Back On Deck
I’m back. After three blissful weeks with L and the kids, lazing around the pool, drinking beer, eating food fit for human consumption (and discerning humans at that), throwing the football (that’s a rugby ball people!) and grabbing every hug I could; I flew back in to KAF via Bastion yesterday. It was a nightmare. Suffering from a mild hangover, I was jammed into the aircraft with a couple of hundred other assorted contractors and forced to endure a rocky ride that seemed to last forever. The cabin AC didn’t work and, judging from the stink around me, I wasn’t the only one to hit it a bit on the last night in ‘the world’. All I could do was watch out the window at the passing brown earth blurring neatly into the dusty brown sky, and hope not to throw up.
I eventually got back to my compound around 1700 and straight into a queue of the lads wanting to vent. Apparently they had a less-than-happy time in my absence. It’s good to feel wanted but I eventually had to tell an unfortunate, who got me after my ear had been bent for nearly two hours, to ‘harden up for fuck’s sake and just get on with it’. He wasn’t happy but apologised for besieging me when I hadn’t even got to my room to unpack. I finally got to my room around 2000, showered, unpacked, loaded my magazines and collapsed into bed.
This morning was no better, if a little more organised, as I took brief-backs from my senior managers and team leaders. I am already up to my ears in issues that need resolving – some significant, some mouse shit – and hundreds of emails to wade though (again, some significant but most rubbish). One thing’s for sure: I won’t have time to sit and reflect on how much I really don’t want to be here.
Still and all, I’ve missed my lads and, in a crazy sort of way, I’m pleased to be back.
The temperature is up here and so is the threat. The bad guys have been active while I’ve been getting fat and the weeks ahead are slated to be hot in every way. What a job, hey?