A Title? But That Involves Thought...

Okay, okay. I know it's been an age since I last wrote, but don't hold it against me - assuming of course, you give a shit. But here's a quick update on what's happened since the last time I pained you with my litera- uh, ramblings.

Rejected, like a horny Jack Russel
Unfortunately, I didn't make it into the Army. This was a major set-back for me - one I'm still left reeling from, despite it happening over half a year ago. I had my whole life planned out on the back of being successful with this. But I wasn't, and I still haven't figured out an alternative track to take.
In case you're wondering, I was referred on the medical basis that I'm afflicted by migraines, of which I understand, but it still doesn't do anything to moisten my throat to help me swallow that large and bitter pill.

PPP-Passed
Literally by the skin of my teeth, but I passed college. My previous blogs have probably well documented the sheer lack of enjoyment that I found in going to college in the last few months of my course. Thanks to the abnormally high levels of wank that South Tyneside College is, and having less in common with my class mates than I would with a slug it got to the stage where I just lost all interest and did the bare minimum to pass with at least something that wouldn't have sent those two years sailing through the air straight into the thick file of my life headed: "ANOTHER WASTE OF FUCKING TIME".

Hello, thanks for calling...
I left Primark and got a job in the technical phone support industry. I found that leaving Primark after three years was a quite difficult, as much as I hated the job itself, the people who I worked with made it worth getting up for.
That aside, as I direct result in my being referred from the Army, I decided that I probably had to get a proper job where I had to get up every morning for. I've been there for five months now, and it's surprising how quickly it becomes apparent that spending 8 and a half hours a day talking at a computer screen is seriously yawn inducing.

Fell off t' perch
The news that an incredible member of the family was ill and diagnosed with weeks to live arrived like a kick in the groin - by a horse - for everyone. My Grandfather was my idol, one minute fit as a fiddle, the next, quite literally on his death bed.
A true Yorkshire man born and bred, big wig in the Maisonettes and head of the family, this man managed to sneak into Russia for a holiday, broke his foot on Ayers Rock and proposed to his wife on The Great Wall of China. He once when to the Borneo rainforest and traveled across Israel as well as countless other places. I could never even put into words how much of an inspirational man that he was. Really, I couldn't.

Commoner's Palace
Over the past year and a half I think I've moved around five times. A youth hostel, to 2 different shared accommodation houses, to a council flat and now finally a flat of which I share with a very close friend. It's taken a while, but I can finally settle down and be comfortable with where I live.


So, yeah - that's enough about my meaningless life. It probably wasn't quite as world changing as the Arab Spring, or Kim-Jong Il's demise - but it killed a few hours of otherwise inate boredom that has been my Saturday.

Don't ever be the first, don't ever be the last and don't ever volunteer to do anything.

Over the past month or so I have taken the decision and put into force the motions for my joining the Army. I've always wanted to join up and in 2009, I nearly did, falling short when I received the news that I was going to become a father. At the time I couldn't, in good conscience just fuck off and leave the mother to go through it without my support; or even risk missing some of the most important parts of a child's life; so I stayed and decided that maybe in the future I would try again.

Since the start of the year the idea of giving it a second chance has been bouncing around my head and I just put it down as a pipe dream and tried not to think about it too much, but then I got in one day and turned on the telly to the last 15minutes of a documentary that Jeremy Kyle was doing called Jeremy Kyle's: Military Driving School. It seriously put a strong, and sweet, taste in my mouth that made me decide that the Army is what I wanted.

The next day I had free I found myself sitting in the Armed Forces Careers Office in Newcastle, sat in the exact same spot as I had 2 years previous twisting my thumbs, looking around at the separate forces' desks, reading the posters and watching the same montage of clips repeat themselves over and over on the plasma in the corner of the room whilst I waited for my turn with the Army cadre. There was a surprising amount of other applicants in with me that day too, mostly young lasses; a couple had even brought their toddlers with them. I wasn't quite sure what their stories were, and I did my best not to find out. I was there for me, and for me only.

When the Staff Sergeant on duty that day finally got round to seeing me he asked me what the score was and I replied along the lines of, "well, I kind of want to join the Army...sir." Probably not the best work of articulation that's left my mouth, and he obviously thought the same with the retort of, "you wouldn't be sitting here if you didn't".

I explained to him that I wanted to join the RLC (Royal Logistics Corps) as a Driver and that I had applied a couple of years ago but decided not todue to the issues already explained above. From this he found me on the system and told me that I hadn't explained this to them at the time and they just assumed I had chickened out (which is understandable, there was a lot going on at that point in my life - perhaps notifying the Army that I wasn't joining after all may have slipped my mind). I apologised and explained that I thought I had and tried to make it look like I wasn't some silly boy who couldn't make up his mind.

The SSG told me that as a result of my past application and the current state of affairs within the Armed Forces that if I flunked this time around, unless it was for a 'fucking good reason', that would be it and I would be kicked out the door if I tried to apply again in the future. I told him that I understood and gathered up the application forms that he issued me with and left.

Filling out the forms didn't take too long, and the next opportunity I got, I returned them back the the Recruitment Office, where I found the same SSG that dealt with my application originally in 2009 - thankfully he didn't remember me, and didn't hold it against me that I'd dropped out before as much as the first SSG did. He told me that I was too smart to be a driver and should seriously consider doing something else. Copies of my ID and qualifications were taken and we had a little chat about how my father was once a signaller (which was what he was). He queried as to why I didn't want to follow in Dad's footsteps to which I replied that it just didn't sound very interesting (I think this offended him a little). Either way, he gave me a date to return to do my BARB test (British Army Recruitment Battery), shook my hand and sent me on my way.

The BARB test is a 30 minute basic aptitude test that generates a result from the answers provided to questions relating to basic logic. Said questions include: "If this shape looks like this now, what would it look like when flipped 90°?" Easy? You would think so, and so would I, but I somehow managed to fuck it up big time and came out with a result around 20 points lower than I had got in 2009. Thankfully it meant that I could still be a driver; but my personal pride did take a little bit of a dent. After this I had another word with my SSG about my options and with a firm handshake, yet more paperwork (this time medical) to fill in, a list of Army Jobs I am eligible for (mostly infantry) sent me on my way to chew over my list of choices.

Since then, I have decided on my job role that I would like to do (Driver/Communications Specialist) and as of earlier today, got my medical paperwork sorted out with my new doctor. Apparently my normal doctor retired in November and I didn't even realise - shows how often I go to see him. Anyway, my new doctor (whom has an equally Indian name) seemed very nice and eager to see my ambition to join up successful and promised to get the forms filled out and sent away as soon as he could.

Another thing I have been doing since the BARB test is a fitness work. I've researched the selection requirements for the RLC selection and found out that I have to be able to run 1.5miles in a maximum of 13 minutes 15 seconds. It may sound difficult, but believe me, 1.5 miles really isn't all that great a distance, and my times for it have steadily been getting better and better up until the focal point last night when I managed it in a time of 13.05. Which is my best time by far. I am going to keep training and aim for around 10minutes at least to ensure that I'm not passing by the skin of my teeth when it comes to doing it for real - and plus it's handy to have that extra piece of stamina available if and when I need it. I've also been doing a lot of cycling to raise my stamina levels and been getting the sit up and press up tally steadily counting upward.

That is it so far, and I'm just waiting to hear back from my SSG when he receives my medical paperwork from my doc. When that happens I'll be booked onto a pre ADSC course (basically a selection, selection course) where my fitness will be tested for a day to ensure that I am physically git enough to even join the Army.

I know this has been a long one, but bear with me for just a couple more paragraphs, please!

This is like a dream for me, and although I am seriously excited to finally be doing this and having all these events set into motion, I am also still ridiculously nervous. I'm worried about how much I'll miss my 2 year old son, and my family and friends. I'm worried about how much I'll miss my current job; as much as I hate the job itself, the people make it so much worth while.

But I know that on this path I'm taking, I'll make new friends, and I'll still be able to see my son, and I'll still be able to keep in contact with the friends I leave behind - and with all the money I'll be earning, I'll be able to spoil the sprog rotten and party 'til the cows come home when I'm on leave.

Until the next development, or event that causes me to have the urge to write satirically about...

ADIOS!