Lonely

I'm not writing this to get people to feel sorry for me, I'm writing it to express my feelings.
Three weeks ago I went in for an operation on my left knee, an osteoarticular autograph.



For my recovery from this operation I have to wear a leg brace and for the first three weeks I couldn't bend my leg more than 30°. During the first three weeks I also couldn't weight bare on my left leg.


After my recent visit to physiotherapy I can now bend my leg to 60° and I'm allowed to place my left foot on the floor, but I still can't weight bare on it.
As a result of this I can't drive, I rely on my girlfriend to take me anywhere. I don't use public transport for personal reasons and getting around on my crutches is extremely tiring and painful. I've now developed an impact injury in my right foot from over compensation. Basically, getting around now causes me pain.


As my girlfriend has to work nights I find myself going to bed alone. On her return home she goes to bed after a long, hard and tiring shift. This again leaves me downstairs alone. Especially now since the girls have gone back to school.
I find myself confined between the four walls of the house. The last weekend was especially tough as I had to miss out on a weekend away with 203 Field Hospital.



Most of you know Gnr Faulkner, he is my companion. I don't have many friends, I have no friends that live close to me and could pop in for a brew. Sad I know, but I've grown to accept this fact. Gnr Faulkner keeps me company and helps me through my low times, one of which I'm currently going through. Some of you may take the piss or even form an opinion of me that may not be very nice, but as I've stated in a previous post, I don't care. Gnr Faulkner and many of you on Twitter (you know who you are) are helping me through the tough times of my depression.
I may be mad, I may be immature at times but that's who I am.

I still find myself going through a tough time at the moment, I know there are those out there who have it worse off than me, but everyone is different and deals with life in their own individual way. I hate feeling alone like I do at the moment. I just want to thank those of you on twitter who have supported me through my problems.

Don't Take Kids Up Mountains

Well, what a weekend that was. I enjoyed it, the kids less so. I always loved camping when I was a kid. The last time I stayed in a tent was on the top of a mountain in France with the TA and I loved every minute of it.

I shall refer to Ambre's eldest child, who is almost 16, as SC1, and her youngest daughter as SC2, who is 10.

I'd taken the day off from work to sort everything out and pack, my bergen was packed, weighing in at 30kg plus change, the girls tent and sleeping bags were packed and my 20ltr jerry can cleaned and filled.
With the car packed and the girls home from school and changed we set off leaving about 1700hrs.
The plan was to stop on the way up at a pub and grab dinner, this wasn't to be. None of the pubs on route looked decent enough to stop at and eat. Personally, I was looking out for a Harvester. So with a few wrong turns we finally arrived at the campsite at 2100hrs.
The weather forecast for that evening was short lasting light showers. What a load of bull crap. Once again our fantastic weather forecasters need a high five...in the face...with a chair.
The wind was strong, it was raining, not showering and evening dusk was turning into night.


I had a plan set up the two tents with mine, the small one, being partially sheltered from the wind by the girls tent, the big one, and in the middle with me a cooking area. I went ahead and set mine up while Ambre argued with the girls about setting theirs up.

With the tents up hunger set in, having not eaten on the way up the girls were moaning about being hungry. My solution...ration packs. On went my stove and mess tins willed with water. The choices weren't brilliant, 2 Veg All Day Breaks, 1 Spicy Vegetable Rigatoni and 1 Veg Tomato, Potato and Sausage. (I'm not a veggie, but it's what I was given). Everyone moaned about the food, I was cheeky and added Tabasco sauce to mine. Oh and the veggie sausage are gross.
Food done, it was time for bed. Ambre and I went to our tent and the girls to theirs. With us in our tent and all alone there was only one thing to do before we fell asleep *wink wink*.

Morning broke and along with it a change in the weather, it was no longer raining, the wind had died down and you could see the sun behind the clouds. Ambre moved to the girls tent and I collapsed ours and packed it away, it was now time for breakfast.
Out came the stove and the pans, in went the bacon and bobs your uncle, bacon rolls, plus we had a brew as well. What more could you want.


Eventually everyone was up, dress and packed. There was a lot of moaning from SC1, "I'll stay in the car, I'm not going”
"The hell you are!" was my reply, but probably with a few more swear words. She was coming with us whether she liked it or not, and she didn't like it.

The path I decided on was the Watkins path, described as the hardest, but most scenic. We'd only been walking for 30mins and SC1 was already moaning and stopping. With frequent "come on, you're doing this" and "there's a cafe at the top" SC1 finally put her legs into drive and started walking.
Even with the weight in my back I frequently push ahead of everyone else so every now and they I stopped to let them catch up, but it seemed that every time they caught up with me they stopped. Now it was time for SC2 to start dragging her heals. She was slowing the rest of the party down, having to stop and wait for her all the time.


After repeatedly asking where we were and how far left I reluctantly told the girls that we were only half way. This news didn't go down to well with them. I cracked on, giving them no choice but to follow. As it started to get steeper I found us stopping more frequently to catch up with each other and force the girls to move on. It was during one of these stops that Ambre caught up with me and said that SC1 was on the verge of tears, saying she couldn't walk anymore. My response was that she can either wait where we had stopped for us to return from the top, or continue to the top with us. She continued with us.


Another ’I can't walk anymore' later I decided to make a compromise with the girls. If they get to the top then we'll get the train back down. This seemed to go down well with them so we cracked on.

We continued following the trail, once taking a wrong turn where the trail seems to disappear. I quickly shot on ahead and found 2 others along the path making their way down. We were on the wrong path, time to backtrack. After finding the correct path and continuing along it for a bit it disappeared once again, this time there were no other possible options, it seems that we had to climb of rocks and gravel. We continued on, passing people on the way down, looks like we were on the right path. The assent they got steeper, the rocks bigger and we went from walking up a mountain, to rock climbing up a mountain. SC2 went in front with Ambre behind her making sure she didn't slip, SC1 was behind Ambre with me as tail-end charlie making sure she didn't slip. Everyone seemed to be shooting ahead of me, forgetting I had this massive bergen on my back. On one occasion there didn't seem to be anyway to continue, well according to SC1. She then insisted we called mountain rescue. This statement was quickly followed by two "F**k off"s from Ambre and myself, telling her that mountain rescue were for emergencies and that this was not an emergency.
We found a path and carried on a bit further, at this point, I was the only one enjoying themselves. I was in my element. Ambre was pissed off because she didn't believe this was the path, SC2 was just her usual miserable self and SC1 had given up altogether.

I told SC1 that she needed to move as she was holding me back, she adamantly refused to move, breaking down into tears and telling us that she was going to stay where she was and she would die there. It took a lot of swearing at Ambre and me reassuring her that we would get the train down.

The rock climbing continued, with the mountain in fog we couldn't see the top, and all I heard from Ambre was "I can see more shadow", which was her complaining that we weren't at the top yet.
I checked the map and my gps,we were almost there so I told them to push on, then I heard "I found a path", great we're pretty much there. We went a long a short path had to climb a few rocks then we saw people. We were there we'd reached the summit. I was proud of myself, we had achieved it, we'd taken the hardest route and made it to the top of Snowdon.


I had my picture taken and we made our way to the cafe, damn it was closing. Fine, quickly I asked about the train down and was allowed to pass through, I spoke to a conductor, they had no problem with us getting on, but it was going to cost me £18 per adult and £15 per child. Sod it, I had to because there was no way I was going to put up with the girls moaning, so £66 later we were on the train, my bergen (and Gnr Faulkner) being so big ended up in the engine with the train driver, I got into the coach and I fell asleep soon after setting off.

I got a nudge when we reached the station, we were finally off the mountain, not the way I would have preferred but we were down and everyone was happy. We still had one more problem, I wasn't 100% sure where we were in relation to our campsite, I had an idea though so we checked a map. We were the opposite side of the mountain to our campsite, Ambre's suggestion of walking back quickly went out the window and the only alternative was to get a taxi back.
We called a taxi, I withdrew some money and we all made our way back to the campsite. According to the taxi driver who works for mountain rescue, a lot of people don't realise how steep that path gets and they have quite a few call outs. We got back to the campsite and I had to negotiate with the drive as the total came to £36 and all I had was £34, he wasn't bothered he got paid.

So we were down, back at the campsite, I was £100 lighter and I was the one who had to drive back. But the journey back was uneventful.
But Ambre and I learnt something from the trip. We are never taking the kids again.

I really enjoyed myself though, and I am proud for getting to the top.

We Do It For Them

I've just finished reading Man Down by Mark "Rammers" Ormrod. If you haven't read this book you should. A true story about how he was blown up by an IED, lost his legs and right arm and his recovery afterwards.
What he went through and has to go through everyday, along with too many other servicemen, is why I am doing my fundraiser for Help for Heroes.
I was driving my truck thinking that I want to do something to help. I racked my brain for a few minutes thinking what I could do. Then I came up with doing the 3 peaks. I'm sure I could do it, but I wanted the misses to come with me. I asked her. She was up for it. So the training has started, we try to walk a mountain about once a week. We've done Pen-y-Fan three times.



The London Marathon happened the other weekend and Rammers posted about doing it on a bike with his arm. I said go for it, so did a few others. Now I can walk 26.2 miles fine. I'd moan but I'm sure I could do it. Running it was another thing. Bob Toomey said he would run with him, as did Kyleigh Hill. Inspired by Rammers I also said I would run with him as well, unfortunately with all the tweets going on I think my comment went unnoticed.

If it does happen I'm pretty sure he would lap me, my knees are getting worse and now constantly ache if not hurt, but I won't let that stop me. I've only spoken to Rammers a few times on Twitter since I haven't been following him long, but I think the guy is fantastic. I think I've got a man crush. AWKWARD. But before anyone thinks wrong, here's the Urban Dictionary definition. "When a straight man has a 'crush' on another man, not sexual but kind of idolising him."

I've probably just been blocked by him after that. Lol. But I must say, the guy is awesome. What he and others have been through inspire me to raise what I can for Help for Heroes. So any other injured serviceman or servicewomen can have the best chance of rehabilitation possible.

There are a few others on Twitter doing fantastic things. Dave Anderson is doing Ironman UK for the Royal Marines Association and other charities. Kyleigh Hill is covering 2012km for Combat Stress and Amy Manning has given up alcohol for a year to raise money for Combat Stress as well. Lisa McKinlay is trekking across the Sahara for The Undentable Trust, in memory of her husband who lost his life in Afghanistan in 2011. Another hero who sacrificed it all, I salute you. All these people are doing fantastic things for fantastic charities who help fantastic people. I have supported and will continue to support all of them.

To donate to these fantastic people please visit their pages:
Lisa McKinlay - www.bmycharity.com/MrsMC
Amy Manning - www.justgiving.com/Amy-Manning
Kyleigh Hill - uk.virginmoneygiving.com/KyleighHill-GoldChallenge
Dave Anderson - www.justgiving.com/Dave-Anderson849

And finally, if you would like to donate towards my fundraiser you can donate at www.bmycharity.com/bestofthree or if you have a mobile (who doesn't?) you can text GNRF84 £1-10 to 70070.

Let's help our wounded troops. They sacrifice so much.

Helping Those Who Risk It All

I'm sure a lot of us saw the TV series Royal Marines: Mission Afghanistan that was on Channel 5 a few weeks ago. If you missed it, the series followed a group of Royal Marines as they battled the Taliban and tried to make the area around their Forward Operating Base safe for the local population. The last programme of the series showed us 2 Marines and 1 RAF dog handler who were injured by IEDs. One lost his lower leg, the other severely damaged his foot, which may need to be amputated and the other suffered wounds so bad that he suffered brain damage and he cannot properly move his right arm, his life was saved by a fellow Marine kneeling on his neck to stop the bleeding.
This guys suffered horrific injuries trying to help a population that, in my opinion, aren't willing to help themselves. These heroes, and in my eyes they are heroes, have to live with these injuries for the rest of their lives. The charity Help for Heroes is there to help support our wounded troops and I wanted to do something to help raise money.
I have given money to buy a wristband, I buy the Eggs for Soldiers and I've always given money when I've seen them out and about, but this time I actually wanted to do something to raise money for a well deserving charity.
After some thinking I thought that I would try and do the 3 peaks, but I'm not going to rush it, I'm going to do it in 48 hours and so is my girlfriend. We will do Snowdon and Scafell Pike in one day and Ben Nevis the next day, with my dad being the chauffeur (well after all that walking the hell am I going to want to drive for 4-5 hours).
This isn't going to be easy for me, I know with my depression getting out and exercising will help and I feel good planning and training for this event, but I have other problems.
I was medically discharged from the Territorial Army in 2005 for a condition called Oesteochondritis Dessecans. In short I have a problem with the cartilage in my left knee (there isn't any), so the bones in my knee grind together when I walk. Painful. I also get back pain as well which is not going to get any better with me having to carry the majority of the weight in my bergen.
Nevertheless I still intend to climb those three mountains, my medical problems are insignificant compared to what those soldiers have gone through.

I know I have asked on Twitter many times and I will continue to ask as well. If you feel it in your heart to support me and Ambre in fundraiser in support for Help for Heroes please go to www.bmycharity.com/bestofthree and donate money. As a large supermarket chain has as their slogan, every little helps.
A poem was written by Father Denis O'Brian USMC and I wish people would think about this before they insult our soldiers.
It is the SOLDIER, not the reporter,
who preserves the freedom of the press.
And it is the SOLDIER, not the poet,
who protects our freedom of speech.
It is the SOLDIER, not the campus organiser,
who puts his life on the line
to give others the freedom to demonstrate...
And it is the SOLDIER,
Who salutes the Flag,
Who serves beneath the Flag,
And whose coffin is draped by the Flag
who protects the protesters right to burn the Flag
'Freedom is NEVER FREE'
I know I may not wear the uniform anymore, but at heart I am still a solider. Let's support our troops. They need it. As someone once wrote, "all it takes for evil to succeed, is for good men to do nothing."
And one final thing, tomorrow 2nd April 2012 is the 30 year anniversary of the Falklands war. Let us remember those brave men who lost their lives reclaiming the islands for the people who live there and hope that we do not see a repeat of that war.

Back to Work...Again.

After my first period of sickness I returned to work determined to give it a go. I don't like the job. Long hours, no social life, terrible sleep pattern and I spend the day alone. I must admit, I struggled. I was constantly tired, I burst into tears for no apparent reason and I just had no motivation what so ever.

Work must have known I was struggling because I received a phone call from them late one night. Basically they said I came back to early and not to go in the following day and they will be in touch. It felt like a kick in the teeth, I was trying to get back to work but they had other ideas. And the subject was not up for discussion.

I was on the sick once again, I wasn't happy, I felt useless, I'd had enough. I did what could only be considered a stupid thing, (I'm not going to go into details at the moment). It put my relationship with my girlfriend at risk and because of that, that is the only reason I regret what I did.

I needed help. The local health trust mental health services came to my aid, an appointment was made and I attended.
I felt the appointment helped, things were said and referrals were made. Things were moving forward.



All I had to do now was get back to work. I wrote them letters saying I hadn't heard anything from them and to get in contact with me. A few weeks later I received a letter, they wanted a meeting. I expected the worst, I thought they were going to sack me.

Well the meeting came and I was pleasantly surprised. They wanted to know what I wanted, I told them. I wanted to come back to work, I wanted to go back driving and I wanted to go part-time. They agreed to it all. Fantastic.

I returned to work the following week, I had to do 3 days of refresher training, but I was out and about driving. The assessor told me that he had no problems with my driving and that my procedures were spot on. Great.

So here I sit, in Starbucks on my day off. My refresher training complete. I am now looking forward to returning to work and getting out driving. Hopefully going part-time will give me that work/home balance that I really need. It will allow me to spend more time with my daughter and my girlfriend and I won't be too tired to enjoy the little things.

The Path I Was Unprepared For

This entry is difficult for me to write, it's a reason why I have never been happy in a job and probably never will be. I've been told that I should get over it and move on, but it's difficult and to be honest, impossible for me to do so.

Since I was in secondary school I had made a decision that I wanted to be part of the British military. I joined the Air Training Corps when I was 14, unfortunately the squadron I was in wasn't very big and activities were limited so I eventually left.
Before my GCSE's I decided that I was going to join the Royal Marine Commandos. I requested information packs and filled in forms showing my interest, I even had a phone call from their recruitment office asking about my plans when I turned 16. I had to think, but I decided I was going to stay on at school and complete my A Levels, so I would contact them again when I had completed them.

During my A Levels, which I focused on computing, I changed my decision about joining the Royal Marines, instead I would join the British Army, use my computing knowledge and get a trade. That's what I would do when I left school.
So my A Levels came along, and like everyone else in the year I filled in my UCAS form about going to university. I picked a fairly local one, got a conditional offer and was pleased about that, but I had no intention of going, I was going to enlist when I got my results from my A Levels.

Between the time of sitting my exams and getting the results I had several talks with my family. My parents are divorced had each had partners. At this time my father was the only person who was not against me joining the Army. My dad's partner at the time advocated university, as did my mum and her partner. My mum was against me joining the army, thinking I would be cannon fodder. Now here is the worst mistake I ever made, I listened to them and decided not to join the army.

I passed my exams, got a B in computing and was excepted into university. Computer Studies BSc was my subject of choice, and I set in for a 4 year course. I passed my first year and got started on my second, I then decided I was going to join the Territorial Army, that way I could continue with my studies.


I went to my local TA centre, applied and on the 20th April 2004 I pledged my allegiance to Queen and Country and became Gunner Faulkner. I was part of something. For the next few months I took part in everything I could, I went on every training night and weekend, if the Regiment went on manoeuvres I volunteered to go, I ever got to go to France for some training. They taught me to fire a rifle, they caught me fieldcraft, they taught me how to be a soldier.
I enjoyed it. I enjoyed it more than university, so my studies got left behind. I didn't turn up for my exams when they came around, instead I had made the decision to join the 'regs', The British Army, full-time. I wanted to go to Iraq or Afghanistan. I wanted to be deployed, I wanted to be out there with the other men and women that chose to defend this country. I wanted to do something with my life.
I went to the army recruitment centre and filled in the paper work, completed the BARB (British Army Recruitment Battery) test and told them I didn't want to be an officer. My scores were impressive and I was told I could take any career path I wanted. The sergeant suggested Military Intelligence or Signals, I'd had my eye on Signals, I wanted to be an Area Systems Operator, be one of the first on the ground, setting up the communications. That's what I wanted to do. That's what I chose to do.

So time went on, I was still attending the TA whenever I could and was just about to set off on my 2 weeks training at Lichfield when the unthinkable happened. I received a letter from the army saying that in my medical records I had been diagnosed with Osteochondritis dissecans, I had problems with cracking, and flaking of the cartilage in my left knee. I had completely forgotten about the condition as it was no longer causing me problems, and as such I forgot to declare it in my application to join the TA. Somehow when I joined the TA it never came up, but on applying for the regs it was noticed. As I had this condition it was determined that I was unfit for military service, in the TA or the regs and I was to be medically discharged.

To be fair to my regiment they didn't want me to go, they tried to keep me in greens. I had performed better physically then the majority of the people I was going through training with. I was sent of my 2 week training course, hopefully on passing the course I could stay in.
So I went, managed all of the physical test with no problems, performed with excellent skill with the rifle and survived the gas chamber.



Unfortunately my training took place in November, the ground was hard and icy and we had to crawl over it. My knee became inflamed and had several cuts on it. I could still walk on it, it didn't hinder me in any way but I was still ordered to see the nurse. Due to me having OCD she wouldn't let me continue and I was returned to my unit. My military career was over. I spoke with one of the captains on my return, they would sort out my discharge, I could come by and see mates I had made, but no more training. I was going to become a civilian.

I never wanted to anything else except fight for my country, I intended to do 22 years service. I wanted to be part of the best military force in the world. But that was taken from me, and that I have never really been able to live with.

If I hadn't listened to the people who convinced me to go to university I would never had been diagnosed with osteochondritis dissecans, I wouldn't have had any problems with my medical records and I would still be a soldier of The British Army. If I had been diagnosed will in the army it's possible that my medical status would have been altered, I might have had to sit behind a desk, but I would have still been in uniform.

At times I envy the men and women who serve our country, but at the same time I have a massive amount of respect for them. They put themselves in harms way to defend the freedoms we have grown to love and take for granted in this country. And it saddens me to see people displaying hatred towards those men and women.

Remember they volunteer to fight so you don't have to!



Not a day goes by where I don't wish I could still be in the army. True I may not have met the people I know now, but then again, I may have.

A final word, if you want to do something you love, do it. Don't listen to people who think you should do something else because it earns you more money or because you're good at it. I made that mistake, and it was the biggest one I ever made.

Sleep is Not for the Weak

I don't think I'm ever going to be able to get enough sleep to see me through the day. A symptom of my depression is my inability to sleep, I have difficultly dropping off to sleep, or if I do sleep it's a disturbed sleep, waking up every hour or so. When my alarm then goes off I want to throw it at the wall and just remain where I am. It's not a good way to start a day, needing to sleep.

I give myself 15 minutes from the time my alarm goes off to having to leave the house of work, otherwise I will be late and have to suffer the wrath of the managers. I do this to try and get in as much rest as I possibly can. On the downside it means I have to get my backside out of the bed as soon as that damn alarm chimes.
I don't feel myself falling asleep when driving or doing other work, it's just the constant lack of energy and the want to just lie down and try and sleep.



When out in the truck I use my break to attempt to catch up on sleep. One major downside to this is that the bunk in the cab is right next to the motor for the fridge on the trailer. It's like trying to sleep with some running a petrol lawnmower in your bedroom. It's difficult and for me usually impossible.

I hope one night I will fall asleep and wake up having had the sleep I need, feeling fantastic and wanting to get up and get out there. For the time being I'm just going to have to struggle on, until one day I run out of energy and snap (it's happened before), your mind does some strange things when you're exhausted, but that's another blog.

I'm now off to have an argument with the sandman, see if he can do his job. Unlikely.

Difficult to Work

My light duties today involved cleaning the inside of trucks. A task I hate doing, I can't even clean my own car. What makes this task worse is that the only equipment I've been given to clean the cab is blue roll and cockpit shine. No brush, no D10 (which ran out) and no whatever else is needed to clean a cab.



As there is very little equipment, plus the fact I hate cleaning vehicles (which are mostly clean anyway), I find it very difficult to get motivated to do the task.
If you've ever suffered with depression you will know that it is incredibly difficult to gather the motivation together to do the simplest of jobs. I have a very short attention span, and if it doesn't interest me there is very little hope of me sticking at it for long. Couple my attention span with my current diagnosis the want for me to sit in a truck and clean it is pretty non-existent.

I need something to challenge me, to interest me and to use my brain so I am not left staring into space. Hopefully tomorrow I will be out on the road and making deliveries, doing physical work that will keep me occupied and take my mind off my situation, temporarily at least.

Opening Up

So it was suggested to me that I start blogging to open up and get my feelings off my chest. I'm currently suffering with depression, this is the second time I have been diagnosed with it and I don't wish it upon anyone.

I am returning to work after 2 months off and even though I'm on light duties it's not picnic. Each day is a struggle and I find it difficult to try and keep myself busy.
I do have a friend that keeps me company and gives me comfort, and even though many of you may think I am sad and feel the need to make fun I truly do not care, for my friend is actually HM Armed Forces action figure by the name of Gunner Faulkner.


As well as Gnr Faulkner I also have my girlfriend, she's had to deal with me being a miserable git at times and go through some really strange moods, but she has been there for me, she will listen to my rants at inanimate objects and to people that annoy me (which is unfortunately quite a lot).

Well I'm having a bad day at the moment and my mind has gone blank, so not sure what else to write. Even though I am sure not many people will read this, I hope I can use this blog to vent my feelings and frustrations, and any other topic that I may want to blog about.