The Sowph

Cantebury, Faversham, Battle, & Hastings (Not the same place)
Day ? I want to say Saturday

So 'ere we are roaming the south (souwph, if yer frem douwn vere, wot) and you know it's like the rest of the world, "You take the good, you take the bad..." and all that. And wander we did not knowing what we were doing, where we were going, much less when we were going to leave Ol' Blighty. Which except for the not knowing thing was actually great, but whole, "Am I AWOL?" thing kind put a dampener on things, yeah. I think it were Faversham in the AM when I finally got through to the travel people, granted they told me they didn't know a damn thing either, but I talked to a human being, who basically said, "Give me your email and I'll let you know." which seemed to turn into a lie, but I guess it could have been a mistake with my email, but again if you don't think you heard it right... repeat it back, yeah. 'Tever though, it is what it is. Turns out we still had like a week at this point but, like I said we didn't know. All we could hear is how much people wanted to get back to the UK, I guess it really is how the old song says, "Take me back to dear ol' Blighty, Take me over there, drop me ANYWHERE... Birmingham, well I don't care" (sorry me Brummies I didn't write it, yeah

So Cantebury was cool, we walked 'round and saw the sights, we got there a little late so, much was closed and all that but still cute little town. As long as you stay away from all the "Chaucer's (Fill In the Blank)" tourist traps and whatnot. We had a good Italian dinner where were the only ones in the place. And then on to Faversham home of Shepherd's Neame Brewery, makers of Spitfire (which we knew and had drank) and a lot of other good ales that we drank that night. We stayed at a Beer & Bed, how can it get any better than that right. We did 'ave to listen to some Cockney lass who thought she'd talk footy, but didn't know who managed "er teem, wot" she got on me nerves, but Jennifer took it all in stride. Might be cos she couldn't cut "froo va radies a'cen" either way as the ale flowed I got o'er it too. We had a lovely room and relaxed the best we could.

What I di'nt mention was that after our Heathrow ghost town adventure we stayed at a place called Staines. And yeah with a name like Staines we shurra known better. Not that it was 'orrible... we had a fantastic dinner of Macaroni & Cheese. The Travelogdge that we stayed at wasn't very high class, but it was a good 'nough place to watch "Doctor Who" and figure out what to do next.

Interlude Iraq: Part One


"If Someone Doesn't Do Something With That..."



Or so began the First Sergeant one day. He was pointing at a bench seat from one of the vans that someone had taken out for some reason, and for reasons unknown thought it would be okay to leave laying around for a week or two. This obviously wasn't going to go down with the 1SG, who continued. "...or I am going to throw it away." Next thing I know there it is...

Yup, leave it to the Caveman to fix us up a bench inside the ol' bunker. I have to say it has been well used and enjoyed by all of us since. The amazing thing is how it gets so dirty so fast. No wonder I feel filthy all the damn time. And clothes feel greasy an' all that. Now that we are turning everything, not quite sure what we are going to do with it. I think I am going to just try and leave it there. I know that I would be pretty happy to find it there, Hell of a lot better than hunching over in there, in hopes to get out of the sun, wind, rain, etc... you know generally shite weather, that is Iraq.



End Interlude Part One

Now remember all those History classes where they talked about the Battle of Hastings? Well they are actually two different places and no battle took place at Hastings, though according to a sign we read as we blew through town it is the "Birthplace of Television." Never knew that one, not really sure that I do now, but I did read it so...

So for a couple o' pounds we took the walking tour of the Battlefield. Fekinell, war was 'ard then, yeah. You look out across the fields and hills and bogs and creeks and lakes and brambles and all and think about charging straight at the enemy either on horseback or on foot. There were signs that said what happened where and what happened next, taking the high ground was key to it all really. Then we toured the adjoining Abbey (there had to be something to battle 'bout, right?) which was pretty cool. Part of it is tourist attraction and part is still a school, has been for years and years.

A view back towards the Abbey from the battlefield.

Now the missus and I we kinda like the ol' abbey's and their ruins. Matter o' fact when she was building and planning the new porch in the backyard, my input was the words, "ruined abbey" she did a right fantastic job and has even more ideas to continue. Quite proud of the lady, I am. "Fine job wife, i's right." Hope to see everyone there when I get back to share an ale and relax, if not before then in September for the party I suppose (and if you can't make it in September, c'mon by when'er you can, the beer's always cold.)
The insides of the Abbey.

Interlude Iraq: Part Two

A Creature (of Habit)


That is what I have become I guess, so much so that it kinda frightens me. You know I always give the missus a hard time when she can't find her keys, cos I always put mine in the same place. She doesn't, so generally she finds mine and then I have to take them from her when we get home, so that she doesn't loose them too.
But here I've only gotten worse I think. I do the same ritual every damn day ('cept "down days" back when we used to get 'em {don' worry la' they'll come again, yeah}) mainly cos the few times I've messed up the ritual, I've been ruined for the day. I get up put on my socks, pants, and t-shirt. Cross over and put on my boots, but do not tie them. Then i's off to the latrine to piss, brush teeth, and shave. Now 'eaven forbid I ever shave and then brush my teeth! I don't even think I could anymore, not without serious (maybe hypnosis) re-training. Then back to the trailer to drop off my kit and back outside to tie my boots and blouse my pants. Back into put on deodorant, take my stuff out of my cover (hat) strap on the pistol, put on the top, grab the backpack (or laundry bag, I don't like to carry both {neither does my back or neck}). Out the door, turn left (even though I should technically go right as that is the direction that the compound is {don't judge me!}) and to the office.
Things can get change throughout the day but generally I dump any old coffee out of the pot and make some for the day.
Then back home take off the blouse, drop the pistol belt, put my keys, lighter, chapstick, wallet, and watch in my cover and put it by the bed. Again this is where it all changes again (unless you can call waking up every couple of hours for whatever reason {usually discomfort} part of a routine...). Then up in the morning and do it all again.
Whatever happened to the rebel who did whatever he wanted? I need to go home I guess. No I know I do. Everyday reminds me more and more...

Oh yeah that's me early one morning up on the tower. I wanted to get the antennas down (more on RDoF later) before they got too hot and burnt my hands. It is pro'ly 'round 0630 at the latest here.

End Interlude Part Two

Me and the missus on the battlefield at Battle (not Hastings)

Special Bonus: "Farewell to the Smash Hits..."

Cheers,
g