YOUR SHOUT
»Fiona, your piece about your messy son joining the Army felt like you were writing about our son, Joe, who joined the forces five years ago. He’s now a Lance Corporal in the Medical Regiment. Many a tear was shed when he joined up, but our hearts burst with pride for him and all the other men and women who’ve done so.
Anyway, our son is the messiest person in the world. His bedroom is like an explosion has gone off. We also thought he would change with a bit of discipline but, no, he’s still exactly the same, even worse we reckon! So, we wish your son all the best, but I think you might be mildly shocked. Hope I’m wrong! Pam McKeown, via email
FP: So do I, Pam! Good job we love them…
»Fiona, I’d like to thank your son for joining the Corps of Royal Engineers. Gentlemen, elite of elite. I’m sure with his willingness and the Corps’ reputation for perfection, he will become a fine, upstanding pillar of society. God bless him, and best wishes for his future.
Pete Mansfield, via email
FP: That’s so sweet of you to say, Pete. Thank you. I am hoping the very same!
»Fiona, I’m sorry to let you know that your lovely son will become a great soldier and obey all the rules, but once he comes back he’ll be in “home” mode and will be just as untidy as always.
Our son joined the RAF, at 18, in the 1980s. His bedroom was always an absolute dump – clothes and stuff everywhere around the house.
He was posted to Northern Ireland, the Falklands, Italy and Greenham Common, but when he came home he was still our messy son!
He used to bring his washing home in a bag with the nuclear sign on it! He’s in his 50s now with four sons of his own. He had a great life in the RAF and has grown into a wonderful man who we are very proud of.
Clare Ash, via email
FP: Oh Clare, your message made me laugh AND almost cry! Thanks for the warning.
»Hi Fiona, our eldest was 16 when he joined the Royal Signals. Don’t get your hopes up about your son coming home on leave and transforming into a domestic paragon. Ours didn’t!
There were times when he would get extra weekend leave, and just phone from our local rail station. After lunch on the Sunday he would announce he couldn’t afford a return ticket, so could we drive him back to Catterick – a 300-mile round trip. The things you do for your kids, eh?