Recalling The Day I Was Shot In The Head

We, that is to say my unit, were in southern Germany on our annual 'Summer Camp'.

Now, when I say 'Summer Camp', please don't make the mistake of thinking that we spent our time sitting around camp fires singing 'Ging-gang-goolie-goolie-goolie-goolie-wotcha', lolling about on the shores of picturesque lakes or visiting and photographing local landmarks. It wasn't that kind of 'Summer Camp'.

It was all geared up to practice and enhance our military skills; a refresher course of sorts.

I recall the day in question as being a hot ... no, make that very hot ... July day. It was 1985.

We left out camp early in the morning and were driven to a spot many miles away (from decent food and toilets) to an area used by the American military for manoeuvres.  On arrival we went tactical. That means that everything were subsequently did was done in a military fashion as it would be if we were on operations on enemy territory. We were also informed that there would be 'enemy' forces on the ground (made up of Americans from local Artillery and infantry units). We were only going to be 'practising' so we fitted blank firing attachments to our weapons and loaded up with blank rounds, rations and water and off we went.

Our 'yomp' took us most of the day, up and down the hills of the Hessen/Bavaria border. It felt as if we had marched for miles but, as we were in a tactical situation, we only travelled about 8 to 9 miles. on the way we were ambushed three times.

Ambush number one saw American Artillerymen firing at us as from the cover of a ditch and some well camouflaged shell scrapes as we rounded a bend on a for once level track.

Although we reacted in the prescribed manner (as per tactic of that time), we were all adjudged to have been killed. We naturally disputed this fact and pointed out to the (American) umpires that someone simply shouting  "BOOM!" does not equate to an artillery piece actually being used and that if they had actually bothered to bring an Artillery piece with them, we would have been more impressed.

The second Ambush came just after we had carried out a first aid task. After setting a few simulated broken arms and legs and plugging up a few fake gunshot wounds, we were told that, once again, we were 'tactical'.
We had barely picked formation to march off when about twenty gung-ho Americans charged from the cover of the near by tree line. Guns-a-blazing!

Once again we were adjudged, by an obviously biased umpire, to be dead.

We were too tired and pissed off to complain.

Ambush number three came after a very clever tactical ruse by an American infantry unit.

They had positioned an ice cream van at a point near a road that we had to cross. Thinking that they wouldn't dream of attacking us on, or near a public highway, we queued up!

RAT-A-TAT-A-TAT-A-TAT-A-TAT-A-TAT

The buggers had lined up two or three machine guns on the other side of the road and let us have it!

We were dead, but at least we had our ice cream.

Later that day, on the slopes of a heavily wooded hill, we set up our camp.  We dug in and settled down to a well earned rest. Tea was appeared, as it always does, and we feasted on cold food from the ration packs that we  carried with us.

Later still, an officer arrived. He told us we were good chaps and had done well, etc., blah, blah, blah.  Then he said that there would be an attack on our position from the valley below before dark and that we should prepare for it.

We prepared!

But when it came, we found out that we where all 'prepared' in the wrong direction!

They came DOWN the hill ... a whoopin' an' a hollerin' ... and we turned in our little holes in the ground.

We fired back, as they over ran out positions, and in some cases over us.

Unfortunately though, not everyone was careful!

The soldier I shared my defensive position with let loose a round from his LMG (Light Machine Gun) right next to my head. The noise was deafening and I felt the sting as all the burned powder gas that would normally follow the bullet out of the muzzle hit me on the side of the face. Blood began to run from my ear as the burst eardrum made itself known and I keeled over, in pain, unable to keep my balance.

The American medics that treated me, to be fair, were very good and very professional. The hardly made fun of me at all,  but then I wouldn't really have know if they had because it was at least four days before I could hear again properly!

But it earned me four weeks light duties and an early ticket home, so I wasn't going to complain.

Ok, so the ear drum has been a slight problem ever since; bursting on at least two more occasions, but at least I'm not deaf!

As you now know, I wasn't really shot in the head. I hope I haven't disappointed anyone!

Shortly after our 'Summer Camp', the following happened ....

Three more vivid reasons to remember that summer.

Preamble

On a beautiful day like today, I should be blogging from the garden, soaking up rays as I type.

But  ... you knew there was going to be a 'but', didn't you? ... my Laptop, being almost as old and decrepit as I am, doesn't have one of those super-doopah screens that stops all that glare and reflection.

So, here I am, sitting in-doors doing the biz when I should be outside toasting.

I am not alone however. At me feet I have three slumbering dogs and at my side a snoring cat.

As luck would have it, The General (Buster Keaton), one of my all time favourite films, is on TV and is causing a welcome distraction, although the classical music chosen to accompany the action is proving rather tedious and is somehow very inappropriate. At this moment (10.45 am), the baddies have just thrown the railway sleepers off the bridge onto poor old Buster (and The General).

That was today's preamble.

And, sad to say, that's all there is to today's post ... preamble!

Feel free to start a discussion amongst yourselves until such time as I return with something more entertaining.

Until then ...

I Deserve It!

For all-round brilliance and general genius-ness 

I hereby award myself the 

Style?

Sunshine brings out the more than a few ladies (gentlemen too) of questionable fashion and style, don't you agree?

We all know that bright, warm weather will entice people to wear ever smaller amounts of material in an attempt to stay, or look, cool and to gain, through the moderate toasting of the skin, a glamorous or sexy appearance.

But in doing so, all sense of style seems to be casually cast aside leaving the wearer to become what I can only describe as Casualties of Wear!

We've all seen those women with the boob-tubes that are too small and tight and show the straps of bras that are sturdy enough to support the Golden Gate Bridge and a roll (or indeed several rolls) of spare anatomy that was quite possibly the result of an over indulgence of hamburger, pizza and beer, hanging over the stretchiest waistband you have ever seen.
Then we have the middle aged, bulbous men that clad themselves in those long shorts and muscle shirts in an attempt to cling to the last vestiges of youth as it slips through their grubby, often nicotine stained fingers.

Today was one of those days! A sunny day! Twenty-six degrees! It was awful out there!

I was dressed, in case you are interested, in light cotton trousers ... very cool around the 'doo-dahs', if you know what I mean ... and a polo shirt.  It was hot, but I stayed cool ... in more ways than one.

If the sun is shining where you are, I do hope that YOU too made the effort to look decent.

I had to get that off my chest ... but in doing so, I've forgotten what I was going to say.

Bum!!!
 

Weeves And Jooster

Jooster climbed off the billiard table and strolled, stretching as he went, into the hallway.

"Dash it, Weeves! Can't a man snatch forty winks without being disturbed by that constant bally racket?" he said to his man servant,Weeves, who was approaching from the direction of the staff quarters.

"Sadly, sir, it would appear to be, as Mr Spud, the wurg wangler had informed me, 'normal behaviour' for the gentry in these parts" answered Weeves.

"What?" exclaimed Jooster. "But there were people screaming! I heard an ambulance earlier on and I thought I heard shots fired! And someone was bouncing around on a bed upstairs like a child on a trampoline! Normal?"

"Indeed, sir. The country gentry do have their 'little foibles', sir".

"Foibles, ay Weeves?. What would they be exactly?" asked Jooster.

"Well, sir, I gather from Mrs Purgatory, the cook, that young Edward, the boot boy, was once again discovered in the room of Miss Hipple, the housekeeper. She caught him wearing a pair of her bloomers, sir!"

"That would be the screaming in theWest Wing, I take it?"

"Very astute, sir".

"So the screams would be of the boy, Edward, being punished, would it?"

"Oh, no sir! Miss Hipple does indeed have a penchant for the slapping of unruly bottoms, but I fear on this occasion, it is was young Edward doing the slapping and Miss Hipple, the screaming"

"By jove, Weeves!"

"Quite, sir. A most unusual form of punishment, I agree, but very satisfying ... erm, so I've been led to believe,sir".

"And the ambulance, Weeves?  said Jooster.

"Old Mr Bracegirdle, the gardener, sir. An accident in the rose garden".

"And the shots?"

"Old Mr Bracegirdle again I fear, sir.  His Lordship recently purchased a new shotgun and he was keen to try it out, sir, hence the accident in the garden and the ambulance".

"I say! He shot the gardener?"

"Not at first, sir. He didn't actually score a hit until Mr Bracegirdle became ensnared in the Noisette."

"The what?"

"Roses, sir!"

"And what, by heavens, was all that racket in the room above the billiard room? The bouncing and shouting?"

"That, sir, would have been James, the footman, and Charlotte, the chambermaid, in Lady Agatha's bedroom. I believe, to use the common vernacular, James was, in fact, 'giving her one', sir!"

"One what?"

Weeves made a gesture.

"Oh! I say! Lady Agatha will blow a bally gasket!"

"She may well indeed, sir, but I fear that will only be the case should she run out of film".

"Film, Weeves?"

"Yes, sir. Lady Agatha is at this very moment indulging in her favourite pastime".

"Which is?"

"Home movies, sir".

"You mean ..."

"In her bedroom, sir, yes".

"Damn it, Weeves!"

"Sir?"

"These country folk are too strange for my liking! Car, Weeves! We're going back to London!"

"I have already taken the liberty of packing your Inflatable Ingrid and gels, sir!"

"Good man, Weeves! What would I do without you!"

"One shudders to think,sir. One positively shudders, sir!"

A Reminder Of Blog Rules

(one of my earliest posts: When you can't stay on the internet for more than a few minutes, copy & paste is a God send!)


Whilst typing my little journal entries I endeavour, having taken on board recommendations of a colleague, to maintain a simplistic form of sentencing, thus avoiding overly long statements riddled with intricate and complex, mind melting dribble which mere mortals would struggle to comprehend.

Hippopotomonstrosesquipedalianism is also something I will avoid and, where possible, diminutive alternatives to some words will be employed.

Also, when generalizing, I will refrain from further generalisation of the generalized thread as, generally speaking, things generally get complicated.

Furthermore, I promise to proof read all my articles so as not to omit or leave any sentence unfini

And if I have been guilty of the occasional use of one word sentences, then I promise these will also disappear.  


Forever! 


Always!

The Final Straw

You may have noticed that I haven't been around much lately.

That, dear friends, is because my internet connection is still playing silly buggers.

At this very moment ... indeed as I type ... my internet connection has gone 'walk about'.

If all goes well, in about two minutes it will be back and I will be able to post this.

I make no bones about laying the blame firmly with SKY, of whom I will shortly be an EX customer.

Their TV and Movie package is no better than that provided via Free View and their prices, for what you actually get, are extortionate. BT Vision, for a similar package, works out to be far cheaper.

So, I will be changing provider ... maybe not BT ... but I will be shopping around looking for the best deal.

My posts may be sporadic for a while, but I will be back.

Stop groaning! You know you like me really!

  

10 Things ...

... that piss me off:

1. Actors (film folk) having all those award ceremonies, and patting themselves on the back all the time!

2. Musicians (music folks) having all those award ceremonies, and patting themselves on the back all the time!

3. Car manufacturers claiming that THEIR model is the CAR OF THE YEAR 2012 as long ago as March!

4. Supermarkets that claim their store was voted SHOP OF THE YEAR, but you never find out by whom!

5. People who are NEVER prepared to listen to, or accept, an alternative opinion!

6. TV shows and Films that get described as CULT in order to justify the screening of utter crap!

7. Sex and violence on TV .... it's never on when I'm watching!!!

8. Inconsiderate drivers!

9. Inconsiderate dog owners!

10. The World in general ... at the moment!

There are many, many more but I only have ten fingers (my shoe laces have been tied too tight, so I can't use my toes  until mummy comes home).

Ton Up

100 (more really) funnies on Symdaddy Humour

Sym

My boy Sym's cancer has returned!

Humour In Chocolate

Secret Monologues!

I suppose, now that I sit down to share another of my secrets with you, that everyone does it.

And it's not the same as talking to yourself, is it?

Maybe you have found yourself doing it too!

I refer, of course, to the silent monologues that we carry out in the privacy of our own heads whilst conversing with another.

I seem to do it all the time and it's becoming a constant worry to my sanity, which is always on watch for any signs of diminished capacity .... well, at least of any increased signs.

"Don't say that out loud" says my sanity. "Shhhh"!

No, the silent monologues are a worry to me.

But, so far, I haven't allowed them to become actual conversations with myself, have I?

No!

I don't openly discuss anything with anyone but those that stand before me, do I?

Of course you don't!

No!

The monologues go something like this;

Me:      "Hello! How are you today?"
            Look at that zit on his nose! That thing's gonna go pop any second. 

Them:   "Hi, I'm fine! How are you?"

Me:      "I'm cool"
            or at least I would be if that zit wasn't so close. 
            I don't wanna get covered in puss when it blows!

Them:   "Well, I hope you a nice day".  

Me:      No you don't! "Yeah, you too!" like I really care.

Ok, so maybe that wasn't the best example, but that is, more or less, how they go.

Hmmmmm!

Perhaps I shouldn't have told you.

Don't you look at me like that!

Like what?

Stop it!

Me? What'd I do?

Boys! Don't argue!

Confession Of A Overrated Blogger!

I have to be honest and say

that I get my best blog idea's

whilst grunting my way through

sweat inducing, no farts barred,

bowel movements ...

... I haven't had a crap for three years!

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaargh!

I leapt into my cool 'lets get down to blogging' slippers, flung myself onto the sofa ... narrowly avoiding a rather bemused pussy cat ... and flipped open the lid of my laptop, or Lappy, as I like to call her.

She obligingly Window-chimed into life and I directed my mouse cursor towards the Chrome icon and clicked.

Chrome opened.

I clicked open, or at least I attempted to click open, my blog!

'Wey  man, lass!' I said in my best Geordie accent. 'Wots aal this hinney?'

I was confronted with a window that declared in rather large letters that my Sky internet connection was unavailable ... AGAIN!

I was advised to try again in a few minutes.

That was at 8pm!

It'snow 11.30pm!

Could it be that Sky operates in a different reality that ticks along at a rather slower pace than mine?

Nope!  I think they are just pissing me about!

I am seriously going to have to find another provider, as Sky is really getting to be a pain!

Anyhow,  it's bed time for  this old man, so please don't go away!

I WILL sort this out!

I Make It All Up As I Go, You Know!

The tall, yet portly figure of Mr Pontebellis walked slowly down the dimly lit staircase.
"It would appear, Mr Slim, that our quarry has evaded us. There is no one upstairs", he said as his and vastly larger waisted partner, Mr Slim exited the living room.
"Most unfortunate, Mr Pontebellis. Most unfortunate indeed" said Slim. "One must assume, must one not, that  Mr Quirk was tipped off as to our proximity and he, to use commoner-speak, did a runner".
"That would certainly appear to be true, but I feel confident that we shall meet Mr Quirk very soon" said Pontebellis as he rounded the bannister at the foot of the stairs.
"Our client may not approve of this development, Mr Pontebellis. We did, as I recall, assure him that we would  expedite matters before paragraph five".
"Rest assured Mr Slim, we shall no doubt make Mr Quirk's acquaintance before the end of the third paragraph" answered Pontebellis as he looked up. Something went 'Zinggggg' and a large knife appeared in Pontebellis's hand. "Is that not so, Mr Author"?
I'll see what can be done
"You are most kind. Come, Mr Slim, we shall await Mr Quirk in the third paragraph".

~~~~~~~~

Quirk ran down Sickle Rd. and turned left into paragraph two.
"Who are those two and what do they want from me?" he asked to the air.
Well, said the Author, it's like this ... it's something to do with an amount of money which you borrowed. They probably want it back. Therefore, as  you haven't got it, you have to run away.
"I don't recall borrowing money from anyone" said a panting Quirk. "Why would I do that?"
A very good question, to which I have no satisfactory answer, because I'm writing this on the fly.
"But you're the author! You must know!"
Sorry! As I said, I'm just making this up as I go!
"What'll they do to me if they catch me?"
Honestly, I haven't thought that far ahead yet.
Quirk ran on, evading the last few sentences and rounded another corner into paragraph three.

~~~~~~~~

"Mr Pontebellis, I do declare, you are a genius! Here comes our quarry! Right on tome to enter the paragraph" said Mr Slim.
"Why, thank you, Mr Slim. Let us make ready to welcome our new friend".
"My knives are already so sharp as to be able to cut fog, Mr Pontebellis".
"Ah, I fear there will be no cutting in this, or any other paragraph, Mr Slim. Children may be reading. However, if you so wish, you may, as it were, insinuate the possibility of violence with knives by using them to excavate dirt from beneath your fingernails".
"I shall insinuate for all I am worth, Mr Pontebellis.You can rely on me".
"I am aware of that fact Mr Slim, and I am genuinely grateful".
Quirk stopped directly ahead of Mr Pontebellis and Mr Slim.
"I don't care what you do to me" he cried. "I can't repay the money! I don't have it, so do your worst" he cried.
"My, my! I do rather think that you are quite possibly taking this a little too seriously, Mr Quirk. We are educated ..."
"Educated!" said Mr Slim.
"... and sophisticated ..."
"Sophisticated!" added Slim.
"... gentlemen ... repeat me at your peril, Mr Slim! ... and we are certainly not monsters, although my friend and I do, on rare occasions, indulge in the physical alteration of those who upset us n some way, we are not intrinsically violent people".
Quirk fell to his knees as Pontebellis and Slim approached.
"Make it quick ... and preferably painless" he sobbed.
"We are processionals, you know" said Slim.
"We are indeed, Mr Slim. We are indeed".
Quirk closed his eyes. "Do it!"
"Certainly", said Mr Pontebellis. "Here!"
"What?" said Quirk opening his eyes.
Pontebellis handed Quirk an envelope.
"What's this?"
"Why, it's the money! The money you borrowed from Mr Crawly at the bank. You left it on his desk by mistake".
Mr Pontebellis looked out of the paragraph and off the page.
"Not what you were expecting, hmmm?" he said the readers. "Come along, Mr Slim. Our work here is done".

The Nail In Chelsea's Coffin

Beans For Dinner

Blarrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrt!

A deathly silence fell upon the room like a thick, woolly blanket.

A smirk, always dancing on the edge of a full-blown smile, crept across Joanne's face as she hugged the sofa cushion just a little tighter.

Geoffrey's wine glass paused on it's way towards his lips as he suddenly found the curtains of great interest..

Sidney looked at a painting on the wall and shuffled his backside slightly sideways in his armchair. He made a low grunting noise which, I think was intended as a 'harrumph' of disapproval!

An odour, which hinted at the presence of an as yet undiscovered corpse in the room, filled the air.

Eyes watered.

Marjorie returned at this moment from the kitchen carrying a tray laden with cheese and cracker.

She came to an immediate halt. "Oh, my goodness!"

Tinsel, the cat, rose from her sleeping place by the hearth, sniffed the air, then with a flick of her tail, strutted from the room. She cast us a look that quite clearly said "You lot are worse than dogs"!

I swilled my brandy around the glass and watched as a few bubbles spun like small, hyperactive goldfish.

"I think," said Marjorie as soon as her cerebral functions had been restored.

"I think, with hindsight, that serving baked beans for dinner was possibly a mistake".

I looked up.

"but I love baked beans" I said.

"A-ha!" said Joanne, Geoffrey and Sidney in unison as they all made a move to follow Tinsel.

"I'm only human!" I said, but the damage had already been done.

Strangely, I have never been invited to Marjorie's house for dinner again.


  

Good A Laugh

I've just added Blogger's Translator tool to my page layout.

Then I spent half an hour reading some of my old posts in German!

Laugh?

I thought my trousers would never dry!

Normal Service

Maybe they didn't lie after all! 

Bad things DO come in three's!

My network cable [connecting my wireless router to the outside world] was dodgy!

(looked ever so slightly chewed)

My 'dongle' [laptop] was not sitting in the USB port securely!
(loose screw inside laptop allowed port to wobble)

BT were working on the line!

(Switching things on and off all day)

Apart from all that ... it was a good day yesterday.

Disappearing Internet!

Busy playing the 

Vanishing Internet Connection

Game!

Bummer!

Three Things ...

... that I hate about TV ads!

1.   Models in ads with their mouths open and displaying teeth like tombstones

2.   Models in ads with their mouths open and displaying teeth like tombstones with a huge gap in the middle

3.   Models in ads with their mouths open and displaying teeth like tombstones with a huge gap in the middle and eyes like dinner plates

4.   Models in ads with their mouths open and displaying teeth like tombstones with a huge gap in the middle and eyes like dinner plates and a gormless expression on their faces

Yes, I know that was four, but I really could go on forever with this subject!