Guilt Trip

We were up in London a couple of days ago, having a fun day and splashing a little money around (a rare treat). We'd had a nice lunch in a patisserie, bought some Chanel perfume, had a good mooch round and then went to Wardour Street for a pleasant dinner.

And then we headed for home.

As we walked through Picadilly Circus Underground, there was a guy with a blanket, reading the Metro, and a cardboard sign that said 'Ex British Army, Homeless'. I was all set to walk past him until I saw his sign, so I stopped to talk. He'd done 7 years and was late of the Royal Green Jackets. He'd been to Northern Ireland and Kosovo, and that wasn't what he joined up for, he said; I'm sure those who have done those tours will empathise. He got out but things just 'didn't go right'. I didn't press him. In September he will get a place to stay through the charity Homes 4 Heroes, and he wears one of their hoodies.

I asked him if he had anywhere to stay and he replied that he was hoping to get the £18 he needed for the night shelter. When asked if a tenner would help him, he looked at the change in his pocket and replied that would probably just about get him there.In the end, we made sure he had a bed for the night and left him.

What has gnawed at me ever since is the fact that we had blown some money on nothing really, and that we didn't think twice about making sure he had a bed. And yet, this guy was having to spend his day begging for that small sum which, I suppose, doesn't come easily.  It's the inequity that upsets me.

http://www.ukh4h.org.uk/

Veteran? Veteran of what?

I asked some of my British colleagues whether or not others were comfortable with the term 'Veteran' or being referred to as one. I'm not. This is a comment I got in reply from a colleague ex British Army medic, and all round good guy (where's my bloody book?!).
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It's because when you were growing up all that while ago, a veteran was a crusty who had served near 5-years through Normandy to Japan and back to Berlin while slaughtering the enemy on a daily basis from beneath their half-deployed parachute canopy throwing the daggers of shot-in-the-air comrades; or had shot and killed their first of many at a range of 3 feet in an enemy ambush in densest Borneo; or had faced off the bad guys in Suez in a lone tank with a track blown off by a 1.4lb'er and an issue of just 4 rounds; or swam through burning oil after a 100ft escape via a torpedo tube; or was on the Hood during its finest hour...etc.  

Perhaps you feel you do not measure to up to that childhood awe of the term, "Veteran"; the men who served to protect your freedom and jump the queue in Woolworths as grumpy old gits to whom we 'owed a debt' and an oz of tobacco, and who looked nothing like the glamorous actors in your favourite movies because they were REAL soldiers, sailors, and airmen.

Face it, you ARE that grumpy, crusty old git; you gave your time to Serve in some overly-hyped leaky, sweat-stained old 'boat'; you worked to improve the care of the wounded; you did your best to throw daggers; and you faced DMETA without loosing more than a handful - or two of marbles, and you sat watch while others slept just knowing you were there while peers dozed through life in a glaze of ignorant 'normality'. Top it all, you even volunteer to preserve the memory and memories of Veteran kin safe on Her Venerable Ladyship, The Alliance. YOU are a Veteran. Get over it. Wear it with dignity and wear it with pride. Just saying. God Bless You, and all who HAD to f'ing Suffer to Sail With You x

And another thing!

My particular brand of middle aged grumpiness comes from a couple of things. People, particularly some ex servicemen, who see things posted on the SuperInterwebhighway, and take them as gospel. The second comes from people who see an item on news, rarely more than a minute or two long, and react in a ranty, extra grumpy way without having all the information. Particularly if it reinforces their own prejudices. Research, people, research and not just the Daily Mail.

So yes, that's me being grumpy about grumpy people. Ironic really. Still, in half an hour, I shall say Zvadreite to poorly educated Bulgarians, they will smile as they say Zvadreite back, our faces will beam and all will be good with the world.

Be happy people