stream running through one of the fields. It’s beautiful. I keep my horses there. Speaking of horses, (I shouldn’t say this should I?) Sue only travels down when she feels the need to see me. I guess she’s still in love with me.
The thought that I might actually kill someone, someone who wasn’t out to kill me, is a little worrisome. I say that because I have had to kill in the past. It’s not a pleasant thing to do. The first time was out on patrol in Northern Ireland. Despite the Good Friday Peace Agreement, we, that is my troop, engaged in a fire fight with the Real IRA. Two of my Marines were wounded and my sergeant, Tommy Burns, escaped with his life only thanks to the skill of an RAF helicopter pilot and a medic on board. We might easily have lost him. I am glad to say that Tommy is now fully recovered and back with the troop and will be coming along to Lashkar Gah. I am so glad; a good sergeant is worth his weight in pure platinum. As for the Real IRA boys, all I can say is, two didn’t make it. It was a fair fight. In Afghanistan, working from a compound, it won’t be. IEDs all over the place and children used as suicide bombers… it’s sickening. I keep reminding myself, only five little months to go, that’s all and then…
Now you might think it logical that, since I am her only living relative, naturally I would expect to be the sole beneficiary of my wife’s will. Not necessarily so. You see, Sue loves animals. Donkeys in particular. Of course I have a copy of her will and I am one of the beneficiaries. You might even consider thirty-five thousand a year for life a seriously generous amount. But as to principal beneficiary, that honour goes to the Polperro Donkey Sanctuary in Cornwall. The amount I receive compared with the donkeys of Polperro is, frankly, peanuts.
I had really great news recently from Sue. (I was on a training exercise abroad). She told me she had been suffering, (I like that word), from acute pains in her chest. I saw my boss and was able to take a week’s leave to take Sue to a leading Chester cardiologist. After a series of scans, including an MRI, it transpired that two of Sue’s main cardiac arteries were blocked. The cardiologist told me quietly that they call the main artery the ‘widow- maker’, or presumably, in the case of women, the widower- maker! I like that. The consultant suggested that Sue have a couple of stents put in and of course she readily agreed. I was keen as well. I mean, operations can go seriously wrong. I had tried to push for a by-pass since I gather that is even more dangerous.
In the event, Sue was only kept in the clinic for two days. Being a private clinic there was obviously no rush to have her leave, after all they were making a shed- load of money (my money). Sue left the clinic looking really awful. I knew she wasn’t feeling too well because she refused the Belgian chocolates I had bought her. For a while I was really worried that she had decided to go on a diet of some sorts. Imagine! No chocolates! But, my luck was in and, two days later, she was hail and hearty, eating greedily from a large box of Cadbury’s Milk Tray.
The really good news that came along that week was that Sue still had chest pains despite the two stents. I immediately suggested a by-pass operation, but the consultant said it was too risky because of her overall physical condition and that it was normal to have a little pain. He gave her a small spray of Glycerine Trinitrate which was to be administered orally when she got chest pains. Thankfully, Sue rejected the spray, saying people would think she had bad breath. The consultant then gave her a prescription for some patches, which she places on her arm each morning to alleviate the angina.
I had a shock when I took Sue back to her house in Chester. She said she was thinking of selling up and moving into the cottage in Devon, to be nearer to me. How romantic, except that I
The thought that I might actually kill someone, someone who wasn’t out to kill me, is a little worrisome. I say that because I have had to kill in the past. It’s not a pleasant thing to do. The first time was out on patrol in Northern Ireland. Despite the Good Friday Peace Agreement, we, that is my troop, engaged in a fire fight with the Real IRA. Two of my Marines were wounded and my sergeant, Tommy Burns, escaped with his life only thanks to the skill of an RAF helicopter pilot and a medic on board. We might easily have lost him. I am glad to say that Tommy is now fully recovered and back with the troop and will be coming along to Lashkar Gah. I am so glad; a good sergeant is worth his weight in pure platinum. As for the Real IRA boys, all I can say is, two didn’t make it. It was a fair fight. In Afghanistan, working from a compound, it won’t be. IEDs all over the place and children used as suicide bombers… it’s sickening. I keep reminding myself, only five little months to go, that’s all and then…
Now you might think it logical that, since I am her only living relative, naturally I would expect to be the sole beneficiary of my wife’s will. Not necessarily so. You see, Sue loves animals. Donkeys in particular. Of course I have a copy of her will and I am one of the beneficiaries. You might even consider thirty-five thousand a year for life a seriously generous amount. But as to principal beneficiary, that honour goes to the Polperro Donkey Sanctuary in Cornwall. The amount I receive compared with the donkeys of Polperro is, frankly, peanuts.
I had really great news recently from Sue. (I was on a training exercise abroad). She told me she had been suffering, (I like that word), from acute pains in her chest. I saw my boss and was able to take a week’s leave to take Sue to a leading Chester cardiologist. After a series of scans, including an MRI, it transpired that two of Sue’s main cardiac arteries were blocked. The cardiologist told me quietly that they call the main artery the ‘widow- maker’, or presumably, in the case of women, the widower- maker! I like that. The consultant suggested that Sue have a couple of stents put in and of course she readily agreed. I was keen as well. I mean, operations can go seriously wrong. I had tried to push for a by-pass since I gather that is even more dangerous.
In the event, Sue was only kept in the clinic for two days. Being a private clinic there was obviously no rush to have her leave, after all they were making a shed- load of money (my money). Sue left the clinic looking really awful. I knew she wasn’t feeling too well because she refused the Belgian chocolates I had bought her. For a while I was really worried that she had decided to go on a diet of some sorts. Imagine! No chocolates! But, my luck was in and, two days later, she was hail and hearty, eating greedily from a large box of Cadbury’s Milk Tray.
The really good news that came along that week was that Sue still had chest pains despite the two stents. I immediately suggested a by-pass operation, but the consultant said it was too risky because of her overall physical condition and that it was normal to have a little pain. He gave her a small spray of Glycerine Trinitrate which was to be administered orally when she got chest pains. Thankfully, Sue rejected the spray, saying people would think she had bad breath. The consultant then gave her a prescription for some patches, which she places on her arm each morning to alleviate the angina.
I had a shock when I took Sue back to her house in Chester. She said she was thinking of selling up and moving into the cottage in Devon, to be nearer to me. How romantic, except that I
Similar Books
