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Fencing Sculptor's Diary

The Ramblings of a Reluctant Civil Servant

I will not be pushed, filed, stamped, indexed, briefed, debriefed or numbered
me
fencingsculptor
Well from this evening I most deffinately will be numbered (as if iwe aren't already in this fine democratic Banana Republic of ours), as tonight I am attested into a Squadron of the Royal Yeomanry and the Territorial Army.

I still haven't told my folks as they will equate this to
"Your going to be sent off to War ...where you will die horribly at the hands of an [delete as applicable] Exploding Fatwa Pixie/Islamic Extremist/Taliban Extremist/A 1985 Landrover which will squish you/you'll go to Deepcut Barracks and shoot yourself in the head.....three times.....from behind"

After tonight (once I have the all clear re my ankles) lies my CBT, or Combat Basic Training course. 6 weekends devoted to running, jumping marching, lifting, marching, running, ,lifting, standing, running, crawling, marching, running, running, running and some extra running, after which will follow two weeks billeted at an army base somewhere with a rifle range, where the fools will hand me an L85 (A1 or A2) and see whether I qualify as a 'Steely Eyed Dealer of Death', or..... an Army chef !

.....and not necessarily the sort of Steven Segal Chef !

I should be proud nervous excited ...all of the above.

But the fact that I'm up to my eyes in crap at work, that I can't tell my folks, that I'm trying to recover from my ankle op (which isn't feeling great)...and stuff....that frankly I'm just a bit underwhelmed by it all.

.....plus I've got to get the vacuuming done as soon as I get in as Alberts staying. Again.


*does his finest Rimmer Salute*

Laters you Civvies !