I was telling the Old Boyfriend I made contact with the other day about my previous relationships and had to admit to the 'lure' of a man in Uniform. All of the guys I have had serious relationships with have been in the Forces. I was thinking about it today and have decided that half of my problem....IE; unhealthy obsession with Brass Buttons and Brave Boys, is my survival instinct kicking in.
It harks back to the Donut Child in me. I was a child of the nuclear age and by about the age of 10 I was able to realise the awesome power of nuclear weapons, grasp a little of what the cold war was about and have nightmares about the whole damn scenario. If the TV suddenly went white and hissed, I was absolutely certain that the bomb was imminent and we should all proceed directly to the bathroom and push mattresses up against the window. My mind would tick over at night, thinking about how I could organize my impossibly scatty mother into buying compo packs and filling the bath with water every night. God only knows where I got these ideas, I don't remember. If the TV had gone off and dad was at work, I would stand by the window, anxiously waiting for him to come home, willing him not to be late because that would almost reduce me to tears and if dad was home then everything would be okay.
Dad was my Superhero when I was little, which is how it should be. During the 70's we had endured the power cuts that caused misery for many families. I had four younger brothers and sisters and Dad was bloody marvellous. We were languishing in Trenchard Road, Digby, doing penance between jaunts to the sun. The house was coal fired and we relied on Paraffin heaters for back up (ewww...do you remember the smell of those). Every house in the street had no lights, we did.. compliments of large battery. No one had radio, we... did. Dad wired the whole house up to his seemingly endless supply of batteries. We had hot food, cups of tea, courtesy of a single element and he even cooked the Sunday roast on the Paraffin heaters!! I was suddenly the most popular girl at school.
As you can see, no ordinary bloke would do me. None of these civilians thank you very much! Can you build a fire/sharpen a knife/survive on small furry things/catch fish etc.... Those were my basic requirements! I was going to stick to what I knew best. What I did not realise at the time was the equation, Uniform + Male = Superhero did not actually exist! I had a great life married to the Army and then the RAF (not quite as much fun as a Donut Child) but I don't regret it.
I am still the same today. My kitchen cupboards are stuffed full of lots of unnecessary things such as the entire range of Heinz foods, everything you can think of in dried form, tons of rice and pasta and I am still struggling with the amount of water needed to keep me and mine alive until rescue. I am an avid viewer of Ray Mears and any disaster film you care to name, all in the spirit of research you understand!
The difference today is, it probably won't be the Bomb that gets us in the end but a nasty little flu virus that we cannot do much about. As usual my busy brain needs a rest and I will sign off leaving you with that cheery thought!
Namaste
Muse x
How evocative - your description of the winter of discontent. I was a student: I can remember sitting my MY Dad, reading Oscar Wilde's "The Remarkable Rocket" by candlelight by a coal fire on blackout nights.
ReplyDeleteAnd the store cupboard ! Dry goods for us - we'll survive the Crisis (whatever it looks like) with lentils and pasta. The camper van is always equipped (there are even compo rations under one of the bunks, as well as room for six bottles of red in a little gap. Water isn't QUITE enough).
And more gloomily my instinct is still to start the car with the door open - if someone nasty has put a lunchbox full of PE4 under the car, I might be thrown clear and a little less broken. PIRA provided the Bomb that did turn up to spoil the duty free party that was BAOR. Although listening to an ex-RUC lady the other day, I was impressed with the precautions she took before putting her children into the car for the school run. Search the car, of course, but also drive out, up a hill, down a hill, and only then go back and pick up the children.
AND you're quoting Camus. This is a great blog.
I did that too Charly, as an Army wife...put key in, take deep breath and turn! Scary but true. Thank you for your memories x
ReplyDelete