When leave finally came I headed back to my flat in London and looked forward to a couple of months relaxing playing sports, drinking with my buddies and making up for lost time with my girlfriend Fiona. This was not to be, however. Firstly, Fiona, who seemed to have lost about twenty pounds in weight in my absence making her appear drawn and skinny rather than the full-figured girl I first fell for, gave me rather a cool instead of warm welcoming home, and announced that she had got a “great” new job with an American publishing company and would be working in New York for several months, starting immediately; and secondly, and equally depressingly, a mere 24 hours into my leave I got a call from my ship’s captain outlining the charming fact that in one month I would be skippering a motor patrol boat between the dangerous Iraq-Iran waterways for at least six months, and that as from the next day I would be on a three-week intensive Arab language course at a college in the West Country. It was not very welcome news, to put it mildly, although I’d do the best I could.

After one night with Fiona and an unsatisfactory, quick fuck, which for me was just a brief release of tension and for her a quick break from talking about her bright future, I threw some clothes into a rucksack and caught the train West after my car, my very expensive car, whose rash purchase had left me flat broke for the immediate past and future, had refused to start. With my expenses to be paid, in true fashion, “at a later date,” I rang my Aunt, who fortunately lived near the college and I arranged to stay there.

My aunt and uncle were due to leave for a weeks break in Ireland the day after I arrived which meant I’d be alone with time to reflect on my dissatisfaction with my naval career and my clearly failing relationship with Fiona. Too much time for introspection, is not often a good thing, I’ve found. The college I was to attend, although a regular civilian, not military one, was on its summer break, so there were not even any fine eighteen year-old girls to admire. Instead, there were only a few language summer courses being run, and my time there was spent in a class with a dozen middle-aged male government employees brushing up their language skills for brief, lucrative postings in the Middle-East. The teacher was an annoying Algerian guy with a particularly sarcastic sense of humour, and I found learning the Arab language simultaneously both tedious and difficult. All in all it was a chore and a bore. To Be Coninued. Story Credit

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