PC 485 Live more? Live less?

~ postcardscribblesblog ~ Leave a comment

There is something rather dictatorial about the title of this week’s postcard, but it was prompted by one of the doctors at The Hove Practice on Church Road, Dr Ellie Deane-Bowers. We were chatting about the after-effects of major surgery, and I recounted my conversation with Professor Hugh Perry, Emeritus Professor of Experimental Neuropathology at the University of Southampton, who had worked with Celina’s father in Rio de Janeiro. We had lunch with him and his wife Jess in May 2024 (See PC 388 Lymington) and, having never met me before, he asked for my ‘potted history’; where I was born, what I had done etc.

“I was born in Bath (blah blah) ……. In 2013 I had a triple heart bypass …..”. Hugh took a step backwards and looked at me anew. It seems that most people, 85% (?), become rather risk-averse, withdrawn from full-on activities, after major surgery. I had met a few of them in the Moulsecomb Leisure Centre on the east side of Brighton, where I went for a series of rehabilitation sessions after my bypass. “Hey! Take it easy; you’re sweating” said one of my fellow participants! He clearly was in that 85% category. There was no reason from a physical point of view to take it easy; as Jonathan Hyde my heart surgeon said: ‘good for 30 years’. So, it’s purely mental, the development of habits that restrict, that close one down, that make you live less than you’re physically capable of.

I asked a fellow yogi, Ian, his take on why we stop attempting something. “Fear!” was his immediate response and he promised to expand this idea when I asked: “Fear of what?”

Rather reflected what Marianne Williamson had written (See PC 205 First Steps): “Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. ….. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.”

Marianne suggests we fear our own power, our own innate ability to do something if we wish to. Certainly, the fear of failure is a possibility. We all know the apocryphal story of Thomas Edison who tried 99 times to make a light bulb filament burn brightly, before the 100th attempt that worked. Another American, George Washington, claimed ‘Ninety-nine percent of all failures come from people who have a habit of making excuses,’ so the failure is self-inflicted through lack of accountability rather than lack of ability.

How do you know you can’t do something unless you try it? Four years ago, I wrote a postcard titled ‘Why You Should Try Something Different …. Ceroc?’ (PC 192 from August 2020). Maybe we don’t try things, in this case Ceroc, aka Modern Jive, because we’re worried what others will think?

The late Ken Robinson’s life’s work (PC 195) was to encourage individuals to find the one element that makes them tick, makes them want to get up and grab life, to live more. Please, if you haven’t already, read his book ‘The Element’. Isn’t everyone capable of being a writer, a musician, businessperson, sportsperson, or doing any of the myriad of things humans do? Some will be more successful at something than others – so we need to find our own personal element or elements.  

Of course, someone might have been so traumatised by some experience that they carry that burden, that trauma with them every day, every week; the trauma acts as an anchor and prevents present and future action. The suggestion in Timeline Therapy is that we attach emotions of fear, sadness, anger and guilt to past events and that we wear these emotions in the present. There was a good line in some TV drama: “Whatever darkness you’re hiding, it’s written all over your face.” So, to ‘live more’ we need, through therapy, to detach these unwanted emotions from our past. Makes sense, I think; no one really wants to ‘live less’, surely?

I was talking to a clinical psychologist the other day; at some point in the conversation, I told him of the sudden death of a friend’s sister at the age of 59. Incidentally this tragedy had reminded me of Victoria, the sister of a good friend, who had died aged just 60 (See PC 22 Life is Uncertain).  It’s always interesting to hear people’s reactions, but I was shocked by his: “Illness and death stalk us always”. Maybe it’s true but it’s so morbid, would not be my immediate response to someone’s personal tragedy.

A recent Times article about lust and libido by Jean-Claude Chalmet, a psychotherapist, raised many interesting issues, but one particularly relevant for this postcard. Under a sub-title ‘….. but do look after yourself and your body’, he writes: “I notice among my clients, and particularly in men, that if they let themselves go physically, they also let go of their needs and desires. It’s often because there’s been a realisation in midlife that they haven’t lived, they’ve merely existed. They’ve had an unfulfilling career, a marriage that has become operational (sic). Now, learning to live looks arduous and disinterest becomes their armour because they think it’s too late. This bitterness and ‘beer belly’ combination kills libido in a couple.” The message is clear; stop existing, start living.

Ian again: “Is fear the biggest inhibitor or the biggest motivator? If something scares the living daylights out of you, if you’re brave enough to pursue it, it can give you the biggest reward and often the biggest opportunity to develop as a person.” There will always be uncertainty in life, whether it’s moving up to a new school, finding your feet in university, earning money and growing as a person, developing relationships, parenting, coping with the loss of loved ones, whatever, that’s a given.

And Ian reminded me that we are born with only two innate hard-wired fears designed for survival, the fear of falling and the fear of loud noise. These instinctive responses instantly trigger the fight-or-flight mechanism!

I will continue these themes in a future postcard.

Richard 3rd April 2026

Hove

http://www.postcardscribbles.co.uk

PC 484 Five Days in May (2)

~ postcardscribblesblog ~ Leave a comment

Continued …..

On Saturday 23rd April 1983 (St George’s Day) I took a call at home from the Ministry of Defence Duty Officer in London, asking about using SAM systems for the defence of the British contingent to the UN’s MNFIL in Beirut. Lebanon was in the grip of a nasty civil war, with an UN-imposed multinational force trying to bring about peace. Before midnight the following day I am on a C130 Hercules flying out of RAF Lyneham to Cyprus; I share the huge aircraft hold with an aircraft engine – I am the only passenger. You can read all about it in PC 183 Beirut June 2020; I was back in Bulford two days later!

I made two trips to Belize, to visit my soldiers and to facilitate some live missile firing off one of the uninhabited offshore cayes (local name for islands).

We flew out to the caye by helicopter, accompanied by a 81mm mortar section from the roulement infantry battalion, who provided the targets – a bunch of phosphorus hanging below a little parachute, normally used to illuminate the battlefield.

When not swotting away the mosquitoes, we took advantage of the crystal clear and warm water. The seabed was covered with large shells; I brought two home! On my first trip to Belize, I had gone down to the southern British military base in Toledo District; I think it was called Camp Riddeau. My troop sergeant had organised a night deep in the jungle, something I had never experienced. We made the A-frame supports for our hammocks, cooked some supper and listened to the insects and animals that make it their home. Night comes early in the jungle, and it was noisy, wet, extremely humid and hot. (Note 1)

I had some down-time during my time, accommodated in the RAF Officers Mess, and remember reading John Fowles’ Daniel Martin. Today, Wikipedia says “it follows the life of the eponymous protagonist, using both first and third person voices, whilst employing a variety of literary techniques such as multiple narratives and flashback.” I wished I’d had Wikipedia back in 1983. I struggled with the first third, almost gave up, then understood it, devoured the remaining two-thirds and started at the beginning again, to reread that incomprehensible first section!! John Fowles had written The Magus and of course The French Lieutenant’s Woman and remains one of my favourite authors.

In December 1982 E Troop soldiers who had taken part in the Falkland’s War were presented with their campaign medals by the Deputy Fortress Commander of Gibraltar. (See photograph) I returned to The Rock in 1984 with the whole battery (ie less the Belize troop) for some adventurous training and to take part in the Gibraltar Half Marathon. Flying into Gibraltar is always interesting. The airport lies on the north of the massive vertical rockface and in certain weather conditions it’s a very turbulent area. In my first visit in a RAF C130 we went around twice, succeeding on the third attempt with a very hard landing.

At the very top of the Rock with WO2 Black and Lt Richard Dare

After Belize, Beirut and Gibraltar, you might think that Manorbier, to the west of Tenby, the Brecon Beacons, both in South Wales, and Otterburn in the Northumberland National Park, were rather tame. But each in their own way added to one’s appreciation of the United Kingdom landscape. We had regular ‘live firing camps’ at Manorbier, staying in the Sennybridge training camp, used the wonderful Brecon Beacons for strenuous exercises and carried out some troop training up in Otterburn. It was here for five days in May 1984 that I had the largest component of Lloyds Company together during my two-and-a-half-year tour; Lieutenant Paul Goad was on a course and the Belize troop of 14 wasn’t there!

I always sought to bringing out the best of my soldiers, testing their ability where necessary, promoting them when they earned it, encouraging them to apply for external roles, even if it meant they were posted away. The commanding officer, Lieutenant Colonel Ian Forward, noted in my annual confidential report: “He never sought to hoard his assets, willing to share his carefully nurtured talent across the board.” And, of course, it was personally satisfying when soldiers grew and matured before my eyes.

But not everyone grows! When I took over my battery I rapidly sensed that one of my sergeants, let’s call him Sergeant Smith, had been promoted (Note 2) above his ability; he wasn’t happy and didn’t seem to enjoy his job. After a chat, I arranged a couple of training exercises where he had ample opportunity to show his capabilities. He failed miserably, so he was reduced back to Bombadier and was found another position in another unit, one more suited to his abilities. He wrote later saying how happy he was. We see it in civilian life, individuals ‘promoted’ into roles they’re not suited to, not able to fulfil. I much prefer round pegs in round holes!

At one of the weekly Commanding Officer’s conferences of 1983, it was suggested we should hold a Summer Ball in the Officers’ Mess. Feeling that the ball I had organised in Lippstadt in 1972 had been a success, I volunteered, formed a committee, doled out responsibilities and set about making it happen.

I decided that the theme should be ‘After The Theatre’, when one might have drifted around, finding different places to eat and maybe a nightclub or two to dance in. It was a great success, so much so that both the Commanding Officer and adjutant wrote letters in appreciation. The latter’s started:

And the men who made the two and a half years I had in command of 43 Air Defence Battery (Lloyd’s Company) RA fun and rewarding are here, in this photograph, my officers, Warrant Officers and senior non-commissioned officers outside the training wing at Sennybridge Camp in South Wales.

Richard 27th March 2026

Hove

www.postcardscribbles.co.uk

Note 1 My Stepfather, Philip Thomson-Walker, as a Captain in SOE during World War 2, spent months in the Malayan jungle in Force 136 fighting the Japanese.

Note 2 Normally on probation for six months, this man had been on probation for 15 months. No one had ‘grasped the nettle’!

PC 483 The Shipping Forecast

~ postcardscribblesblog ~ 2 Comments

Scanning the television guide, I noticed Channel 4 was broadcasting ‘Sailing The Shipping Forecast’ with the Reverend Richard Coles (Note 1). My interest was roused enough to watch the three episodes. The voice-over introduction by Coles went something like:

“Now it’s time for the shipping forecast; “……, Shannon SW 2 veering (Note 2) NW 3-5, occasional rain ….” For over 100 years sailors and fishermen have received daily life saving shipping forecasts. It’s now a national institution and its soothing tones have become a recognisable comfort to all. For me the shipping forecast is timeless, it’s almost like a prayer, comforting.”

It’s hard to imagine anyone who hasn’t heard of the UK ‘Shipping Forecast’, broadcast on BBC Radio 4 at 00:48, 05:34 and additionally on weekends at 17:54. But then if you live in the middle of the country, you’re more likely to be interested in the local weather than that affecting our coastal waters. Our weather is something we talk about endlessly …. but one of those aspects of life you can do nothing about. It is what it is, to use a common phrase.

I probably heard the UK’s Shipping Forecast for the first time in Cyprus in August 1968. As a Second Lieutenant, I was in charge of a small rear party, whose sole task was to ensure the Regimental training equipment was dispatched back to the UK from RAF Akrotiri, following three weeks’ regimental training on the island. One evening I happened to hear the British Forces Broadcasting Service broadcast the 00:48 Shipping Forecast.

I learned later that the seas around the UK are divided into 31 areas, and the forecast follows a set format. It starts in Viking, moves through those sea areas covering The North Sea, down to the English Channel (Thames, Dover, Wight ….), out into the eastern Atlantic (Biscay, Fitzroy (Note 3), Sole,) then the seas around Ireland before finishing just short of Iceland.

Gale warnings precede the main forecast which follows a strict 350-word count. An example might be “There are warnings of gales in Dover and Wight. The general synopsis at 0400. Low 995 (barometric pressure in millibars) Biscay moving slowly NE and filling. The area forecasts for the next 24 hours: Viking, Forties, Cromarty, SW 3-4 (as in the Beaufort scale in knots) locally 5, good (a measure of visibility eg ‘good’ is greater than 5nm).” Actual weather reports from coastal stations follow. Winds circle areas of low pressure in an anticlockwise direction, around a high in a clockwise direction.

My crew on St BIII in Trouville, before our Arromanches experience!

As soon as I started sailing in 1968, it became essential to understand the weather forecast. The Shipping Forecast was written down with a chinagraph onto a wipeable talc and hung up in the skipper’s/navigator’s area of the cabin. Whether it was to warn us of gales offshore racing, see ‘PC 249 Knockdown’, or forecast when the northeasterly gale might abate and we could leave Trouville see ‘PCs 209 & 211 Off Arromanches’. (see crew photograph above)

You can get alarmed when the forecasts are for gales (Force 8) or severe gales (Force 9), and just as alarmed when the visibility is ‘less than 500m’. Sailing north from the Channel Islands and suddenly encountering a vast container ship, about 300m away and steaming across your track, gets the adrenaline flowing.    

Freshwater Bay on the SW corner of the Isle of Wight

I mentioned Richard Coles’s series. He covered only four particular sea areas; firstly ‘Wight’ and visited the international sailing centre of Cowes on the Isle of Wight. The Isle of Wight is England’s largest island. (see PC 440 The Isle of Wight May 2025).

The episode about sea area ‘Lundy’ featured South Wales’ Gower Peninsula and Lundy Island. I had been lucky enough to visit Lundy when a Watch Officer on the cadet training ship Malcolm Miller.

Her sister ship the Sir Winston Churchill also anchored in the lee of the island. Coles also visited ‘Thames’ and went out to the ex-pirate station Radio Caroline, anchored outside the three-mile limit.

The Faeroes

Coles had started at ‘Faeroes’, a dramatic island group midway between the north of Scotland and Iceland. Thanks to Coles, I now know what it looks likes, and want to go!

And if you’re a landlubber, then read Charlie Connelly’s book ‘Attention All Shipping’ – ‘a journey round the Shipping Forecast’. Brilliant.

For trivia, Stephanie Waring and her sister from Tyneside named their three children Shannon, Bailey and Tyne as their husbands both work at sea. And the poet AC Bevan wrote an entire collection of poetry inspired by The Shipping Forecast. He says the forecast is like a liturgy. “there’s something religious about it, the names suggest emptiness, but the way in which they are read out is very comforting. It’s something very spiritual.”

So, The Shipping Forecast, ingrained in my soul:

‘There are warnings of gales in Portland and Plymouth. The general synopsis at ……’

Richard 20th March 2026

Hove

www.postcardscribbles.co.uk

PS The full list is Viking, North Utsire, South Utsire, Forties, Cromarty, Forth, Tyne, Dogger, Fisher, Fisher, German Bight, Humber, Thames, Dover, Wight, Portland, Plymouth, Biscay, Fitzroy (Note 3), Sole, Lundy, Fastnet, Irish Sea, Shannon, Rockall, Malin, Hebrides, Bailey, Fair Isle, Faeroes and Southeast Iceland.

Note 1 Richard Coles first rose to fame in the 1980s as a multi-instrumentalist in the pop duo The Communards. He then studied theology, was ordained as a priest and serve as a vicar for over a decade. In 2022 he retired, reinventing himself as a prolific broadcaster and author.

Note 2 The term ‘veer’ means, in meteorological terminology, that the direction of the wind shifts in a clockwise direction. If it’s ‘backing’, it’s in an anticlockwise direction.  

Note 3 The UK sea area Finisterre, to the west of Biscay and the French coast, at 90,000 square miles was a much larger area than the Spanish sea area of the same name. Spain complained to the United Nations World Meteorological Organisation there could be confusion and the UK was ordered to change the name. Vice Admiral Robert Fitzroy (1805 – 1865) was considered the founding father of the UK’s Meteorological Office, so ‘Finisterre’ became ‘Fitzroy’ in February 2002. Somehow the original lilt of the repetition of the names changed without Finisterre! Fitzroy spent his personal savings on designing better ways to make weather information more widely available. In failing health and suffering from depression and financial concerns, he committed suicide by cutting his throat on 30 April 1865.

PC 482 Five Days in May (1)

~ postcardscribblesblog ~ 2 Comments

As a regular Army Officer in the Royal Artillery, I always imagined the command of a battery, a sub-unit of some 120 personnel, would be one of the defining moments of my career. And having spent fifteen years of my commissioned service up to that point in the Field Branch of the artillery, that is guns and howitzers so surface-to-surface, I looked forward to commanding a field battery. Whilst in a staff job in the MOD Procurement Executive, I indicated my preference to the postings branch, known as AG6.

So, it was a little bit of a surprise to find myself posted to be Battery Commander of 43 AD (ie Air Defence) Battery (Lloyd’s Company) Royal Artillery (Note 1) which was stationed in Bulford, north of Salisbury in Wiltshire and equipped with surface-to-air missiles; “Theirs not to make reply, theirs not to reason why, theirs but to do …..!!” Incidentally, the letter ‘B’ seems to feature a lot so I will collate my experiences accordingly. (See PC 414 ‘It’s All About B’ November 2024)

The Battery was part of 32 (GW) Regiment Royal Artillery (Note 2), the Regiment’s other components being two batteries equipped with an anti-tank missile system called Swingfire, and one with the 105mm Light Gun. The gun battery joined five other international batteries that supported the Allied Command Europe Mobile Force (Land) (AMF(L)) and our regimental headquarters formed that force’s Artillery Headquarters.

A Blowpipe operator during the Falklands conflict

The battery was equipped with a shoulder-launched surface-to-air missile system known as Blowpipe. It was a first generation and quite rudimentary. The operator had to keep his sight graticule not only on the fast-moving target but also on his missile. It was extremely difficult to use, although the manufacturers trumpeted the fact that it would not be confused by any flares that the plane might have initiated. Operators needed to be very fit as it was cumbersome and heavy.

The Falkland Islands east of the coast of South America

For some, May 1982 is a date etched in their memory, as it was the middle of the conflict with Argentina after their invasion of the Falkland Islands, which had begun on 2nd April and lasted ten weeks. Two troops from the battery had been deployed with the combined forces to retake the islands. Given Blowpipe was a first-generation SAM system, it was remarkable that four possibly five Argentinian aircraft were shot down. In additional to the Falklands commitment, the battery had three detachments in Belize and one troop on leave, and it was only the sick, lame and lazy left when I arrived to assume command!

Belize in Central America

I had imagined I would see my whole battery together during my tenure as its commanding officer, but with those personnel on a six-month deployment to Belize, that was never going to happen. Situated south of the Yucatan Peninsula in Central America, Belize borders Mexico in the north and Guatemala to the west and south; its Caribbean coastline stretches for some 280kms. An independent sovereign nation since September 1981 and member of the British Commonwealth, Britain maintained a mixed Royal Air Force and Army group to counter territorial threats from neighbouring Guatemala. (Note 3)

The aftermath of the successful Falklands campaign caused ripples through government department. I suspect the old files – ‘What If …..?’ got dusted off. One ‘What if ….’ centred around continuing agitation by some sections of hard-line politicians in Spain about the status of Gibraltar. Ceded by the Spanish after the War of the Spanish Succession in 1713 as part of the Treaty of Utrecht, its British Overseas Territory status now seemed anachronistic. Right wing politicians dreamed of simply overrunning it and claiming it as Spanish.  

In October 1982, The Rock had its defences strengthened with another Royal Navy ship and three RAF fighter jets. I was tasked to recce The Rock for the possible deployment of a troop of Blowpipe, so flew out there for a couple of days.

The Rock of Gibraltar at the northern entrance to the Mediterranean Sea

I stayed in the RAF Officers’ Mess; someone endlessly played Rod Stewart’s ‘I Don’t Want to talk About it’ and my Gibraltar memories will be forever triggered by hearing it! On my return I wrote up my operational reconnaissance report, which resulted in a troop going to Gibraltar on a three-month rotation. With one troop in The Falklands, a large section in Belize and now one in Gibraltar, it was not an easy command, but six months later the Gibraltar Regiment’ Air Defence Troop was re-equipped with Blowpipe, so those gunners came home.

Bulford, north of Salisbury, was home to Wing Barracks, some 68 miles from my house in Fleet, Hampshire.

Wing Barracks Bulford

Sometimes I drove to work in my Honda Accord, a wonderful example of Japanese engineering. I had bought it in 1980, loved it, but it disintegrated before my eyes in a ball of rust after 6 years. It had a very appropriate number plate – ‘SAM 43 S’ (Surface-to-Air Missile (SAM) and 43, the number of the battery I commanded.

For my second year I bought a very old VW Beetle for £199 to trundle to and from work; rust holes in the body work provided some air conditioning, although those in the floor plan meant wet feet when it rained!

I rounded off 1983’s memorable experiences with a voyage on another ‘B’, this St Barbara III, a Nicolson 43 and then flagship of the Royal Artillery Yacht Club. As part of its 50th Anniversary, St B III was being sailed around the British Isles; as a skipper, I drew the leg from Liverpool to Oban on the west coast of Scotland. My ‘sailing log’ records we sailed 215 miles, visited the Isle of Man and cruised up through the Western Isles of Scotland before arriving in Oban.

To be continued …..

Richard 13th March 2026

Hove

www.postcardscribbles.co.uk

Note 1 Captain William Lloyd formed the company in 1808 and on 16th June 1815 took part in the Battle of Waterloo, particularly in the engagements at Quartre Bras and Hougoumont. Lloyd died of wounds ten days later. The Battery shield features the Waterloo eagle.

Note 2 GW stands for Guided Weapons; in this case, owing to the odd collection of equipment, others referred to it as ‘Guess What’.

Note 3 This was withdrawn in 1994  

PC 481 Hope in The Hope

~ postcardscribblesblog ~ Leave a comment

Hadn’t said farewell to Mo for too long before Sami poked his head around the door, saw me and made his way over to my table.

“Do you want another coffee, Richard? Double espresso?”

“Hey Sami! Good to see you: yes please!”

Sami’s not one to engage in too much small talk, wanting instead to explore his opinions and ideas, as well as keeping me abreast of the latest developments of the continuing saga of the Post Office scandal, of which he was a real victim. He’s personally got over it, taken an acceptable offer of compensation, and is rebuilding his life with his new partner Lisa. (See PC 335 ‘Lisa Wallace – My story’ May 2023 (Ed: This is interesting!))

“You saw that Betty Brown, the 92-year-old former subpostmistress from County Durham, was appointed an OBE in last December’s New Year Honours list? It took her twenty-two years to secure justice for herself and her late husband; lives destroyed!

The scandal’s no longer headline news but everyone’s eagerly awaiting the outcome of the police investigation to see who will be charged.”

“You think that will ever happen? These things have a habit of festering for so long, with prevarication and obscuration, that many on both sides will have died and someone will say: ‘What’s the point?’. It’s like the Infected Blood Scandal (see PC 392 Hope Continues (June 2024) and PC 420 Contentious Issues in the UK for 2025 (January 2025).)”  

“You’re becoming cynical as you get older Richard! Incidentally not sure what’s your view but we seem to have got our knickers in a twist when it comes to a person’s background, heritage and ancestry. Being curious, I am often asking new people I meet what they do and, frankly, if they are a person of colour as I am, where they’re from.” (Note 1)

“Do you remember about three years there was a hoo-hah at some Buckingham Palace reception when Lady Susan Someone asked a delegate, Charity founder Ngozi Fulami, where she was from, and not happy with the answer “I was born in the UK”, asked: “No! Where are you really from?””

“What’s the issue? I met a lovely couple of junior doctors many years ago, both the result of mixed marriages, and asked the chap, who looked like me, Eurasian, where he was from. “Nottingham!” and I so nearly asked, for no other reason than curiosity: “No! Where were you from originally?” but never did!

“A Gunner friend is in the process of penning his autobiography, not for public consumption but for his grandchildren. He let me read a couple of drafts of some parts and I know his intended audience will be fascinated. He thought I was doing the same, sort-of, writing of my life’s experiences in my weekly postcards. That hadn’t occurred to me, that I was writing my own autobiography, albeit in instalments and interspersed with contemporary observations and thoughts. Hey Ho!”

“Your weekly postcards Richard ….. I enjoy most of them ……..”

“Someone the other day told me they don’t have time which, given that they are a mere 5-minute read, is a sad reflection of modern life. I get more ‘likes’ and comments for some than others. The one that keeps surfacing is PC 461 “Bumped into Sami!” from October 2025 ……”

“Ha! I remember, we had a coffee in Gail’s and chewed the fat upstairs, mainly about weight-loss drugs as a way of tackling obesity. Sorry for the unintended pun! I imagine you saw that BBC report that GP Surgeries in England are to be paid an average of £3000 a year in bonuses to prescribe weight loss drugs?? (Note 2) Seriously not the way to go; get a bonus for everyone who signs up to some exercise programme!! But what else to you do to keep the brain from going to mush, apart from your beloved hot yoga?”

“Mmm! I do the daily Sudoku puzzles in The Times and occasionally paint something. Look (reaching for my iPad) ….. the composition on the right for Amber House’s communal hall is new, linked to another from some years ago by three little squares.

and by our internal apartment door, four little canvases …..

“I like both, a lot!”

Two other observations, Sami. Firstly, we had to go to the cremation of a dear friend the other day. She’d chosen some songs by Neil Diamond, Rod Stewart and Tina Turner, so the tone was as light-hearted as these things can be.  The service was conducted by Aileen Smart, who needed some reading glasses to read the tribute. The frames themselves were enormous, obviously quite heavy and they gradually slipped down her nose. As everyone would, she simply pushed them back up the bridge, only for gravity to impose itself once again and the whole action was repeated. Once or twice …… but I became mesmerised as her habit continued and my attention drifted from what she was saying!

The other concerned our yoga studio, where we had a new student the other week. If I can, I try to pass on a couple of bits of advice before they start: breathe through your nose, not your mouth and don’t drink water during class if you can help it. His reply to the latter was: “Ramadan started yesterday evening (17th February) and I can’t drink until sunset, so won’t be a problem.” This conversation was on the first day of Lent in the Christian calendar (18th February this year) so then I got into a discussion with myself about how it was apposite that devout Christians would be foregoing goodies for 40 days, at the same time as Muslims would be fasting for 28. My ignorance about the finer details of Islam prompted a Google search. I knew the dates of Ramadan progressed earlier each year but didn’t know by how much – it’s 11 days. Ramadan is the 9th month of the Islamic calendar, which is itself based on the cycles of the moon.

“Well! Well! Well! Richard. Thank you!”

Richard 6th March 2026

Hove

www.postcardscribbles.co.uk

Note 1 Sami’s mother was English and father Indian, so he’s classified as Eurasian.

Note 2 Of course very overweight people will eventually cost the NHS a great deal of money, so I assume this is the reason for encouraging them to take a weight-loss drug.

PC 480 More Hope News

~ postcardscribblesblog ~ Leave a comment

Mo and I sit down with our individual coffees for a catch up; it’s been a while and I feel sure there’s much to chat about.

“You know my mother’s in Southwick, Richard, in one of those retirement places which offers everything those of a certain age need, without taking away anyone’s individuality?

“Yes; She’s got her own flat, hasn’t she? Am I right, she has become obsessed with the Assisted Dying Bill?”

“I suppose it’s bound to be on everyone’s lips, with the worriers wondering whether their offspring will use it to hasten their departure and those more sanguine thinking it’s needed for those with life-limiting conditions. The ‘Terminally Ill Adults (End of Life) Bill’, as it’s officially called, is currently at the Committee stage in the House of Lords. (See PS) But we had a bit of a scare last month; her doctor found she’d developed an infection that had created more fluid than normal around her heart. It’s called Pericardial Effusion and the fluid squeezes the heart muscle, so it needs to be drained, slowly.”

“All good now?”

“Yes. Just needs to take some antibiotics for a couple of weeks to clear the infection.”

“Hearts seem to be on everyone’s lips. You’ll remember before Christmas, a yoga chum’s sister, aged 59, had gone to bed early and her husband had found her dead before midnight? Well, our masseuse had a very good friend who had a fatal heart attack last month at 62, then last week her nephew had a heart attack, went into a coma and was allowed to die; he was 39! Now news of your mother, although pleased her heart issue was easily dealt with.”

“God, that sounds awful. I guess the message is, if in doubt about any ache or pain around your heart, go and get it checked – NOW! And how’s your daughter, Richard?”

“Half term last week and I suspect that was a real relief; a hard first half. In addition to her full-on teaching role and head of year, personally she’d become somewhat deficient in iron, a vital chemical for our bodies to function at 100%. She had to have two iron infusions, a fortnight apart ….. and suffered a rather swollen tongue for a few hours afterwards. A little investigation says this is a common reaction.”

“If it had been me, I would have panicked!!”

“For me, it brought back a memory from a different era when, during the long summer holidays, my brother and I found ourselves playing cricket near home in Balcombe. My own cricket experience was from a preparatory school when, despite being hopeless at either batting, bowling or fielding, so every aspect of the game (!) I realised the team needed someone to keep score. And there was the added attraction of the after-match cream teas!

Two scratch teams came together using the pitch of a local school. Apart from the fact it was a glorious summer’s day, I remember little of the cricket. But during the tea, I hadn’t realised a bee had landed on the cream éclair I was about to stuff into my mouth. The last action of its short life was to sting my tongue. One’s body reacts to certain chemicals quickly and my tongue rapidly grew in size! Someone recognised this as a Medical Emergency and called an ambulance. I obviously survived …… but the memory of that jab of its barbed stinger into my tongue remains to this day.” 

“You wrote in your last postcard about The Hope Café (PC 475 New Year in The Hope 23 January) that you were curious the Waitrose produce-picker had chosen Pomegranate seeds as a substitute for an order of Red Currents. I read that the recent storms in Southern Europe and North Africa have created a potential dearth in the UK of soft fruit like raspberries (Note 1), strawberries, blackberries, and blue berries. We have got used to being able to buy them all the year around, haven’t we – even if we accept that the blueberries in winter come from Peru!”

“Whenever I hear about berries I remember the delightful story about the colour of the mulberry.”

“The colour of the mulberry?”

“I wrote about it in PC 242 ‘What is This Thing Called Love? (1)’ (August 2021). In summary Thisbe has found her lover Pyramus’ body next to a white Mulberry bush, covered in his blood. Her heart broken, Thisbe kills herself with the same sword that Pyramus had used. The gods are so moved that the colour of the Mulberry fruit is forever changed to blood red!”

“Ah! That’s such a nice story! I think, like you Richard, I generally have the radio station Classic FM murmuring on in the background at home. A commercial station, its revenue comes from advertising. Having read PC 478 Eating Habits (13 February 2026) I have become a little more aware of what I am eating! Recently Classic FM was broadcasting an advertisement for Nestle’s Shredded Wheat.

 The voiceover says: “I’ve been asked to read out the ingredients.” Of course, these days we are led to expect lots of ‘E’ numbers, flavourings and colourings, so it is a pleasant surprise when she continues: “Whole grain wheat.” Then there’s a pause and she comes on again: “That’s it, whole grain wheat. Nothing else.”

And that’s what the box shows ……. plus the disclaimer about nuts (!), although it this case Peanuts seem to be in a category of their own (?)”

“You mentioning Classic FM reminds me! A couple of weeks ago I was scanning The Times at breakfast. Having learned to play the trumpet at school I was attracted to the obituary of John Wallace CBE, whose career as a trumpeter took him all over the world with his renowned brass group The Wallace Collection, which he’d formed in 1986. In a lovely twist, as I was reading of his career, Classic FM was broadcasting Haydn’s famous Trumpet Concerto in E flat, the Andante movement of which I played for my audition for the National Youth Orchestra. (See PPS)”

“Need to rush, Richard. Lovely to chat ….. see yer!”

Richard 27th February 2026

Hove

www.postcardscribbles.co.uk

PS Yesterday the Government of Jersey passed its own ‘Assisted Dying Bill’ and that will need Royal Assent; probable within 18 months. The Isle of Man’s bill is still awaiting Royal Assent. It’s likely that England & Wales’s own Assisted Dying Bill will fail due to lack of time. It is a Private Member’s Bill so does not have the Government’s support.

PPS Wasn’t successful! I could play something I had practised but the sight-reading test was a nightmare.

Note 1 To make the point, in this morning’s Waitrose online order, Raspberries have been substituted by …… Strawberries!!

PC 479 Memories of Regimental Service (3)

~ postcardscribblesblog ~ 1 Comment

Memories aren’t necessarily concentrated – my mind sees one, remembers other, hears a third, from the general collective memory of ‘my time in Germany’. We generalise our memories to make them manageable. For instance: I remember the funeral of Major Dick Jones, killed in a car accident whilst on exercise, and having to practise carrying his coffin with a weighted filing cabinet; the restaurant in the Lippstadt town square where the Pfeffersteak was to die for;

spending a long weekend at the regimental Ski Hut down in Southern Germany; my left-hand-drive blue Volkswagen Variant; taking the train to Turin to collect a new Lancia Fulvia from the factory; formal mess dinners once a month,

all booted and spurred – the meal followed by mess rugby; what was known as ‘the porcelain telephone’ in the gentleman’s in the Officers’ Mess in Lippstadt, essentially somewhere to vomit when you have drunk too much (!); pretending to be a private soldier and collecting the late Richard Clarke, a newly-joined officer at that time, at RAF Gutersloh in a little Ferret Scout Car;

Not a lot of room inside one of these!

studying for academic exams for entry to the Army Staff College, a prerequisite to promotion beyond the rank of Major; learning that the wives of my soldiers could also be charged with offences under Military Law – a Sergeant’s wife lost her temper, smashed a bottle over someone’s head (nice huh!) and ended up in a Military Court; listening to the first ever moon walk – ‘One small step for man, one giant leap for mankind’ – by Neil Armstrong on 20th July 1969, on a small battery-powered radio in a tent in Trauen Camp; sitting for the annual Regimental Officers’ photograph, which often included a dog or two – this one of 27 Medium Regiment Royal Artillery in Lippstadt in 1972;

travelling to the German North Sea island of Sylt one Easter for a long weekend. Accessible by a man-made causeway …

….. an up-market place for Germans to be seen, to promenade, to eat cake; another memory is easy – the extension cable I used in my Officers’ Mess accommodation, to take power to a stereo system, is still in use (see PC 108 ‘I’m Long and Black’ October 2017): attending a ‘Colloquial German’ course in Mülheim, near Düsseldorf, and embarrassingly translating a message to the effect there was a tank (hiding) behind the large farmer – confusing bauer (farmer) for scheune (barn).

Travel to East Germany was almost impossible, although one could drive or fly to Berlin with the correct paperwork. In the British sector of West Germany, troops occasionally patrolled the border with the East, more for its Public Relations value than any suggestion it was a deterrent! I undertook one such week’s fascinating patrol with sixteen of my gunners and am glad I did. We stayed in farmers’ barns, although a young Guard’s Second Lieutenant, who was attached to us, and I shared a room in the main house. I remember our first morning; out of nowhere, in his rather plummy voice: ‘Drat! He didn’t pack my razor!’ ‘What’s the problem, Brian/Andrew/Toby/etc?’ ‘My man (ie batman) forgot my razor!’ I lent him a spare and hope he learned a little lesson; if you want to guarantee something, do it yourself!

I have mentioned that 39 Medium Regiment spent two Christmases (1972 and 1975) on operations in Northern Ireland (see appropriate postcards). Prior to my second tour, the commanding officer, Mike Hudson, decided we should get used to working well into the night, so shifted our working day from 0800 – 1630 to 1230 – 2200. Previously, we just accepted that training went on into the evening. Now we could have a nice relaxing morning and the ‘working day’ never went beyond 2300.

Twice in my Army career I organised an Officers’ Mess Summer Ball, the second time in Bulford north of Salisbury, the first time in the Lippstadt Officers’ Mess. In the latter I was assisted by Anna Clements, the wife of the resident dentist John. I saw a lot of both of them and their three young boys, but it was Anna whose artistic ability gelled with mine in designing the decorations. 

Memories of food outside the Officers Mess are of the wonderful German sausages and their extravagant cakes. Their little ‘Schnell Imbis’ (‘Fast Snack’ (Obviously!)) caravans were everywhere in die Parkplätze and the ‘Currywurst mit pommes frit’, served on a white cardboard tray with a little wooden two-pronged fork, became the easy answer to hunger pangs. Writing this, another memory surfaced! On big exercises in Germany, we tended to operate on Greenwich Mean Time, the time zone adopted by the Royal Air Force. In the summer months that meant we were two hours behind the locals. At the end of one gruelling day, the lieutenant colonel of the armoured regiment I was attached to suggested we had a snack in the local pub – the kitchen of which to our dismay had already closed!

Living on continental Europe had its advantages from a travel point of view. In 1976, a conversation over lunch in England led to an offer; ‘come out to Palau, Sardinia and help Merry Andrews, the old friend of a friend, crew his yacht’. Two weeks on and off sailing, ‘fed, watered and accommodated for free’; I jumped at the chance. Late one Friday afternoon, with some sandwiches for supper, I set off in my little Lancia Fulvia for Civitavecchia, the port city to the west of Rome, from where I could catch a ferry to Olbia on Sardinia.

It’s just under 1500kms; Google Maps today tells me it would take around 18 hours. I drove until I felt the need to sleep, pulled into a layby, dropped the seat down, covered myself with a sleeping bag and slept. I reached Civitavecchia in time to book for the 2300 sailing; my car was hoisted onto the ferry deck by crane and I headed off in search of the bar. Two Gin & Tonics went down in quick succession! It was a very good fortnight.

And finally, our world was a diet of Alphabet soup. For example:

RA JDSC 2IC CO BC BAOR FOO TEWT NAAFI CPX GPO ADC AFV ADJ OP AG6 NSI SGT BDR GNR FP FUP GCM

Richard 20th February 2026

Hove

www.postcardscribbles.co.uk

PS Oh! And I managed to find time to race from Tenerife to Bermuda in a 55ft ketch:

see PC 161 The Atlantic 1976 (Sep 2019)

PC 478 Eating Habits

~ postcardscribblesblog ~ Leave a comment

I have to assume that none of my readers have actually ever been starving, although they may have screamed something to that effect at some moment. Starving is a horrible situation to be in and for some parts of the world starvation stalks people too readily. You may remember Stalin confiscated Ukraine’s wheat harvest in 1932; in the year that followed some 3.9 million, 13% of the population, starved to death. (See PC 273 ‘Stories to Tell’ March 2022)

Extreme starvation in Ukraine in 1932

Malnutrition follows and, unless there’s a slow reintroduction to energy-giving food, the physical effects become irreversible. That is life limiting.

In developed countries we seem to get into fixed routines when it comes to eating. Breakfast starts the day, something in the middle, called lunch in the southern half of England but often ‘dinner’ in the North, then supper/tea/dinner after you’ve stopped working. Other opportunities to put food in your mouth might be mid-morning, traditionally called ‘elevenses’ in Britain or simply ‘coffee’. In my Army service, in barracks most things stopped for ‘coffee’; down to the various messes or canteen, a quick peruse of the morning papers, a chance to talk to others not in your sub-unit, and then back to work. Afternoon tea for the middle and upper classes would have been tea, sandwiches and maybe a slice of cook’s latest cake; for the workers it was their main meal of the day. Who can forget Shirley Valentine’s husband Joe, in the film of the same name, arriving back from work, expecting steak for his tea, only to find that she’s fed it to a friend’s Bloodhound; ‘But it’s Tuesday. I always have steak on Tuesday!’  

Fortunately you have a choice, to find some food and put it into your mouth …. and no one is forced-fed!

When I started my executive coaching career, I became a member of The Institute of Directors on Pall Mall in central London, so I could use the meeting rooms to engage with my clients. The huge oil paintings of the great and the good of the C19th that hung around the large rooms communicated a sense of ‘anything is possible’; that’s how I saw them, although I never asked a client their take! Sometimes for lunch I had a sandwich at my table, but more often-than-not I walked across Pall Mall and up the Royal Opera Arcade to an Italian-run Deli.

The arcade itself had a curious mix of tenants; today it lists an art gallery, a ‘Synergy Chinese Medical Centre’, a stationers and bookshop, a diamond merchant and the back door to the New Zealand High Commission, as well as the sandwich centre. This was a busy place at lunchtime, and the energised staff recognised their regulars with a big smile and wave: “The usual?” It was gloriously theatrical! Then my ‘usual’ was slices of rare roast beef in a granary bap with some horseradish sauce and masses of fresh black pepper; I can taste it now ….. to die for!

Another London lunchtime favourite was egg mayonnaise in a brown bap with masses of black pepper, and an apple, when I worked for Short Brothers in Glen House in Victoria. The usual? We do get into habits about food, don’t we.

My body screams ‘sugar please’ when I come back from hot yoga, where I’ve lost over a litre of sweat ….. so need liquid and sugar. I got into the habit of having a large bowl of cornflakes, with granulated sugar, full fat milk and an apple or banana; then some Cadbury’s Whole Nut! Over the months my weight gradually increased; not surprising! Then last year I got quite severe food poisoning on our TAP flight from Rio de Janeiro, took ten days to recover completely, lost weight and recognised here was an opportunity to change my habits. So now my ‘usual’ is a salad of crayfish tails, anchovies, tomatoes and cucumber.

A yoga chum passed me Chris van Tulleken’s paperback ‘Ultra-Processed People – Why Do We All Eat Stuff That Isn’t Food …. And Why Can’t We stop?’, as he thought I might like to read it. He had absorbed its contents lying in his evening bath and the back cover had clearly had alternating periods of being wet and drying out. In some strange way it made me want to read it more!

If you think van Tulleken’s name’s familiar, it’s probably because his ideas were popular with the late Michael Mosely, whose television series about food, particularly about intermittent fasting, low-carbohydrate and the ketogenic diets, made him a household name. 

In 2017 British consumers spent just 8% of their household budget on food; this compares with only 6% in the USA, but 11-14% in Germany, Norway, France and Italy for example. Research by the Food Foundation shows that the poorest 50% of households would need to spend almost 30% of their disposable income if they wanted to eat a diet that adheres to national ‘healthy eating guidelines’; the poorest 10% would need to spend 75%. UPF is almost universally cheaper, quicker and supposedly just as nutritious than foods and meals that need home preparation. For some it’s a no brainer.

I haven’t read more than a third of the book yet, but already like the statement: “Fish oil is bad for you; oily fish is good for you.”, although I accept that for some, ‘cod liver oil tablets’, for instance, might be more available than a couple of mackerel fillets. Van Tulleken uses Palm Oil to illustrate his point: “When freshly pressed, it’s an almost luminous, crimson, highly aromatic, spicy and flavourful, full of antioxidants like palm tocotrienol.”

Not sure whether you’re a fan of Nutella but this spread uses oil, and that can’t be crimson and spicy! So, the palm oil is refined by heating, has phosphoric acid added to remove gums and waxes, is neutralised by caustic soda, bleached with bentonite clay (!) and finally deodorised using high-pressure steam. The process is known as RBD – refined, bleached and deodorised. And it’s this process which is used to make soybean, palm, canola (rapeseed) and sunflower oils.

I wonder what other nuggets I will uncover as I read more of the book. It might make me question further: “The usual?”

Richard 13th February 2026

Hove

http://www.postcardscribbles.co.uk

PC 477 Norway

~ postcardscribblesblog ~ Leave a comment

Everyone seems to be going to Norway this year. Jon & Sally went to Lapland around the New Year, Ian, one of our yoga chums, went with his partner Mike last week to Bergen for a few days and David & Sally are exploring the fjords in the southwest when it’s warmer later in the year. I realised I already have some lovely memories of this fantastic Scandinavian country and I actually know a real Norwegian, Anders Schonberg, who currently lives in Cascais, Portugal and, with his wife Chloe, runs the AI company Plansom (www.plansom.com). (See PS)

Geographically, Norway is a northern European country of mountains, glaciers and deep coastal fjords. At around 100,000kms, its coastline is the second longest in the world, although this includes their 50,000 islands; the mainland coastline is 2,650kms. Its major land border is with Sweden, but it also borders Finland and Russia. A constitutional monarchy (Note 1), it currently has a population of 5.6 million (8% that of the UK) and enormous wealth due to its oil and gas industry. The country has the largest sovereign wealth fund in the world, valued last year at $1.4 trillion.  

Every year, in recognition of the UK’s support for Norway during WW2, Norway donates a huge Christmas tree that’s erected in Trafalgar Square. Part of that support was the development of tactics to take the war back to Occupied Europe. Operation Claymore, a British/Norwegian commando raid on the Lofoten Islands in March 1941, was the first of 12 commando raids directed against the Germans in Norway. One of the instructors at RMA Sandhurst when I was there was a Colonel Dennis O’Flaherty who, so the story went, had lost an eye during this raid; his eyepatch gave him a piratical look. We cadets didn’t get close enough to determine whether it was true!

In August 1974 I sailed a 42ft yacht from the north coast of Germany to Oslo (see PC 229 ‘Kiel to Oslo’ May 2022). We stopped overnight at Horten on the west of the fjord to recharge the yacht’s batteries.

It was my first time in Oslo and thought it a delightful city, if not a little pricey. I’ve inserted a stock photograph of the grand Oslo fjord, one of the highlights of this 1000 kms trip, as I was using a cinecamera and have no ‘still’ photographs.

In 1976, after 4 years at Regimental duty in Germany, I was posted to UKLF HQ in Salisbury, to a ‘Staff Captain’s role. At the time the headquarters had a total of some 190 officers (this may be not be too accurate!) – a ‘gathering of generals’, a ‘clutch of colonels’, ‘masses of majors’ and about three captains; we felt quite special! I was to be responsible for some of the quartermaster aspects of the UK’s Ace Mobile Force (Land) (AMF(L) & Amphibious Forces– fortunately I didn’t need to complete the Royal Marine Commando course. The AMF(L) was, and probably still is, NATO’s fast reaction force, operating on its flanks.

A couple of months before I joined on 1st January 1977, I had flown from Germany to Oslo, then on to Bergen and caught the train up to Voss, to meet the then current holder of the role, a Major Colin Constable. We stayed in the Fleischer’s hotel where I was introduced to the Norwegian breakfast buffet. If you liked fish or cheese, you would not go hungry. (Note 2) In Voss, some 100kms inland from Bergen, one of my responsibilities would be to find and book accommodation for troops undergoing ‘Winter Warfare Training’.

After a couple of days, we flew back to the UK on a RAF C130 Hercules. On Colin’s advice, I bought some enormous prawns from the fish market in Bergen and put them far up in the tail of the aeroplane, where they froze during the flight to RAF Lyneham.   

In April 1977 the AMF(L) held a three-day CPX (Command Post Exercise – no troops) in Bodø, a coastal city just north of the Arctic Circle. It’s always interesting to work with other NATO nationalities, but my memories are of little sun and some wonderful fish!

Captain John Odell, Major Jeff Pink and Norwegian Reserve Colonel Knut Strøm

The next month Major Jeff Pink, Captain John Odel and I joined Norwegian Reserve Colonel Knut Strøm in Voss and spent a week negotiating and securing the accommodation for the 1978 Winter Warfare Training.

Leaving The Army in 1985, I joined Short Brothers’ London Office and was given Scandinavia as my Area of Responsibility, pitching the company’s Javelin SAM system. Sweden made a competing one, so I visited Finland, Denmark and Norway to discuss possibilities. Our local Norwegian agent, an anglophile called Fleming Devor, bought himself a Mark 10 Jaguar to improve his image! We came close to achieving a sale in Denmark, but Norway stayed with its Swedish systems.

And then, in February 2004. I went in search of the Northern Lights, flying to Oslo and north to Tromsø, to join the M/S Polarlys.

The Norwegian company Hurtigruten run these ships rather like coastal buses; people got on and off whenever we stopped on our way to Bergen.

Sadly, the Northern Lights only made a mediocre appearance during our three-day trip and my memory is of cold, of the black & white coastal landscape and of a Force 10 storm as we left the more sheltered inshore waters and headed south towards Bergen.

The captain came around at breakfast asking how we had slept; ‘hanging on in our bunks, Captain’ was the general response – from those of us brave enough to eat anything.

Richard 6th February 2026

Hove

www.postcardscribbles.co.uk

PS We call someone from Sweden a Swede, someone from Denmark a Dane, someone from Finland a Finn, so should we call someone from Norway a Norge …..?

Note 1 King Haakon VII was exiled in London during the Nazi Occupation in WW2. The monarchy is in the news today as the oldest son of Mette-Marit, the Crown Princess, Marius Borg Hoiby, is on trial accuses of raping four women.

Note 2 It’s the same in India. If you like curry, either at breakfast, lunch or supper, or all three, you will not go hungry!

PC 476 Memories of Regimental Service in Germany (2)

~ postcardscribblesblog ~ 1 Comment

….. continued from PC 474 …….

In PC 15 Alcohol and Other Drugs (June 2014) I wrote about my own journey from schoolboy to teetotaller, through a great deal of red and white wines, spirits and liqueurs, not to mention cigarettes and little cigars! As a single officer living in the Mess off-duty life revolved, as I’ve already admitted, around the bar; it was part of the life we led. Sometimes you need someone else to tell you some home truths. Paddy Surgeoner, the Battery Sergeant Major of 132 Medium Battery (The Bengal Rocket Troop) Royal Artillery, took me aside one day and said: “Hold out your arm, Captain Yates.” “Why?” (so argumentative!) “Just do it, Sir!” So, I held out my arm, as straight as I could. He looked at my hand. “Keep your hand still.” (It was shaking!) “I am, Sergeant Major!” “Think you should cut down on the booze, Sir!”

South of the German city of Hanover lies the town of Coppenbrügge; to its south-west lie what were the British Army bases of Bielefeld and Paderborn. Somewhere near the town the geography moulds and constricts any advancing enemy from the east into a narrow fold – forever known to those who exercised a fighting withdrawal as the Coppenbrügge Gap. I certainly spent a few days each year in a camouflaged vehicle or trench overlooking this ‘choke point’, waiting to bring down artillery fire on the ‘enemy’.

Recently we have become more aware of our changing global climate and an increase in the frequency of ‘once-in-a-lifetime’ events. In 1972, during a two-week live firing exercise on Hohne, the six self-propelled M109s of my battery (6 Medium Battery Royal Artillery) were deployed in a firing area which was surrounded by very tall pine trees. As the afternoon wore on, the wind strength increased to a point when it would have been unsafe to continue firing. Thirty minutes later a tornado ripped through the countryside. My observation later was: ‘It was as if a malevolent hand had brushed the surface of the land’, uprooting thousands of trees and lifting corrugated rooves off barns.

Often a mammoth ‘fuck up’ can led to glory! In 1973 my battery was on a non-live firing exercise on the Bergen-Hohne Training area, part of which would be a test of our ‘nuclear’ preparedness. As the GPO (Gun Position Officer) I was responsible for every aspect of the gun position. It went wrong from the beginning. I bummed a helicopter ride from a chum, Jim Longfield, to conduct a reconnaissance of the allocated training area to determine where best to set out the six guns; that was OK! But the first ‘recce’ Command Post AFV 432 caught fire on its way overland, causing delays and by the time the test started, we were behind. Our responses were slow because the firing tables hadn’t been amended and eventually the Directing Staff (DS) and AIGs (Assistant Instructor Gunnery) terminated our participation. We would be retested, a NATO requirement, after the DS and AIGs had crawled all over us, admonishing us for this and that; it was not a happy few weeks.

On the re-test, everything and everyone came together. The result was highlighted by the Master Gunner, a full-ranking general, who came by helicopter to visit the gun position. Initially he couldn’t find it, so good was the camouflage that my gunners had used to disguise the six large M109 guns. “Best gun position he’d ever seen.”

You can make out the self-propelled M109 barrel – but not much else.

Three Nine Regiment Royal Artillery in Paderborn had a tactical nuclear capability, that is the ability to fire a small yield nuclear shell. The US made the shells and their maintenance was controlled by a small American Army detachment led by a Captain Bob Anala. His team’s presence in the barracks ensured there was also a small PX (PX: Post Exchange – an American store), where I was introduced to the delights of Aunt Jemima pancakes, Bourbon, and King Edward cigars.

Bob celebrating his birthday

Other names surface from the murky depths; Ollerhead, Bailey, Corbett-Burcher, Ross, Longfield, Bromby, Watkins, Tar, Bazard, Faith, Sawrey-Cookson, Peters, Piper, Rooke, James, Clarke, Colley, Treseder, Myberg, Pender, Morley, Harman, Gwyn, Freeth, McNee, Quarelle and Scarlett …. and my soldiers like Sergeants Fitzpatrick and Williams or Bombardiers Batchelor or Elrick.

When I started Officer Training at RMA Sandhurst, we wore leather boots for drill and leather boots for training exercises – they got wet, they were uncomfortable. Fast forward to Germany some years later and it wasn’t much better. In the winter Germany was generally colder so I bought a pair of fur-lined tank boots. These, with white long-johns and insulating inner soles, became de rigour, especially when one was on a bare hill practising ‘Observation of Fire’ (ie correcting artillery fire to where you wanted it) and it was -10C. One spring for some reason the whole regiment was in a tented camp up at Bergen-Hohne; we had over a foot of snow!

I reflect that one got used to living outside, either down some hole, under or in a vehicle. So much so that on return to barracks after two or three weeks living in the elements, it was necessary to turn off the central heating and throw open the windows!

I have mentioned in another postcard that, on a day off from an exercise, I visited the Belsen concentration camp, or what was left of it ….. mounds and mounds of banked earth, with a simple sign at their base, something like: ‘Here are buried 2000 bodies’. If the atmosphere pervading the area wasn’t bad enough, sombre, tangibly evil, no birds, one only had to drive across to the Bergen-Hohne railway station, where those destined for the camp arrived. Looking down from an overbridge at the platforms, a light drizzle falling in the dusk, a breeze swinging the station lamps ….. imagining a train arriving and disgorging its human cargo for their final kilometre or so …… words fail but the visuals survive.

(To be continued …..)

Richard 30th January 2026

Hove

http://www.postcardscribbles.co.uk