When you are younger and attend the funerals of the older generation, most do not linger on the thought of it being your turn one day. When you start attending the funerals of your own circle, it is brought home to you just how vunerable we really are. To day I went to the funeral of my Brother in Law/ friend. We had known each other since we were kids (14 me and 17 him). I remember being at Wembley with him in '66 watching us win the World cup, and him throwing up later that night in Cornwall where we had gone to celebrate, an oggie full of maggots. When I joined up at 15, he immediatly tried to join as well but was refused due to education. He joined the RR fusilers instead, educated himself whilst in and ended up with a BA. He suffered heart failure (survived) whilst serving and was invalided out. He married my sister in 1967 when he was 19 and they had a great life and two friggin great big sons, one of which is at present in the Stan with the the REME and the other in a place with squirrels. He was a great bloke and at 63 was still plenty young enough to have been around with us for a few more years. Rest in Peace Eric my old mucker and hope that wherever you are now there is plenty of Pusser's blue label, a slight habit I may have dragged him into. Next thursday we will be saying goodbye to my friend and neighbour of 25 years as he crossed the bar on Christmas eve. He was an ex submariner and I sure am going to miss the crack with him, nobody handy to remind me how inadequate the surface fleet realy is and me constantly discribing to him what a bathroom looked like, and telling him what place soap had in the Navy. So Robo I get to drink all the pusser's myself this year, and as I am assured even stokers get to go somewhere decent on the other side I hope they have it there oppo. Robo MEM 2 Sub, catch you on the Christmas tree shipers. RIP. No spell checker, upset so if the spelling sh1te don't give a monkeys left testicle.