You Shall Go To The Ball
One of the greater perils of serving in Northern Ireland at the time was not getting shot by the I.R.A but rather getting back late from a night out.
Unlike Cinderella if we weren't back in time it wasn't merely a case of our taxi turning into a pumpkin - we actually went to jail.
I can't remember exactly what time the curfew was. Apparently it was there for our protection. I do remember that it was at a very inconvenient time. Late enough that you could have drunk enough to forget the time. Also late enough to allow the Romeo's time to pull but not necessarily the time to find out if she really was an aeroplane blonde. Definitely late enough to make finding a taxi to get you home in time a real pain in the neck.
And the consequences of failing to arrive back in time.
28 days in the camp jail and 28 days loss of pay. Harsh - yes. Effective - very.
fired down the range by DC at 2:08 pm
5 Comments:
great post. Just passing through, cool blog by the way.
Hmm. The Humanity Critic left exactly the same comment on my blog today too. And I thought I was special...
How late must one be to get such a punishment? One minute, ten? an hour?
Hannah - damn you could have kept quiet and then i'd feel special ;)
Monica - at whatever time the curfew kicked in the gates were locked. That was is - if you weren't in you were in trouble. Some people managed to talk their way out of it.
Enjoyed the 'aeroplane blonde' term; sounds like you need the
"Profanisarus"
http://www.viz.co.uk/profanisaurus/profanis.htm
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