Today is cleaning day and a friend has come to help me. The washing is on and the kitchen table as tidy as it ever is. We have gone through the cocktail table, where I keep all my booze, and realised that I have a glut of whisky, which I can't stand. I had the worst drinking experience of my life on whisky and even the smell of it makes me gag. Why I have it all is a mystery. A lot of my friends drink it, but I don't need 4 bottles of good single malt - 3 Irish and 1 Scottish. The friends who are coming this weekend like a drop, so I'll get rid of some of it then.
I found writing about the RAF Band quite stressful - I don't think about it much, although occasionally there's a reminder in the papers under In Memoriam. I think it was February 1985, maybe the 11th? I suppose the thing I remember most is the lack of support, although my Group Captain was very good. It was snowing heavily and freezing, I do remember that. Some 6 months afterwards, my friend Jackie and I went back to Germany for a church service to remember those that lost their lives - it was an emotional experience for everyone.
My biking friend is arriving at 2 with burgers - hooray.
I spent 16 years in the RAF defending the Free World , then got bunged out unceremoniously for being bipolar. I and was subsequently diagnosed with PTSD. Funny old world, isn't it?