This shit's loose!

Went to Zibbo's 21st party last night, although I wasn't initially in the mood because of going to the presentation night the prior evening. I did get into the swing of things though, and it was pretty good. There was a jumping castle!! Rosie and I were climbing up the walls of it to sit at the top and now my arms hurt. Well, arm - singular.

The party was full of Kenny's friends, all soldiers. Largely cool guys. I spent some time talking to a couple of them - one a Corporal and the other a Private. Unfortunately the Corporal had had a smidgen too much to drink, but he was alright. The Private, Lloyd I think his name was, had just enough to drink to be talkative and sociable. We talked about their time in Afghanistan (or "The Ghan", as they say) and how there was a period of 80 consecutive days where they did nothing but walk through sand and carry heavy shit. Eighty days. Get fucked. The poor fucker wants to get out, though, even though he's only been in the Army for about four years; he said that it was more the idea of the Army and the military that he loved, rather than the service itself because of all the bullshit, the pressure, not being able to do the things they felt they ought to be doing ("we passed those Taliban motherfuckers everyday, walked right past them, and we weren't allowed to do anything about them. We just had to keep walking"). We spoke about how civvies feel about them (the guys/girls in the forces) and it became quite clear that amongst civilians soldiers, at least, aren't well liked.

I think that before people cast aspertions, they should take a careful look at what these people - not just soldiers, but sailors and airmen - do for us and the things they have to deal with. Being away for months at a time away from family, friends and favourite things. Having to lift, lug, carry, tote things - often heavy things - over long distances. Having to deal with the issues - both personal and moral - that come with possibly taking the life of another person in combat. And let's not forget the fear that they might not come home again.

They all do a great job and I, personally, am proud to call a number of military personnel my friends. I am proud of them and the work that they do. I feel safer knowing that people I trust do the jobs that they do...

All of that aside, my arm still hurts. I haven't had dinner yet. I have to go to work tomorrow and I really don't want to. I have more working out to do. Didn't get to the pools this weekend - maybe next week. I'm tired. And bored.

And going. xoxo