I Support Armed Forces Day

British Armed Forces Day is on Saturday.  Not everyone is in favour of it.

The first memorial to the 55,573 airmen killed during Second World War bombing raids opened in Britain today.  I think it is wrong that it took sixty-seven years to honour their sacrifice.

The issue is contentious because of the numbers who died at the hands of Bomber Command, when we were fighting for our survival.  There are no easy answers; I know that.

I do not agree with everything we have been to war about, but I wholeheartedly support our troops and the difficult job they do.  I was therefore disgusted to read that two military personnel were refused service in Coventry because they were in uniform.  They were in uniform because they were on a break between the rehearsal and funeral of a colleague and brother.

My elder brother was in the British Army for twenty-two years.  I am proud of him.  My friend’s son is in the Army; he has done one tour so far of Afghanistan.  He brought home the bullet that had his name on it – it hit the tank he had been leaning against, just as he happened to bend down.

He is in Kenya at the moment, training.  For those who have nothing good to say about our squaddies, I’ll quote from his mother’s email to me:

One of his highlights he said was they went to an orphanage where they’ve had a broken tractor for several years so the children have been ploughing the field. It took them a day and a half to fix the tractor and another day and a half ploughing the field.

Talking of his bending down, when he went off to join the Army, his massive extended family went to the station to wave him off.  Many of them were crying; so, from the train, he pulled down his pants and mooned them.

And they gave this boy a gun! 

I think we’re in good hands.

Tilly’s Blog Jubilee: Day One

This is one of my earliest posts.  I love it because it’s daft but true – the Hub and I really did have this conversation.

And let’s be honest – if the Hub could manage a four-year break from my cooking, he’d take it.

Be warned: plot spoilers in this post.  But seriously – if you need a plot spoiler alert for this film, where have you been for the last twelve years?  On a desert island?

Cover of Cast Away (Widescreen Edition)

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I Blame Tom Hanks for My Bad Cooking

He got me into so much trouble once. I accused a friend of being a Romantic – Not A Good Thing – because she thought it was tragic that Helen Hunt was married when Tom Hanks came back in Cast Away, and she asked how could Helen not go to him?  I – ever the pragmatist – said that it was her duty to stay with the settled-for man, although I agreed it was tragic.

Being Romantic gives you carte blanche to say and do what you like and get away with it.  Whereas we Pragmatics have to cover our backs. Consider me a Pragmatic who ought to think things through: the Hub demanded to know why I won’t be returning to him after his heroic self-rescue from four years being castaway on a desert island. I was cooking a roast dinner at the time so only one part of my brain was functioning and I was left floundering in a sea of potato peelings. Between the roast potatoes and the mashed potatoes I recovered enough to bluster that Helen Hunt was married with a baby, to which he replied, ‘So are you!’  There was no answer to that, so it looks like I’m going back to the Hub.

Between the mashed potatoes and the sprouts it occurred to me that Helen Hunt is a floozy – a mere four years from misplacing the love of her life, she managed to get over him, meet a dentist, get married, and have a baby…. Hardly pining for poor old Tom, was she? 

I know dentists are highly prized commodities in American culture (look at all those dazzling teeth; and middle class female characters in American films are always either married to, about to be married to, or have been married to and recently divorced from, dentists) but she must have worked pretty fast, even for a typical middle class character in an American movie.

I was therefore able to reassure the Hub that I wouldn’t stay with our dentist because the Hub is the father of my children and, of course, the love of my life. Unless our dentist is very rich, of course.

I didn’t dare mention having other children by other dentists because that would have sent the Hub into a jealous frenzy and as dinner was almost ready I didn’t want to give him indigestion.

By the cauliflower & sprouts I was convinced I had brushed through the whole incident with my marriage shaky but intact, and the Hub gave me a reassuring CENSORED (my children read this; I don’t want them knowing their parents kiss each other) to confirm that that was so.

He says I have too much time on my hands because I don’t do enough cooking; but I’m just practicing for when he’s castaway for four years.

Joke 462

 

English: Bunch of tulip cultivars, by a florist, in Paris Français : Bouquet de tulipes horticoles, chez un fleuriste à Paris (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

From ajokeaday.com

A shop had moved to bigger premises, and one of the owner’s friends sent flowers for the occasion; but when the owner read the card with the flowers, it said, “Rest in Peace.”

The owner was rather upset and called the florist to complain.  After he had told the florist about the mistake, the florist said, “Sir, I’m really sorry but, rather than getting angry, you should imagine this: somewhere there is a funeral taking place today, and they have flowers with a note saying, “Congratulations on your new location.”