Some things just don't change

That can be both a good thing and a bad thing. Part 1 is the good thing.

This post was delayed a bit as I was up in Derbyshire (not Nottingham) meeting up with a couple of friends. The plan was that the post was illustrated with pictures, which I thought would 'enhance' the experience. However, I went into mong mode and left my camera at home. But, both Barry and James had cameras and promised to email me pictures.

So, four days later, still no pictures. I suppose that James might have a bit of an excuse as he flew back to New Zealand on Tuesday.

I met James and Barry in 2003. I was supposed to be going to a warm sandy place at the time, but for various reasons, I didn't and found myself stationed in a barracks on the outskirts of Nottingham. Both of them were already there.

On my first evening I went for a drink in the mess, where these two were already. It’s strange to think that at that point James was a tee-total vegetarian, and was sat with his glass of squash. Barry was Duty Officer and therefore not supposed to be drinking, so had arranged with James that if the Adjutant appeared, they would just swap drinks. The Adj wasn't fooled for a minute.

And by the time James and I did go to that warm sandy place, all pretence at being a hippy was gone and James was well and truly a burger eating scotch drinker!

But, in the five months that we were in the barracks, we spent the majority of our time with aching ribs because we laughed so much, and I think that both James and myself were quite sad to leave in the November.

In the five years since then, James and I had visited Barry (who was still stationed there) on several occasions and our visits always culminated in copious amounts of alcohol being consumed and thousands of 'rounds' of air rifle ammunition being fired. However, that all changed in 2006 when James married his Fairy Sparkle and they emigrated to New Zealand. In fact, we weren't expecting to see James for a while, but he and Carol became parents, and the Grandparents insisted that they visit (Check out the Farmers Palmer in my blog list).

Then, in June of this year Barry's contract finished and he moved into a house in Derbyshire and this was the first visit that we'd all had.

The first thing to say was that, having looked at some of the old photos, it was obvious that all three of us were much lardier, one of our number has a lot less hair and another's was far more 'bouffant'. And of course James and I didn't laugh at all when we found out that Barry had his own hairdryer to maintain the 'bouffancy'.

Other than that, it was still pretty much the same. Lots of alcohol, a great barbecue and the air rifles/ pistols were broken out and anything became fair game, including a gnome that had survived five years on the roof outside Barry's room at the barracks. I think that the neighbour left at the end of the evening somewhat bemused.

Sadly, I too had to leave early the following morning, complete with my aching ribs, to head back to Kent in time for my kids to be dropped off by their mother. Now we come to Some things just don't change (Part 2)

I made it (just) only to discover that they were running slightly late, but that was not a problem. What was a problem was that I had planned to take the kids on a series of day trips whilst they were staying with me, including some to Europe. However, my ex-wife has always decided to be as awkward as possible, and despite the fact that we are divorced, continues to try and run (or should that be ruin) my life.

There had been much discussion about my taking the kids abroad. She was demanding that she had all the details of time, place etc. This is because two years ago, she absconded with two of the kids and had to be tracked down by Police and Social Services. As a result of this, she is convinced that everyone is as psychologically unstable as her and will do the same. But, because I wanted to talk to the kids first to find out where they wanted to go, I was unable to tell her. So the kids arrived without passports but with instructions that I would have to jump through all sorts of hoops to get them. I can no longer be bothered to play her rather pathetic and childish games, but unfortunately that means that the kids will miss out. She meanwhile, is unhappy that it is down to her that the kids can't go abroad, and seems to be insinuating that I tell them it is down to me. Truly deluded, but nothing that a long spell of ECT wouldn't cure.

So that's the good and the bad (and the ugly?). In the meantime, myself and the kids will carry on as normal, and they can enjoy the break.