Thursday 27th April, 2017                    2235

This entry has nothing to do with Lanzhou or even China for that matter.

Readers here know a lot (or should do) about me from what I write but my younger days have not been discussed.

I am in the middle of watching a BBC series about the Scottish in Russia (mainly because I know St Petersburg and that comes in episode 2) and there is a chap called Gordon who is discussed who obviously had great influence in history.

I got to thinking that most people alive today actually have hade very little chance to influence history anywhere. Certainly people reading this are old enough to have seen WW2, a time when reputations were forged and careers made but since then there has been little for us to be able to engage in and make a huge difference or write a chapter in world history. Unless of course you happen to have been good at computers or are a barrow boy done good.

Now I reckon most, if not all, young men daydream occasionally of being a hero to at least someone. Epic battles, heroic bravery and all the elements of a rattling good Hollywood blockbuster play out in the mind just before you fall asleep of a night. Of course the reality for most is a clock card at 0800 in the morning and clock-watching until 1700 when it is time to leave and perhaps go for a pint.

Now there are people in this world who have the opinion that I am both arrogant and spoilt. The arrogant bit I understand because if I have an opinion as far as I am concerned, unless I am presented with irrefutable evidence I am wrong, then I am right. I do not think I am alone in being thus.

The spoilt bit rather rankles because I am the eldest of six brats raised entirely in council or rented accommodation. No iPads, iPods, computers, designer trainers etc for my family. We had bugger all except for good old fashioned DIY fun.

Anyway I digress.

Life in a three bedroom house with a married couple, four sons and two daughters was hardly what I would describe as “spoilt”. Even on leave from the sea I could not sit on the throne or in the bath without my dearly departed Mother knocking on the door to make sure I was still alive after three minutes. Quite how she thought I was going to drown in my morning bath when I had just circumnavigated the globe is beyond me but that was the way it was in our house. Drove me bonkers but now she has gone of course, like many before me, I wish she could knock on my shower door tomorrow morning just so I could offer a few expletives!

Anyway. In early May, 1982 Mum woke me hideously early at 0930 (I had been locked in my local pub playing cards until 0300) to tell me my boss (personnel officer) was on the phone.

Blearily I stumbled downstairs to the phone, which was situated just behind the front door in the hall.

Are ye ready to go back? He asked. Stupid question, I never refused ( and ultimately ended up being owed 6 months paid leave even after cashing in another 6 months for the money). Aye.

Ok, I have a choice for you.

Mother was in the kitchen listening to every word, there was no such thing as a private phone call in our house.

I have been with you for 9 years and never had a choice! Ok, what are my choices?
The Baron Belhaven or the Falklands.

Well this was the height of  the Falklands war and probably the only one I would ever have a chance to be part of. All those youthful heroic dreams suddenly sprang to life. I could be in a real war!

My response was instant. I’ll take the Falklands.

I swear my Mother all but collapsed in the kitchen (taught her a lesson for eavesdropping maybe but probably not) and I was then told it was a joke, our ships were no good for the Falklands. They were bulk carriers.

I was actually deflated. Would I have been terrified going to the South Atlantic? Of course I would. Did I want to go? Yes!

But no, there was no choice. It was the Baron Belhaven, where just after the war ended at anchor off Blyth, Northumberland, I ended up being a Mayday myself during a lifeboat drill and subsequently spent 6 months on the beach with everything broken and very lucky to be alive. I had my war but it was not to be fighting anyone else. The tale of that is one I may tell another day.