Forty Years Ago

Yes, it's forty years ago now that I went away by train to Arborfield. I was just short of my sixteenth birthday. The picture above is of B Squad of Junior Company, taken a few weeks later once we had got our kit sorted out. I'm seated at the right of the front row, and not best pleased about it all by the look of it. The weird thing is that I can still remember this photo being taken ... how tired I felt, even the all-pervading smells of polish, Brasso and blanco!

The advert. below (found in a Meccano Magazine, for those who remember those) shows what the plan was meant to be. But, no, that smart young sergeant isn't me. Perish the thought! I remained true to my mates, and never advanced beyond Apprentice Tradesman during my time at the Army Apprentices' College. In fact I'm proud to recall that at my Passing-Out Parade three years later, I was the only soldier in the Senior Division without any badges of rank at all (even the Reviewing Officer commented on this)! [I wanted to do this paragraph in yellow, to reflect the Corps colours of red, yellow, and blue, but it doesn't show up too well]


Yes, I'm pleased to say that I served without military distinction, but was still able to excel at what really mattered, which was the REME trade training. That was, after all, why we were there. I even managed to win a prize for my outstanding skills in engineering drawing!

Time to Shed a Tear

It's two years now since that lousy day when my trusty Rascal van (Jorge) was smashed into at my brother’s place in the woods, and all my tools and test equipment stolen.

The door-way to the right of the picture opens into my Dad’s shed, where as a youngster I had “helped” him to rebuild engines (and all the rest), learned a good deal, and absorbed a fair few good cussings!

When I come to think about it, that place has an almost sacred significance for me.

To have been away so long, and come back again, and to have that happen in such a spot … well, it was like something that Stephen King would write about, wasn’t it?

Spooky. Or Divine Retribution?

Wonder whether Dad can see my blog up there (but, there again, he would already know, wouldn’t he)?