The Freedom Years

"Its not like there's a war going on" Thats what my Mum said when I announced I wanted to join the Navy. The fact that I wasn't likely to get killed, sealed their approval and signature on the form from the RN Careers Office. However, less than a year later, ten months to be precise, we went to war with the 'Argies' in the South Atlantic all because of a small cluster of Islands called The Falklands. The months that followed the announcement on 2nd April 1982 are some of the most vivid memories of my life. Events and emotions, deeply engraved in my heart, never to be forgotten. I apologise now if my account isn't 100% accurate, but it was 30 years ago and my memory isn't what it was, but please feel free to correct me. I also want to point out that this is simply an account of my life at that time and not a political agenda, so please no comments on sovereignty or other political opinions. Thanks. I was based at RNAS Culdrose at the time,  working on...

Recent experience of hospitals with my Dad and son, reminded me of Naval medical services. Not people to encourage you to be off work, you often tended to 'get on with it' rather than put yourself through the shame of visiting sick bay. Put it this way, sympathy wasn't a quality listed on the MA's job description. The process started with the MA. and usually went like this... MA - "what's up with you then?" Me - "Ive got flu/stomach pain/arm hanging off" MA - "OK, take these paracetamol" Paracetamol was the cure all, and was what kept the Navy running smoothly. Of course MA's didn't do home visits, so regardless of your condition you had to get there. Hubby once cycled, sweating profusely the few miles from Weymouth to Portland with what was later diagnosed as Gastroenteritis. I rarely used the medical services, but on one occasion had no choice and even had a very short ride in a Pussers Nee-Nar. I was in training at HMS Daeda...

Today one of my Twitter followers, who just happens to live next to what was HMS Daedalus sent me a link to this blog post. I seems that all the years I spent there I was risking my life for my Queen and country - really! So there were twenty tubes of explosives buried under the runway?  Had I known that, I wouldn't have driven along there looking for foxes while on night shift, or practiced driving on ice covered tarmac. There would have been a bit of a mess had they gone up! A little disturbing that 'someone' forgot to mention it or write it down during WW2 so that they could be safely removed when no longer required...... ...watch your step!

If nothing else, being in the RN made me an excellent laundress. Mum had prepared me as well as she could by getting me to polish my school shoes and do a bit of ironing when forced to, but that was nothing compared to what was required for naval kit. The photo above is of one of my kit musters.  These were done frequently during training and occasionally (purely as an inconvenience) when not.  A kit muster involved washing, ironing and folding all items you were supposed to have into a 'book sized' rectangle.  This was supposedly the exact size of a ships locker, and meant kit was kept clean and neat in a confined space.  All well and good in a ship's mess, but not really necessary as a Wren with no chance whatsoever of going to sea.  However... Before my bunk had been warmed, I was up to my elbows in soap suds and shoe polish.  The very first night was spent washing and ironing shirts and collars - they were not attached! followed by sitting with a fluffy...