit and heard the news and an airman and a soldier from 4 Rifles have been taken, may they RIP. When I spoke to C it transpired the rifleman was one of the guys of the friend he was visiting up in town. It's such a cruel, cruel war.
Fellow soldier's Mum said enjoy everything and make the most of the good when you have it.
With the help of God, I shall.
Speak soon. A soldier's Mum x
I arrived slightly late as I'd lost my glove whilst walking across the Common. R rang and demanded 'where are you', and when I told her she just said 'why the hell are you looking for a glove?'. Thought it would have been perfectly obvious. I'd dropped one when my cousin rang, lost, to ask for directions, and one thing our family is imbued with is a tremendous sense of superstition, and to have your glove picked up by another is the most dreadful bad luck. Apparently it stems from the days when gentlemen challenging for a duel would hand the aforementioned article over as a means of provoking the dispute. Nothing was to ruin this evening, real or perceived.
Anyway finally arrived at the pub with the glove and cousin found, and walked in to the old 'he's not here, he got fed up with waiting' routine at which point he jumped out, roared like a tiger and hugged me like a bear. Oh my, it was one of the most wonderful things that has happened to me for years. Sobbed and laughed simultaneously, and put my arms around him and kissed, and kissed his cheek. Could not believe I'd actually got my baby back safe and sound. In truth my daily dread for months had been that I would never ever see him again, or that he would be so completely altered that in effect it wasn't the same person at all. Just kept looking at him, not fully believing he was really there, and had to keep checking I wasn't imagining the whole thing.
C was lauded like the mini-hero to us he is, and drinks bought for him in abundance. I retired home at the respectable hour of eight thirty, and thanked the Lord for the day given. C, R and the other young ones went on and painted the town red, and I went to bed without the lead weight of misery for the first time in a very long time.
Woke up with a start at six this morning from a horrible dream which included the children's father, to a complete lack of vision and head split in half by a metaphorical dagger. Migraine. Took tablets, rang work and eventually managed to sleep it off and drive to college. Everyone so sweet, it seems I looked wonderful despite several hours of pain, and was told I hadn't stopped smiling since yesterday lunchtime. It's only when you're rid of being care-worn that you realise just how care-worn you'd become.
I know he has to go back, but my this feels good.
C went up to London this morning to see fellow soldier who's back 'out' tomorrow. H sent a message saying 'tell him not to spend all his money - we're buying that house next year. Well he can get rid of a couple of grand if he must', and R been lounging around all day in recovery.
Sadly on the way home the harshness of reality bit and heard the news and an airman and a soldier from 4 Rifles have been taken, may they RIP. When I spoke to C it transpired the rifleman was one of the guys of the friend he was visiting up in town. It's such a cruel, cruel war.
Fellow soldier's Mum said enjoy everything and make the most of the good when you have it.
With the help of God, I shall.
Speak soon. A soldier's Mum x
Wednesday, 24 February 2010
Day 144 Week 20
Eight thirty in the morning and fingers and toes tingling and all of a dither because R supposed to be collecting C from Brize just before lunchtime today. Must re-focus though because when I parked the car this morning at college, as I got out, I watched it gently roll away. Forgotten to put the handbrake on. Opened the door, grabbed the steering wheel and screamed as a really nice guy gallantly ran in front of the bonnet and arrested its attempt to get-away. Oops.
Now it's twelve thirty and I've just rung C's phone which leapt into life with the UK ring tone for the first time in months, and then his familiar voice said 'Ma, how are you'. Cannot being to put the emotions into words.
R driving and they've just left Brize and are thankfully heading down the A40, and he told me it felt good but really strange to be on home soil. Had a really brief converstion finishing with love you, love you and love you more. But then resumed to business as usual when, not knowing if he knew about the impromptu gathering this evening I asked him to ask R if I'm to send 'the message' out. Which he duly did and her perfectly audible background reply was 'tell her she, like, knows to tell everyone to come to the pub, and like, stop being such a freak', and C laughed and said 'did you get that Ma?'.
Colleague just asked me if there was any news and couldn't contain it any longer and just screamed 'he's back', and the most enormous cheer went round the office.
Today is a day to be cherished.
Not heard from H, but in this era of fibre optic communication assume he knows the news.
And sadly finishing on a very sombre note, heard from fellow soldier's Mum and she's going this afternoon to the funeral of her son's friend and colleague who was repatriated the day her son flew back out. May he rest in peace.
Thank you Lord for all your kindness to us.
Speak soon. A soldier's Mum x
Now it's twelve thirty and I've just rung C's phone which leapt into life with the UK ring tone for the first time in months, and then his familiar voice said 'Ma, how are you'. Cannot being to put the emotions into words.
R driving and they've just left Brize and are thankfully heading down the A40, and he told me it felt good but really strange to be on home soil. Had a really brief converstion finishing with love you, love you and love you more. But then resumed to business as usual when, not knowing if he knew about the impromptu gathering this evening I asked him to ask R if I'm to send 'the message' out. Which he duly did and her perfectly audible background reply was 'tell her she, like, knows to tell everyone to come to the pub, and like, stop being such a freak', and C laughed and said 'did you get that Ma?'.
Colleague just asked me if there was any news and couldn't contain it any longer and just screamed 'he's back', and the most enormous cheer went round the office.
Today is a day to be cherished.
Not heard from H, but in this era of fibre optic communication assume he knows the news.
And sadly finishing on a very sombre note, heard from fellow soldier's Mum and she's going this afternoon to the funeral of her son's friend and colleague who was repatriated the day her son flew back out. May he rest in peace.
Thank you Lord for all your kindness to us.
Speak soon. A soldier's Mum x
Tuesday, 23 February 2010
Day 143 Week 20
Well this is almost intolerable. Plane still broken and no C home.
Not sure if it's today or tomorrow or even the day after that. Spontaneous gathering in the local pub rescheduled from Monday evening to Tuesday evening and hopefully now it will be Wednesday evening.
Have been limping to yesterday morning since he first went out there and to have the arrival point constantly nudged out of the way is horrible. I just want to scream.
Everyone at work being really sweet and supportive and that helps enormously. People are gently smiling and saying 'any news?', and the only answer possible is alas 'no'. Am just hoping they give him the time back at the other side of the period he was granted, please don't say he'll be cut short as well as messed around. A colleague just reminded me to keep my pecker up and then asked where mine was and the only thing I could say was 'all over the bloody place'. God I hate these shifting finishing lines.
A dreadful car bomb has been set off by rebel Republicans in Northern Ireland and apparently it was a miracle no one was killed. Also see that there is a conference in South America and Argentina has tabled a vote of sanction against British oil exploration, with Venezuela leaping in offering military support against what it perceives as 'imperialistic tyranny'. There must be something in the air at the moment, everything is so aggressive.
Keep checking my phone and e-mails but still no news. Keep trying to retain a spiritual aspect by reminding myself that everything happens for a reason and there was a purpose to him not flying home when initially intended. And as my dear colleague pointed out it's better that the plane broke down on the ground rather than at thirty-five thousand feet in the air.
And now the French air traffic controllers have gone on strike and hope and pray that won't delay everything even further.
The weather's grey and bleak and claggy and it's freezing cold and H says the air force are always unreliable, but somehow feel he's jaundiced.
Fellow soldier's Mum really kind, friends as ever overwhelming, and family constantly sending messages of love.
Just got home and R so sweet and the house really warm and cosy and good to walk into, but just lacking in something somehow.
Speak soon. A soldier's Mum x
Not sure if it's today or tomorrow or even the day after that. Spontaneous gathering in the local pub rescheduled from Monday evening to Tuesday evening and hopefully now it will be Wednesday evening.
Have been limping to yesterday morning since he first went out there and to have the arrival point constantly nudged out of the way is horrible. I just want to scream.
Everyone at work being really sweet and supportive and that helps enormously. People are gently smiling and saying 'any news?', and the only answer possible is alas 'no'. Am just hoping they give him the time back at the other side of the period he was granted, please don't say he'll be cut short as well as messed around. A colleague just reminded me to keep my pecker up and then asked where mine was and the only thing I could say was 'all over the bloody place'. God I hate these shifting finishing lines.
A dreadful car bomb has been set off by rebel Republicans in Northern Ireland and apparently it was a miracle no one was killed. Also see that there is a conference in South America and Argentina has tabled a vote of sanction against British oil exploration, with Venezuela leaping in offering military support against what it perceives as 'imperialistic tyranny'. There must be something in the air at the moment, everything is so aggressive.
Keep checking my phone and e-mails but still no news. Keep trying to retain a spiritual aspect by reminding myself that everything happens for a reason and there was a purpose to him not flying home when initially intended. And as my dear colleague pointed out it's better that the plane broke down on the ground rather than at thirty-five thousand feet in the air.
And now the French air traffic controllers have gone on strike and hope and pray that won't delay everything even further.
The weather's grey and bleak and claggy and it's freezing cold and H says the air force are always unreliable, but somehow feel he's jaundiced.
Fellow soldier's Mum really kind, friends as ever overwhelming, and family constantly sending messages of love.
Just got home and R so sweet and the house really warm and cosy and good to walk into, but just lacking in something somehow.
Speak soon. A soldier's Mum x
Monday, 22 February 2010
Day 142 Week 20
I feel like a zombie. C due to arrive at eight thirty this morning and then it was delayed until lunchtime, and then it was pushed back to tea time, and following that the postponement was to late this evening, and just heard from R it will now be tomorrow at the earliest.
Did not sleep a wink last night and today feels like I'm dead from the neck upwards.
Completely appreciate that the transportation capacity is rationed, and if something more pressing than a soldier going home on leave comes up then obviously that will take priority, but the sense of anti-climax is stifling.
Must hold on to the thought that God willing he's safe and at least presumably not on duty on the front line, but had so set myself up for seeing him tonight that it's been a huge tumble in morale to change plans and be denied him at the very last moment. Really want to howl like a baby, but fortunately am at work and it's the second half of a split lunchtime, and have no alternative but to remain professional and hold it together. Just have to think of the poor souls who only come home draped in a flag to put things into perspective. God bless them.
All the best things in life are worth waiting for and patience is a virtue.
Just received a message from C which is less than complimentary about the RAF, and H thinks flying should be left to the Army and Navy. Guess the setback could be due to technical difficulties afterall. Still you win some you loose some, and the Navy's technical hitch allowed H to be home for C's party prior to this whole topsey turvey sojourn. And must cling on to the fact that please God everyone's well and in all reality this is only really an inconvenience.
H hacked off. R really patient and keeping me up to date. And fellow soldier's Mum sends her love.
Please God we all sleep safe and sound tonight.
Speak soon. A soldier's Mum x
Did not sleep a wink last night and today feels like I'm dead from the neck upwards.
Completely appreciate that the transportation capacity is rationed, and if something more pressing than a soldier going home on leave comes up then obviously that will take priority, but the sense of anti-climax is stifling.
Must hold on to the thought that God willing he's safe and at least presumably not on duty on the front line, but had so set myself up for seeing him tonight that it's been a huge tumble in morale to change plans and be denied him at the very last moment. Really want to howl like a baby, but fortunately am at work and it's the second half of a split lunchtime, and have no alternative but to remain professional and hold it together. Just have to think of the poor souls who only come home draped in a flag to put things into perspective. God bless them.
All the best things in life are worth waiting for and patience is a virtue.
Just received a message from C which is less than complimentary about the RAF, and H thinks flying should be left to the Army and Navy. Guess the setback could be due to technical difficulties afterall. Still you win some you loose some, and the Navy's technical hitch allowed H to be home for C's party prior to this whole topsey turvey sojourn. And must cling on to the fact that please God everyone's well and in all reality this is only really an inconvenience.
H hacked off. R really patient and keeping me up to date. And fellow soldier's Mum sends her love.
Please God we all sleep safe and sound tonight.
Speak soon. A soldier's Mum x
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