Song of my returning
I am packed. My alarm is set, and a mate of mine, Mark, who drives a Taxi, is picking me up at 8 am. Tomorrow I leave for my first ship. A combination of trains, boats, and auto-mobiles will deliver me to my vessel in Northern France. I don't know where it's going, or how long I'll be gone. "A while" my training officer told me. I will miss my Daughters 6th Birthday, and Cheltenham, and the Grand National. It's hard to write out what I'm feeling at the moment. It's quite surreal. I'd say emotional. Listening to Phil Ochs is probably amplifying things ten fold; especially that song up there. I fucking love Phil Ochs. I've said all my goodbyes today; and it was actually harder than I thought it would be. I'm becoming more emotional the older I get. Evelyn, my daughter is at that age, where she acts up; and at our meal last night she said she didn't care that I was going away . . . she's six in three weeks; and I won't be there for her Birthday. Kids....This is the hand I've been dealt. My family have been immense with me over the years; I was the Black sheep for a while; but I think deep down, they knew I had the potential, even when I didn't. Lookin' back is a bad habit! I hope to repay their support, and make them all proud of me.
Here I go . . . . .