My Military Conversion

I called my boyfriend yesterday morning. 'I Hate You' I said, as he answered with his incredibly cheery, (and very annoying) 'hello darling!'. 'I really, really, really hate you'. He laughed. 'Well I'm not making you do it - go on - stay in bed, watch telly all day, it's fine. I don't mind,' 'Now I really REALLY hate you' I said, and put down the phone. I walked over to the window. Yep - still the same. Pouring rain, howling winds. Bank holiday monday, perfect for curling up in bed with Sex and The City, but instead I was being made to go outside and walk in the rain with a bunch of marine reservists and their supportive girlfriends. Ugh.

However, I knew it meant a lot to Soldier Boy that I go with him, and it was too late to back out now. Sighing, I got myself ready and waited to be picked up. Soldier Boy jumped out the car with a huge military waterproof, listened to me complain for ten minutes while he pulled and prodded, and fitted the jacket to me. I surveyed myself in the mirror, and almost sort of liked the way I looked in uniform.

'You do know that I look like a massive lesbian, don't you?' I said. Soldier Boy just laughed. Actually, that's how reacts to most of my moods which is even more annying than him getting annoyed with them.

So anyway. We set off to the New Forest. Soldier Boy and his friend had plotted the route on an ordinance survey map, and were improving their map-reading skills by following the bearing - or something. There were eight of us in the group, with two 'navigators'. We started walking through the forest - and yes, it was still pouring with rain. Luckily, the wind had stopped howling and my government-issue waterproof was doing its job - unlike the sods who issue it. But my combats weren't doing so well. As we clambered through kneee-high shrubbery, I got more and more soaked from the waist down, but concentrated on keeping my feet dry.

Then we came to what was marked on the map as a 'stream'. Obviously with the overnight rain, this little stream was now a raging torrent. Without a bridge, there was no way of crossing it without getting soaked - so we had to walk up along the stream and cross where it was possible. Which meant that we lost our bearing and our place on the map. We eventually found a big log and clambered across it, but now we had to find out where we were.

And so we continued. But now, in addition to the pouring rain, we had to stop, for what seemed like every five minutes, and watch while Navigator 1 and Navigator 2 examined the map, pointed their compass around, walked one direction, then stopped, looked at the mao, walked another direction, and so on. Every time Navigator 1 decided on a direction, Navigator 2 called him back, ummed and arred, checked the points, argued the toss and then proceeded in the same direction. I was getting more and more grumpy, and wet, and Solider Boy had noticed. 'Morale low? he asked. 'It's the rain, isn't it?' I glowered at him.
'No, it's not the rain, Solider Boy. Stopping every five minutes and examining that fucking map for half an hour - that's what's making my 'morale' low.'

To top it all off, as we started making track to the pub, we came across what can only be described as a swamp. Disguised as a grassy patch, I step right in it. 'Squelch'. So there go my feet, wet as can be, for the next two hours of the trail.

But it did get better. It stopped raining for one, we reached the pub where I changed into dry socks and trousers, and we started finding our way a bit better as well. The sun even came out.

Not that I enjoyed it, mind you.