All growed up!

If you look at the 'Blogs I Read' section to the right, you will notice that there is a new one, 'Alec's year in Guyana'. Yup, he's gone. My eldest son is now, and will be for the next year, about 4,500 miles away, having flown out last Friday. This will not only be the furthest apart that we've been (Iraq was only about 2800) since he was born, but also the longest time. However, I'm sure it will go very quickly. The last three weeks has.

The house now seems very empty as both Drew and Maggie have returned to their mother's after spending three weeks here. However, they did have to earn their keep, as, although I was on annual leave, I did have to go into work on two of the days due to August being the month that all of the new doctors start, and they all needed to be trained. This was where Drew and Maggie came in, as they were able to demonstrate cardiopulmonary resuscitation and using the defibrillators in AED mode, and are probably far better at it than most of the new doctors!

The remainder of the holidays was a fairly relaxed affair, with just some day trips here and there, including Walmer and Dover and a day in Eastbourne at Eastbourne Airborne, which is not only the world's biggest seafront airshow, but is also free. Much to m'Julie's amazement, it is also the first time that I'd seen the Red Arrows 'live'.

Going back to before the kids arrived, the Garden Party went well. I was relieved that I did manage to fit into my service dress, and the weather wasn't too warm, so I wasn't too uncomfortable. m'Julie and I were on the Deputy Mayor's table, the lady who will be the Mayor next year. Maidstone does things slightly differently in that, rather that have an election for the Mayor every year or two, the most senior councillor is the Mayor for a year and the next most senior takes over from them, having been the Deputy Mayor for a year.

Having said all that, following the cakes, scones and strawberries and cream, the Sam Browne that I was wearing not only started to get tighter, but also became very uncomfortable.

Caroline's visit was not as long as I'd hoped, as her son-in-law was concerned about her travelling on her own due to the problems that she has with her legs, so he told her that he would drive her down and take her back on the same day. Unfortunately, that meant that we only had limited time with Caroline, and we met her at the Wings Museum in Surrey. The museum is not officially open yet, and although we were able to walk around and take pictures, we were requested not to put any of the pictures on the net, even the ones of me in the cockpit of the C-47 that was used in Band of Brothers.

The reason that we met here was that not far from where Caroline lives in Texas is the site of the WW2 British Flight Training School, which was where many RAF pilots trained at the outset of the Second World War. Caroline is very active in preserving this site and is keen to be affiliated to similar sites in the UK.

Lastly, the weekend prior to the children arriving was a range weekend. Due to the qualifications of one of the Sqn officers, we were all able to enjoy not only the usual fixed firing point shoots, but also the close quarter battle shoots, including the street, where there is one person on each side of a 'street', firing at targets that pop-up at the end. Judging by the comments, a great time was had by all. Unfortunately, the OC has left, and he was the only one in the Sqn who was qualified to conduct that range.

Now it’s just myself, m'Julie and Hannah in the house, although I'm away on camp for two weeks soon, so need to make sure that I have everything ready for that.

Pain!

I've experienced two distinct types of pain during the last couple of weeks. The first is the pain from the abscess, which resulted in a trip back to the dentist before my original appointment, including more antibiotics in addition to the ones I was taking, and the second was the cost of having the treatment done. And it’s still not completed. I have to go back at the end of this month to finish the treatment!

The advantage of all of this is that, due to having a temporary filling and then just cotton wool in the hole, eating was difficult and I have lost weight. I am now in the situation where the service dress jacket that I will be wearing at the garden party next week can now been done up, which, just three weeks ago was an impossibility.

However, whilst I was able to do up all of the buttons the last time that I tried it on, there was a distinct possibility that if I had coughed, sneezed or even taken a deep breath, then the buttons would have flown across the room. This also meant that when I did the OC bit of going and seeing one of the soldiers from the Squadron pass out at Pirbright, I had to go in a suit, rather than uniform.

At least I can still fit in my 'Combat 95' uniform, which is just as well really, as the second of the primary health care weekends has now taken place. The guys that attended seemed to enjoy it and I hope that they got something out of it. The remainder of these exercises will be run by someone else because of my promotion to 2ic, and, possibly, by the time that they're taking place I may be in the post of OC, which I have applied for this month.

The day that I was in Pirbright was also the day that No.1 son returned from travels of his own. As I have previously mentioned, he is off to Guyana to teach with a group called Project Trust. It did, for a while, look as if he wouldn't be going, as he had not raised as much in sponsorship as he needed. Consequently, he hadn't gone to Scotland for the meeting.

The day after he was due to go, not only did I receive a telephone call from his mother, but she actually spoke to me, demanding to know why he wasn't in Scotland as Project Trust had called her. It appeared that they hadn't received Alec's email. What was more surprising was the fact that she actually met up with Alec, put her hand in her pocket and paid for his journey to the Isle of Coll! No doubt he will end up paying for that in the future!

As a result of this, he is now definitely going to Guyana and leaves at the end of August. It works out quite nicely, as his brother and sister are with me for the summer holidays when he goes, so will be able to come to the airport to see him off.

Other changes are that Maggie, my youngest, leaves her primary school tomorrow and heads off to secondary school in September. When m'Julie, Hannah and I went to the school last evening to see Maggie playing the part of the adult Nala in the school's version of the Lion King, it was strange to think that that would be the last time that I visited that school.

The play was very good and Maggie seemed to thoroughly enjoy herself. She is also looking forward to the challenges that await her in 'big school', though I am sure that some of these will be eased by the fact that her older brother is already there.

Whilst the kids are with me and prior to Alec's departure, we are being visited by Caroline, mother of my friend Norman who was killed in January. Bizarrely, I was watching an episode of The First 48 when Caroline phoned, which must have been recorded last year, as when I hung up and went back to watching, there was Norman at a crime scene.

So it will be a busy couple of weeks with kids staying, when Drew gets back from Amsterdam, Alec working as much as possible to raise funds for Guyana, Caroline visiting and the garden party, which I've just realised will cost me for m'Julie's dress. I wonder if I can get some overtime.

Redacted!

Incredible. A word that, to my knowledge, has been little used apart from in the Brian de Palma film of the same name is now appearing more and more frequently.

The reason? The thieving scum that inhabit the Houses of Parliament and jokingly pass themselves off as a Government have finally released their expenses. However, it looks as if my speculation that these expense claims were to be sanitised prior to publication was correct, as large amounts of the information is blacked out. But, rather than use the word 'censored', which in effect is what it is, all the trough dwellers are using the word 'redacted'. I strongly suspect that this is because politicians have so little respect for the people that they are supposed to represent that they believe that most people will not realise that when they say redacted they do actually mean censored.

The argument that has been put forward for this censorship is that without it there would be a risk to the personal security of the MPs. Perhaps personal addresses, telephone numbers and email addresses should not be made public due to security issues, but this also gives the thieving scum the opportunity to 'flip' their first and second homes on a regular basis and claim expenses for doing so (people like Blears, for example). However, there is much else that has been hidden on these grounds that in no way relates to their personal security.

In addition, all claims that were made and subsequently rejected (floating duck houses etc) have also been 'redacted'. The public have a right to know just how these politicians are attempting to exploit the system to their own benefit, so censoring failed claims is completely unacceptable. If these people did not want public scrutiny of their affairs then they should not have a. entered public life and b. attempted to use public money to line their own pockets.

However, despite the fact that it would be in the public interest to investigate and prosecute all of the trough dwellers that have done wrong, it appears that there is only to be a limited investigation and no doubt they'll get away with just a slapped wrist.

On the subject of publicity, I finally received a response from Errol Lutton last Wednesday. Did he answer any of the questions that I had originally asked in April? No.

What he did reveal was that despite my contacting the CSA in March of this year, he had spoken to my ex-wife the night before to confirm that what I was telling him was the truth. He also told me that he would be writing to Greg Clark and that I would be kept informed about what was happening. I'll believe it when it happens.

There's a forum where someone has made a Freedom of Information Act request to the CSA about how many complaints they receive each year. It appears that they receive approximately 48,000. I'm amazed, I was sure that it would be more. There is also someone on the same forum that claims that it is pointless to complain just once. Their advice was to complain repeatedly and often!

Changing tack completely, I will struggle for the next month with the power that has been thrust upon me. The Squadron OC is away on business in the Far East, so as the 2ic I have had to step up in his absence. There are advantages, though, as m'Julie and I have been invited to the Mayor's garden party in July. The downside to that will no doubt be the cost of the dress, and the hat, and the shoes, not forgetting the matching bag.........

First stop, County Hall, next stop Buck House!

However, all this is dependent on m'Julie, as she is currently laid up having prolapsed a vertebral disc the weekend before last. And what highly strenuous activity was she participating in when she did this damage? She was watering her plants!

Proof that gardening is, in fact, a dangerous activity and also proof that my refusal to do any gardening is completely justified.

The other problem that I have discovered which may impact on this function is that it is likely that I will be required to wear service dress. Unfortunately, when I tried on the jacket last week, it appears that during the time that it has been in the wardrobe whilst I was off last year, it has shrunk! I am therefore exploring ways of making the jacket bigger, and me smaller.

My efforts at dieting this week are being assisted by the fact that I have developed a dental abscess. This, due to the pain, means that I have very little appetite as well as the fact that, following the commencement of the root canal treatment, I have difficulty opening my mouth.

Currently, I have a temporary filling in place to give the infection a chance to resolve, aided by antibiotics, before going back to finish treatment next Tuesday.

Unfortunately, not only will I be getting lighter, but so will my wallet. Yesterday’s start of treatment set me back £95.00. Maybe I should have asked for a general anaesthetic on top of the local anaesthetic prior to being given the bill.

Typical!

Typical! Part 1: Having spent all that time and effort being sarcastic to that waster Purnell, what does he do? He resigns! Now I'll have to deal with a different Muppet! (Yvette Cooper who, along with her husband, another politician called Ed Balls, seems to be even more corrupt than her predecessor when it comes to parliamentary expenses, if that's possible!) He hasn't gone quietly, either, suggesting that Chairman Brown should step down for the good of everybody.

What did make me laugh was that the day after he resigned, a news reporter was camped outside Purnell's house in his constituency and reported that people kept stopping and telling him that he was wasting his time as Purnell had only been seen in his constituency once in the last ten years!

However, on the day that he resigned, I did get a letter from Greg Clarke, informing me that he had received my letter and that he had written to the chief executive of the CSA (now called the Child Maintenance and Enforcement Commission), Stephen Geraghty. This caused me some confusion, as when I had written to Mary Quinn, both the CSA website and the idiot that I spoke to stated that Mary Quinn was the chief executive, although I now notice that the website has been changed, and the Mary Quinn page, although still claiming that she is chief executive of the CSA, appears in the Department for Social Development website.

I didn't think that involving my MP would have much effect other than to get the morons at the CSA to actually do their jobs. But I was wrong, as I found out when Kevin Maguire phoned me on Friday to inform me that he was no longer dealing with my case, as it had been passed over to the Earl Luton (I still think that this could be an alias!) in the parliamentary team.

Whilst I had him on the phone, I also asked Kevin Maguire who his chief executive was. Just as well it wasn't a life or death question as he told me both Stephen Geraghty and Mary Quinn before putting me on hold and finding out before informing me that Mary Quinn is the head of the CSA and Stephen Geraghty is the chief executive. I'm still none the wiser.

I also had the rather bizarre experience of answering my phone yesterday to an Irish voice saying 'Hello, my name is Earl.....' However, that is where the humour ended as this idiot, obviously the Earl Luton that I'd been told about, informed me that he had taken over my case and had fifteen days (another CSA three weeks) to respond. More delays, meaning that by the time that I get this sorted it will be about eight weeks or more since my initial letter. Not exactly efficient when it states on their website

"It can seem difficult to make a complaint, but we want to make it as easy as possible so we can get things right".

Maybe they should let me design a more truthful website for them, perhaps

"Do you know an unemployable village idiot? If so, we have vacancies, especially management positions, just for them here at the Child Support Agency. Experience is a definite disadvantage although very low IQ and inability to perform the most simple of tasks will ensure rapid promotion. If they are exceptionally 'special' they will be assigned to our complaints resolution team in an effort to make it as difficult as possible for our incompetence to be exposed".

Earl Luton seemed quite surprised when I informed him that I expected things to move much faster than he was telling me as it had already been some time since my original complaint. His plea of it not being his fault that this process was taking so long was greeted by my informing him that I didn't care whose fault their inability to actually carry out their job was and that the whole business provided further evidence of the incompetence of the entire agency and all of its employees.

Typical! Part 2: When I received the phone call on Friday, I was on a minibus on my way to the Brecon Beacons having taken the day off to attend the Army Medical Services TA Patrolling Competition which was taking place in the Sennybridge training area, although purely in my role as Sqn 2ic, rather than as a competitor (far too old and unfit for that!)

All week, the weather had been very pleasant, even when we left the Unit for the six hour drive to Wales, it was still sunny, although it was getting a bit nippier the further west we went.

We arrived at 8pm and after a briefing, made our way to the main admin area, where we were eaten alive by midges before the guys headed off and I headed back to a room in the main camp. After that, it all went downhill.

When I got up on Saturday morning, although the sun wasn't visible, it was just overcast and colder than the day before. Stupidly, I left my waterproof in the room in my Bergen. I say stupidly, because no sooner had I got to the training area and had a briefing than the skies opened. And it continued to rain for the next 30 hours!

I managed to get round and see the team and met up with one of my colleagues at lunchtime and we were able to meet up with the team again during the rest of the day. We were lucky. We were moving from point to point in a vehicle, with heating and protected from the rain, whereas the teams were moving on foot.

Inevitably, there were several casualties, quite a few due to the cold and rain, so the decision was taken by the brass that the teams would be returned to the main camp, rather than stay out as they were supposed to. Myself and my colleague waited for the team to return and travelled with them to Sennybridge Camp before making our way to Brecon to the hotel where we were staying, The Castle.

The hotel was very nice and fortunately had working radiators, which meant that I was able to place my completely soaking wet uniform on them to dry out. With all the fresh Welsh air of the day and after a couple of pints in the bar, I slept really well. However, when I woke up, because I'd put the radiators on full to dry out my uniform, I was drenched!

After breakfast, it was back to the training area for the last of the events and we left the area at 2pm. And, typically, as we pulled on to the main road, the cloud cleared, revealing blue sky and sunshine, to the extent that we had to put the air con on in the car!

The team had done very well, considering that in the main competitors were from the various Field Hospitals, who have 7-8 times more personnel than the Squadrons to choose from, and finished higher than many of the other Squadrons.

So, sixty hours after leaving home, I was back and the process of sorting out my kit began, ready for the next exercise.

Typical! Part 3: When Alec, my eldest, was thrown out by his mother and moved in with me, I applied for child benefit. An application went in and then I received a letter asking for more information and proof that he is still at school. All this information was sent back to them three weeks ago.

However, last Tuesday there was another letter, identical to the first, with the words 'Duplicate-please reply' written across the top. Curious as to why this was sent, I called the number on the letter.

Unfortunately, when I got through and heard the Irish accent my heart immediately sank. I have nothing against the Irish, but I suspected that this may indicate that this agency was co-located with the morons of the CSA. And the woman I spoke to didn't allay my concerns, as every time I asked her a question or tried to explain to her that I had already sent in the information, she just kept repeating "You need to complete the form with the requested information and send it back". I decided to change tack and asked to speak to the section that was named on the letter.

I was refused access to this section and the woman also refused to tell me whether or not my previous information had been received, just repeating "You need to complete the form with the requested information and send it back".

Eventually, she agreed to inform the relevant section that I had telephoned and assured me that I would receive a call-back within three working days, which was Friday.

On Monday, having heard nothing, I telephoned again and spoke to someone who was much more helpful. What she told me was that it appeared that the section had indeed received the information that they had requested, but that it had been 'misplaced'.

When I asked the woman why it was that her colleague hadn't told me that the information had been lost, she was unable to tell me. She also pointed out that the information hadn't been lost, it had been 'misplaced'. When I asked her where it was and she told me that she didn't know, I suggested that she consult the dictionary and look up the definition of 'lost'.

So, now I have the information (again!) which is being posted to the Child Benefit agency (again!) so let’s see if they lose it (again!).

Silence is not always golden

At the time that I am starting this, it is Sunday evening and the house seems quite large. The reason is that Drew and Maggie have gone home, although it was made difficult for me by the fact that Maggie clearly didn't want to go. I think that it has to be the worst feeling in the world. I suspect that it will be written over a couple of days, so hopefully that feeling will have lessened by the time that this is finished.

The kids had arrived on Wednesday as it was half term, and I was pleased to see that Drew seemed to have fully recovered from the appendicectomy that he'd undergone two weeks previously. On Wednesday evening, m'Julie came up with the idea of visiting Greenwich on the following day. The reason for this is that at Greenwich there is the Royal Observatory, The Queen's House and the National Maritime Museum.

So it was that all five of us descended on Paddock Wood station for the trip up to Greenwich, which was slightly prolonged due to the inevitable problems on the railway, and we arrived in Greenwich at lunchtime. After a nice lunch in a French cafe, we made our way across Greenwich Park to our first stop, the Royal Observatory.

The first, and in fact I think the last time that I was at the Observatory was in 1976, when there had been an exhibition at the Maritime Museum commemorating the 200 years since America had gained independence. It had changed in the 33 years since my last visit.

The main exhibition area of the Royal Observatory is very interesting and we had the inevitable photo of us straddling the prime meridian.

Unfortunately, they were very strict about people not taking photographs inside the actual exhibition area which was a shame as there were so many historic and rare artefacts to be seen.

After the exhibition, we made our way to the only part of the whole 'Greenwich experience' that actually costs anything, the Peter Harrison Planetarium, where we were able to see what the sky should have looked like on Thursday night had there not been so much light pollution.

After the show we made our way back across Greenwich Park to the National Maritime Museum. One thing that I hadn't realised was that the site of the museum had once been the site of the Royal Hospital School, which is the inferior, Naval, equivalent of my old school, The Duke of York's Royal Military School, as well as being the old school of my friend Bruce. 

Unfortunately, we didn't actually get to the museum until nearly 1630, and as it closed at 1700, we had very limited time to look around. However, I'm sure that there will be another visit during the three weeks that the kids are staying over the summer holidays.

Friday was a relaxed day at home, the kids spending most of the day playing World of Warcraft (!), but m'Julie making plans for us all to go out on Saturday.

As the day dawned bright and sunny, the idea that m'Julie had been talking about on Friday was put into action and we headed to the South Coast metropolis that is Eastbourne, aka God's Waiting Room. Although this is not the nearest coast to us, the alternative, Hastings, is in my opinion, a complete cess-pool, hence the choice we made. 

We headed straight to the beach and the girls, who were already wearing their swimming costumes headed into the sea, which resulted in a loss, as Maggie decided that because it’s a stony beach she would wear her sandals. Unfortunately, a large wave sucked off one of them, and despite her best efforts to grab it, it was 'lost at sea'.

Drew also joined the girls, but as he hadn't taking his swimming costume, it was a case of rolling up his shorts and having a paddle.

After a quick meal and a visit to the pier, we all made our way back to the car and headed up to Beachy Head, which although it is so close, is the first time that I'd ever been there. After several attempts to get the video camera in still picture 'timer' mode, I was successful.

As well as being a well known beauty spot, it is also notorious as being a very popular suicide spot, to the extent that there are chaplaincy patrols along the cliffs. As I write this on Monday evening, there is a news report about two adults and a child whose bodies have been found 400 feet down Beachy Head.

Also in the above picture is Percy the Gnome, who was a present last year from H, and, now that he's been painted, is to be pictured in various places that we visit. m'Julie is even talking about his having his own Facebook page!

After all this fresh sea air, we were all feeling quite tired by the time we got home, which meant that for most of us, Sunday was another chill-out day before the kids left, although Hannah did have a dancing exam in the morning that she will find out the result of in a couple of weeks.

So, as I said at the start of this, the house is 'silent' again, so I can return to abusing politicians. The reason for this is that the 'special' person from the CSA with whom I had spoken, apparently called Kevin Maguire, called me back on Wednesday morning.

However, after a ten-minute conversation, rather than suggesting a solution, Kevin Maguire informed me that he 'couldn't make head nor tail' of my case and was having to request the case papers, which would take a further seven to ten working days to reach him. I was left wondering what this person had actually done since receiving my complaint, and was left to conclude what I already knew. Kevin Maguire had clearly done nothing.

Following this very unsatisfactory conversation and having had no response to my original letter, I decided to write to Purnell again to see if I could elicit a response from a second letter:

Dear Mr Purnell,

I wrote to you on 18 April 2009 regarding the incompetence that is rife within the Child Support Agency. To date I have received no reply, not even from your staff, although I am aware that your claiming staffing costs does not necessarily mean that you employ any staff.

Now that your behaviour re: expenses is in the public domain and you no longer have to spend time and effort in any attempts to cover this up, I trust that you will return to your Ministerial duties and look into my complaint and inform me of any action that you have either taken or ordered to be taken.

Yours sincerely

Not content with this, I also wrote to my local MP, Greg Clark, enclosing copies of my letters to both Purnell and the equally useless Mary Quinn. The reason for this is that when I previously had problems with the CSA in 2007, I involved Greg Clark.

Having had no luck from writing to the then Secretary of State, John Hutton, and the then CSA Chief Executive, Stephen Geraghty (another pair of oxygen thieves), I contacted Greg Clark, and within days had a solution.

Hopefully, the result will be the same, particularly as there is bound to be an election before long.

An apology

It appears that I have to make an apology, because in my previous entry I stated that I had not received a reply from James Purnell, Secretary of State for Work and Pensions, and I suggested that this was because he was too busy trying to fleece the British public for all that he could get. I was wrong. It appears that he had already done that when he evaded paying the Capital Gains Tax when he sold his London flat.

However, he is not alone, as there are at least two others to partner him in his crime, Geoff Hoon, a man whom I met just before I went to Iraq as he was Defence Secretary at the time, and Hazel Blears. Interestingly, whereas Gordon Brown appears to be hanging Blears out to dry, it seems that he's backing both Purnell and Hoon. But then the latter two haven't criticised Chairman Broon or laughed at his YouTube appearance.

The other thing that I find completely unbelievable about this whole thing is that these parasites have been robbing us for years. Now that they have been found out, despite the fact that they did their utmost to cover up their wrongdoing, and all of a sudden it’s a case of them all being very sorry and don't worry, they'll pay it all back.

Actually, I do believe that they are sorry, but they are only sorry that they have been caught out. Would they have changed their ways had the Speaker and his cronies' attempts to block the Freedom of Information Act from having any sway in Parliament succeeded? Of course not!

And as for the paying back the money that they have stolen, I think that this could well set a very dangerous legal precedent. Whilst MPs make the law, they are still subject to that law. If, by repaying the monies that they have obtained either deceitfully or in many cases fraudulently, they evade prosecution, then surely the precedent is set that anyone who commits a crime and benefits financially from it merely has to pay back the monies stolen, or return the items that were stolen, to avoid prosecution and jail.

Personally, I believe that all those that are found to have been less than 100% honest in the expenses claims should be prosecuted and, if found guilty, subject to a harsher penalty than their fellow criminals. After all, they are the ones that make the law, so if you break it, you face a harsher penalty.

However, will it ever get that far? Unlikely. No doubt Chairman Broon and his Politburo will come up with some fiddle to ensure that all the crims are given some sort of Parliamentary immunity.

The biggest problem that faces the British public at the moment is that with so many corrupt MPs, there have been many calls for the Government to stand down and a General Election held. But who would replace the current lot?

When all of these revelations first came about, there were several 'mainstream' MPs trying to scare the public that if they didn't accept the situation and voted them out, then the 'extremists' would get into power.

Again, I think it unlikely. If you look at the current make up of Parliament and recent by-election results, the only credible options seem to be the British National Party, the Green Party and the UK Independence Party. The BNP is not a credible option as it is just too extreme (I would hope) for most voters, bearing in mind that this is the party that recently claimed that L/Cpl Johnson Beharry VC was only awarded his Victoria Cross because of his colour!

As for the Greens and UKIP, I think that both of these parties simply lack the credibility, which unfortunately, leaves the only option being the three 'Snouts in the Trough' parties.

Perhaps some trust and confidence could be regained in these if there was a definite move to deselect all those MPs whose actions are found to be less than honourable prior to the next election. However, as it appears that none of the three Party leaders come out of this squeaky clean, I doubt that this will happen.

Going back to Purnell, it appears that the CSA obviously have insight into just how inactive this moron is, as my problem still hasn't been resolved. I did telephone last week but got through to another of the 'special' people that they employ.

He informed me that he had no idea what was happening with my case and that he had no idea who was dealing with it. There then followed a period of him looking to find out who was dealing with my case before I heard him laugh and announce to a colleague 'Oops, it’s me'. At this point I was put on hold.

When this idiot came back onto the line, he informed me that it was him that was dealing with my case and sounded surprised when I told him that I knew as I'd heard every word and that this summed up the efficiency of the CSA. Clearly not happy at this point he became quite verbally aggressive and informed me that he didn't have to do anything for 15 days from receipt of my complaint.

As 15 days was up I asked what he intended to do. However, CSA 15 days is not like normal people's 15 days, as they only count Monday to Friday as days, so CSA 15 days is three weeks, not just over two. Clearly the 'special' people at the CSA need their own 'special' calendar. The upshot of all this is that they will be doing nothing before next week.

I, on the other hand have been less idle. There is a programme on the Beeb in the evening, and they recently investigated the fact that the CSA are often pursuing men who are not the fathers of the babies that they are being forced to pay for, and that they are often pursuing the fathers on the say so of the mothers.

One of the things that the show was doing was asking fathers that have had this experience to contact one of their researchers. Whilst I haven't been falsely accused of fathering a child, I did take the opportunity to email the researcher and suggest that they may want to investigate and highlight the general incompetence of the CSA. Watch this space.

Mind you, my ex-wife actually spoke to me for the first time in about three years, not through lawyers or via email, but on the telephone. Unfortunately, the reason was that No.2 son, Drew, was admitted to the hospital where I work and had his appendix out. Very bizarre, really, as there is almost exactly four years difference between them, Alec's birthday being the 20th July and Drew's the 21st. The bizarre thing is that it was almost four years to the day since Alec had his appendix out.

It was also typical that he was admitted on the one day that week that I wasn't at work, as I had taken time owing to do some TA stuff. Fortunately, I was recceing an exercise area nearby so was able to detour into the hospital on the way back, which surprised a few of the staff (I was in uniform) and caused one Dr to greet me with the words 'What the f*ck are you doing dressed like that!'

By the time I saw Drew, it had already been decided that he was going to theatre that afternoon, so I was able to help him get changed and settle down. The heat coming off him was incredible.

After a short visit I headed back to the Sqn and didn't see him until later that evening, by which time he was appendix free and very sleepy, although he did have enough strength to gesticulate at his brother, whom I'd taken in with me.

To my surprise, he was discharged by lunchtime the following day, less than 24hrs post-op, and seems to be doing fine.

The reason that I was doing the TA stuff is that last weekend I did my first 'proper' field exercise with the Sqn since February last year. I say 'proper' because we were visited by a Brigadier and the Regimental CO and in the evening we left the training area, changed and went out for a meal at a local Gastropub, before changing back and returning to the exercise area.

Not only was this the first exercise I'd done in a while, it was one that I'd organised, the emphasis being on primary health care, which, from experience, I know will be the majority of the work that the medics will have if they deploy.

It was also the first of a series of five exercises, all emphasising the primary care role, that I was to organise, but I have also been appointed as the Second-in-Command (2ic) of the Sqn and, although I will be running the next exercise in July, I will be handing the organisation of the remaining three to one of the other Officers.

I was surprised at just how rusty I'd got with my enforced break, from just the military point of view. It took me a while to pack my Bergen as I was convinced that I'd forgotten things. It all came flooding back over the weekend though, and I'd planned for everything to be done in slow time anyway.

Apart from the Gastropub meal on the Saturday evening, the remainder of the weekend we ate rations, including some of the Halal rations, which I thought were far better than the old rations (apart from the mushroom omelette. I hate mushrooms!). There were even tubes of strawberry jam and Vegemite in some of the packs!

The downside was that on Monday I had a bit of a 'gastric upset', although, as it didn't hit until the evening, I suspect that it was a bug rather than something that I'd eaten. What it did mean was that I only worked for two days this week, as hospital policy is that if you have D&V, you don't go back to work for 72 hours, even if you feel fine.

So after my two day week, I now have a no day week, as its half-term and I have the kids from next Wednesday.

Snouts in the Trough

Having written to the Secretary of State for Work and Pensions, a complete waster by the name of James Purnell, I had expected to at least get an acknowledgement that my letter had been received. To date, nothing. Not even from his minions within the Department of Work and Pensions. How rude!

I have read on other forums that people have written to various ministers and received no reply. They have even been defended on some as being too busy with their day to day duties to be able to respond to the countless letters that they receive from various people. However, I think I know the real reason why.

It appears that British Members of Parliament spend an awful lot of their time finding ways to fleece the British public that voted them in, and then claiming that these are legitimate expenses. Examples that have been quoted are an MP who claimed for a Kit Kat, another who claimed for tampons and even one who claimed that she felt unsafe in her own London home and claimed more than £25,000 for security patrols, despite being a millionaire.

There has also been much concern about MPs second home allowance, which they receive so that they are able to live in London because their home or constituency makes it impractical for them to commute. However, it was revealed in 2007 that 16 London MPs are claiming more than £20,000 a year for second homes, even though they live less than an hour's commute from Westminster.

Another MP, less than a year after being elected, put in a detailed claim for various repairs to a house that she had already lived in for five years! Even the Solicitor General is at it, claiming for 'miscellaneous items' which it was spotted were a Christmas tree and decorations. On that occasion the claim was not paid, but what's the betting that it was claimed back some other way. At least she didn't try to claim for porn films watched by her husband, which is what the Home Secretary, Jacqui Smith, did.

Purnell had a second home in Covent Garden, which he claimed more than half of the rent on expenses each month, despite the fact that his girlfriend allegedly contributed half of the rent. When he moved out recently, he lost his deposit of £2,500 because, according to his landlord, he left the flat like a pigsty. So what happened to the £1,600 that Purnell claimed for employing a cleaner. Not surprisingly, Purnell has denied that the flat was as bad as claimed. Similar to the denial that he had allowed himself to be 'photoshopped' into a photograph. Perhaps he was late for the photo shoot because he was busy lining his pockets elsewhere.

All the information regarding expenses was recently published in a National newspaper, and Parliament is far from happy. The reason is that they had always vehemently opposed scrutiny of their expenses. Straight away, to me, this raises suspicions. However, the Commons authorities lost the legal battle and the expenses were due to be published on July 1st. Now they've been leaked to a newspaper and parliament has called in the Police. That seems to be a case of 'We've been caught with our fingers in the till, so we'll call the Police and try to deflect it onto someone else'. If the expenses were due for publication anyway, is this not a huge (further) waste of public money, or were the expenses due to be 'sanitised' prior to publication, and the leaking has circumvented the sanitation process?

It’s interesting to read just how much work an MP actually does (or not, in most cases). And it’s not that difficult to find out. In fact, there's a web site, appropriately titled TheyWorkForYou.com. And I think that this is where the problem arises. Unfortunately, once politicians are elected, they forget that they are nothing more than public servants, and often very transient ones at that, sometimes in the 'job' of being an Member of Parliament for as little as four years. The hierarchical system means that the only guidance that they seem to receive from their more senior colleagues is in how to take advantage of other 'perks' that they were unaware of and line their pockets further. Maybe that's why so many of them spend so much time trying to fleece the system for as much as they can get.

Sadly, a legal precedent has now be set that means that MPs do not actually have a duty to their constituents, which I guess gives them free rein to do nothing whilst getting paid large sums and taking every opportunity to line their own pockets. Isn't democracy great.

Suspecting that Purnell would turn out to be an utterly useless oxygen thief, I also wrote to Mary Quinn, another waste of skin public servant. I had written to this woman previously, about two years ago, so am qualified to describe her as I have.

In my five page letter, I have catalogued the total incompetence of the agency of which she is head and given her two weeks to sort the mess out. However, I firmly believe that Mary Quinn, the Chief Executive of the Child Support Agency, is so incompetent that she couldn't find her own arse with a map, a person pointing to her arse to show her where it was and a huge neon sign saying 'Your arse is here' if she was given two lifetimes, so I don't hold out much hope.

Normally, someone this incompetent would have been removed from post and reassigned to something more in keeping with her apparent abilities, counting paperclips perhaps, but Mary Quinn, the Chief Executive of the Child Support Agency is fortunate that she has Purnell as Secretary of State, a man who probably doesn't realise that there is a problem.

Having written to Quinn, in which I gave her four tasks that I expected her to perform in a fortnight and actually stating:

'I expect you carry out the above personally, as I have already seen that your minions are actually incapable of performing the duties for which they have been employed.'

the only response that I have had so far is a telephone call from the complaints department to inform me that they had received my complaint and that someone would contact me within a few days. Obviously, Quinn is too stupid to follow simple instructions, so has passed it on to an equally incapable minion, who telephoned in an effort to placate me almost a week ago. Again, I don't hold out a lot of hope of a solution.

Perhaps I should take a leaf out of the book of a man named Mr Daz. The CSA will no longer talk to this man on the telephone because, like the CSA, he records all of his phone calls. But, unlike the CSA, he uploads these calls to the Internet, including one where they have informed him that they will only communicate with him by post, before going on to reveal that although they have his correct address in their records, they have been sending all communication to him to the wrong address. Genius! At least it has proven that I'm not the only one that talks to morons when I telephone this agency.

On a far more cheery note, last weekend saw myself and my sons make the annual trip to Twickenham for the Army v Navy rugby match, or, as it should be called, the Fiji v Navy rugby match.

Drinking started early, in fact as soon as we arrived at Waterloo at 1115 and carried on for pretty much the rest of the day, with just a short break for the match, although it was more of a rout, the Army winning 50-7.

Alec's godfather, Guy, had travelled down from Shropshire with his girlfriend and her daughter and we were also able to meet up with H. Sadly, this may be the last time that myself and the boys all go together as Alec will probably be in Guyana next year, at Sandhurst the year after and then who knows.

It was odd being back in Twickenham, as well, as I had lived there as a child and Guy and I had gone to college there. In fact, as we made our way back to Richmond station along the river, there was much reminiscing going on, admittedly much of it with the boys saying 'Do we want to know about this!?!'

So now it’s back to the real world and preparing for a TA exercise next weekend. Hope it doesn't rain too much!

All Change Please

Well, the last few weeks has been fairly busy, but unfortunately, not all in a good way. Initially it was good, and the kids arrived at nearly the time they were due.

We'd decided that we'd take the kids out on the days that we had them, and the first visit was at the request of Hannah, to Drusillas Zoo Park in Sussex. Hannah had been there recently with one of m'Julie's friends and had enjoyed it so much she wanted to go back.

Surprisingly, although it’s not that far, it took us a while to get there, and we arrived just before lunch. then the was the second surprise, the cost of entry! So, with my wallet lighter to the tune of nearly £100 we made our way round.

Drusillas is a small zoo and isn't home to the 'bigger' animals, lions, tigers etc, but there is a variety of animals and I think that we all enjoyed our afternoon out.

One thing that we did prove, if proof was needed, was that Drew is the loudest of the kids, as there is a part where you can compare your vocal talents to various animals.

The following day, we decided to kill two birds with one stone and headed to the Army Medical Services Museum near Aldershot. Fortunately this was free, and I had to sort some things out whilst I was there and left m'Julie and the kids to have a look round, catching up with them when I was done. However, I hadn't taken a camera, and due to m'Julie's dental background, most of the photos that we got were Royal Army Dental Corps in nature!

After this we grabbed some lunch and I got the opportunity to embarrass the kids. We'd gone to the Pizza Hut in Farnborough which, being a lunchtime, was quite busy. When it came to attracting the waiter/tresses attention so that we could order desert, we had no luck. The queue at the counter was also very long. And then I had a stroke of genius. From where we were sitting we could see the number for deliveries. I took out my mobile and I called it. At this point Maggie and Hannah tried to hide under the table and Drew went scarlet and decided that he needed to go to the loo.

It worked, though, so after that we went and visited Stan aka Porl aka Naive Zebra, and spent a very pleasant couple of hours with him and his brother. Stan also very kindly loaded the girls up with cuttings from his garden and the rest of us with various of his home-made sauces.

On the way back, we managed to avoid an accident when m'Julie spotted the 'Eat More Chips' lorry only because we were stuck in traffic on the M25, and m'Julie's high-decibel outburst had limited effect.

After the kids had gone home, there was then a routine fortnight of work etc. But all that changed last Friday. m'Julie and I were doing the month's shop and we were expecting the kids for the weekend. As we were paying, my phone rang. It was my eldest son, Alec, letting me know that he had just been assaulted, again, by his mother's boyfriend and was awaiting the arrival of the Police.

I say again, because this man (I use the term very loosely) Stephen George, has made a bit of a habit of doing this. The first incident was in September 2005, just after my ex-wife had introduced this creature to our children, having met him on one of those less scrupulous SOS (Sad Old Singles) internet dating sites. I was in Canada with the Army at the time, and apparently my son and his mother had an argument. George took it upon himself to settle the argument by pinning Alec to a bed and punching him.

Although the Police were called, my ex, her boyfriend and her mother concocted a story and he was let off, despite having previous convictions. The second occasion was when Alec was in Norway with his mother and her boyfriend, visiting his mother's cousin. Again he was assaulted, and again the Police were informed, but they lost interest when told that the offence had taken place outside the UK.

At least on this last occasion, George found himself in handcuffs and in the back of a Police van, although sadly the Police decided to release the cretin without charge later that evening. How this individual was ever allowed to stand for election as a Conservative candidate in the Trumpington Ward of Cambridge I will never understand.

As a result of this, his mother decided that she would, yet again, put herself ahead of her children. On the Saturday evening m'Julie received a text from my ex-wife informing her that someone needed to go to the back gate. The reason for this was that she had had one of her friends pile all of Alec's possessions into her car and this woman was unloading them outside the locked back gate. 

So Alec is now living with us, his mother is continuing to be as awkward as ever and he is desparately trying to get sponsorship to do his gap year teaching in Guyana. All donations to.........

New Haunts and Old Haunts

As I prophesied at the end of the last blog, I have now spoken with Darren Marner of the CSA (I name him because the CSA some time ago told that there would be a lot of trouble if I named names, and I am curious to see if they have a. the balls, and b. the competence to carry out their threat. As this cock-up is entirely their fault I doubt it in both cases). It does appear that they screwed up at the beginning of October and started taking less than they should. According to Darren Marner, I should have noticed this, despite the fact that I was recovering from my surgery, but he did admit that I am being penalised for his department's incompetence. Interestingly, when I asked about the money that I'm owed, it wasn't his department. James Purnell will be receiving suitably snotty letter within the next few days.

On a much lighter note, me and m'Julie have been away for a couple of days to the West Country, staying in an old fishing village called Clovelly on the North Devon coast. Despite having lived in Exeter for 4 years, and having talked about visiting Clovelly, which was less than 70 miles away, this was my first visit, which meant a 500 mile round trip.

We left on Sunday morning because we had decided that we were going to break the journey a couple of times. On the way, Julie indulged in her new hobby.

A couple of years ago, whilst on a long and boring trip to somewhere, I was pointing out to m'Julie the Eddie Stobart lorries, telling her that each of the lorries has a unique name and that there were even 'Eddie Spotters'! As a result of this m'Julie joined the Eddie Stobart Fan Club, and was then armed with the spotters' book when we did long and boring journeys.

As a direct result of this, a few weeks later on a trip to France, m'Julie spotted a lorry with the words 'Eat More Chips' emblazoned on its side. There are several blogs and web pages about the trucks, which apparently belong to a fruit and vegetable producer in Wiltshire. Unfortunately, now, whenever we are driving and we see one of these lorries, m'Julie will point and announce at about 130 decibels

"EAT MORE CHIPS!"

Sunday was no exception and when we did see one on the M3, I almost had another MI as Julie shouted!

The first break was at Stonehenge. This is just of the A303, the route that we'd taken. Although I have driven up and down this road numerous times and seen it, I'd never stopped. Julie had never seen it other than in pictures or on TV, so it was a new experience for both of us.

It was surprising was how busy the place was. There was almost no space in the car park and the queue to get in was fairly long. However, as we had our English Heritage cards, we were able to 'queue-jump'. We spent about an hour walking around the site with Julie inevitably taking pictures, a couple of which are below. The downside was that although we had snow two weeks ago, this part of the UK didn't get it until a week after us and it was still, to quote m'Julie, 'Absolutely gibbering!'

After a quick hot drink we then continued our journey westward although there was another stop prior to our final destination, in Ottery St Mary. The reason for this detour was to visit my old school friend, drinking buddy, best man etc, Richard aka Pete, his wife Maree and his daughter Keira, who is three days older than my daughter Maggie.

It had been some time since I had seen them, in fact the last time was three years ago at my mother's funeral, and it had been longer since I last saw Keira. We spent a very pleasant few hours, and were treated to homemade Sunday lunch. The biggest surprise to me was Keira. As I've said, it’s been a while since I've seen her. I've known 'Pete' for 30 years, and met his niece when she was a little bit younger than his daughter, yet Keira could be Steph's twin sister, only 20-odd years younger! Unfortunately, the only picture that was taken was the 'Battle of the Bellies'!

Due to the time that we left, we realised that we would be arriving in Clovelly after dark, which made for an interesting journey. The reason that it was interesting was that as we got nearer, a mist/fog descended, not unlike that in the film of the same name. Whilst this made driving a little more difficult, it freaked m'Julie out completely, who found it very 'Hound of the Baskervilles-like'. However, as we drove from Higher Clovelly into Clovelly itself, the mist vanished, literally. One minute it was thick mist, the next, nothing.

Now it’s not possible to drive into the village itself, so what we had to do was park in the visitors car park. Normally, if you aren't staying in the village, you have to park here and enter via the visitors centre, there being an entry fee to the village. However, because we were staying, there was no entry fee. But, because we didn't arrive until after 6pm, the visitors centre was closed.

Fortunately, there is a side gate that's open 'out of hours' and we were able to make our way into the village via this. The initial path is quite steep, but tarmacked, and then the fun began. The path becomes steeper, and cobbled, which is fine if you're wearing thick-soled shoes, as I was, but not if the soles are thin, like m'Julie's. That was why, as we walked down the street to the hotel, my progress was accompanied by the sound of footfalls and m'Julie's was accompanied by the sound of footfalls and her saying 'ow', 'ouch' etc.

However, the torture didn't last long as the hotel where we were staying was about half-way down the hill. Having booked in and dumped the bags in the room, we decided to have a walk down to the harbour, but only after m'Julie had changed her shoes.

We walked part of the way down to the harbour, but because it was so dark, we could hear nothing and decided to leave it until the following day. So it was back to the hotel, dinner and sleep.

After a pretty good night's sleep (well, on my part at least) and a good breakfast, m'Julie and I headed up to the visitor centre to watch the video about the village. Then we decided to make our way to the harbour, stopping at all the points of interest in-between. At least m'Julie was wearing her trainers today and we didn't have a repeat of the previous evening.

Having seen all the sights on the way down through the village, we arrived at the harbour just in time for lunch, so we had a pub lunch at the pub on the quay.

By the time we'd eaten, the tide had gone out and we were able to make our way along the 'beach' to a waterfall. I say 'beach' because this is no golden sand sun-kissed beach, this one is bleak, battered by the Atlantic and consists of large pebbles/boulders. The waterfall is often more fierce than when we saw it and there is a legend that the cave behind the waterfall is the place where Merlin was born.

I also discovered, whilst taking the pictures, that if, after taking the picture, I continued to hold the camera to my face, then m'Julie would carry on posing in front of the waterfall, getting more and more wet. Well I laughed!

After this, it was the long walk back up the hill to the hotel and another pint before having an afternoon doze.

Feeling suitably refreshed we then set off up the hill again to the Norman church of All Saints. This was quite a walk, including a slight detour when we went through a gate, thinking that it was a short-cut to the church, only to discover that it seemed to lead into the grounds of the person who owns the village.

After walking back to the hotel and having something to eat, we decided that walking up and down the hill that is Clovelly had knackered us and we retired to our room for the rest of the evening.

After another good night's sleep and breakfast, it was time to say goodbye to Clovelly for the circuitous return journey to Kent. I say circuitous because our first stop was Exeter.

As I have already said, I lived in Exeter for four years just after I got married. I had done my training there and my eldest son was born there. But this was the first time that I had been back since leaving in May 1994. m'Julie, on the other hand, had never been there.

Again, it wasn't to be straight forward as Gadget Girl had taken a liking to a camera she'd seen and we had to detour to a couple of shops to try and find one. Unfortunately, they only had them in silver, and not the red that she wanted.

For that reason, m'Julie had to use the perfectly good camera that she already owned to take the photos in Exeter Cathedral.

After walking around the Cathedral, we had some lunch and then I decided to visit the old school of nursing to see who was still around. I was to get a shock.

The school of nursing, when I'd trained had been in the old maternity home. So we drove to where it had been located, only to discover that it was no longer the school of nursing, but now an old peoples home. In fact, one of the ladies that I spoke with told me that many of the residents had actually been born there. I suspect that the school has now been moved to the site of the main hospital, which has changed a lot in the last 15 years, especially the fact that the old concrete-cancer riddled tower block that had housed the wards has been pulled down.

After briefly pointing out to m'Julie a couple of the houses where I'd lived in Exeter, we set off homeward again, this time with a detour for m'Julie to the town of Glastonbury, as neither of us had ever been there.

The intention had been that we would visit Glastonbury Tor have a look round the town and then carry on. However, the only way to get to the Tor is either a long walk or a bus ride, which we didn't really have time to do either, although we did see the Tor from a distance.

I have to say that my impression of the town of Glastonbury was not very favourable. It was full of either beggars or 'pseudo-hippies' (these are the ones that are wearing their designer hippy gear, paid for with the allowance that they get from their parents, who are either something in the City, doctors or lawyers, and these 'hippies' are on their gap year before going to University to study Law or Medicine) and the town is full of over-priced shops selling fake 'New Age' products, priced to fleece the allowance away from the pseudo-hippies.

The only upside was that when we had a drink before leaving, the guy that was working in the kitchen (possibly the owner) was the spitting image of James May.

So now we had what turned out to be the longest part of our journey, not in distance, but in time, because we had the 'joy' of driving round the world’s biggest car park, also known as the M25! As a result of this, we were both shattered when we got home, although we both felt that even though we'd only been away for two days, it seemed to be a lot longer.

Now we had twelve hours to recover before the kids descended on us............