It's 'Harry-pelters' out there, snow and floods threatening, a 4-hour journey through the spray thrown by the lorries, an incomprehensible road junction outside Bristol at which the skeletons of long-lost drivers sit crumpled in the driving seats of their rusting hulks having given up the ghost trying to find a way out, and nothing to eat except the culinary delights offered by sundry Motorway service stations. And I volunteered for this!
I had forgotten the soldier's first lesson which I learnt the hard way on my second day in the army. The sergeant crashed into our barrack-room and demanded to know if anyone had ever had a music lesson. Like a mug, I, and a couple of others, put our hands up. "Right", he bellowed, "You, you and you, go and shift the piano from the Corporals' mess to the Sergeants' mess!" See, never, ever, volunteer!
Back on Sunday night.
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