The very first job I ever had was as a helper and DJ on a mobile roller skating rink in 1983. You’ll be unsurprised to learn that lasted less than a year and was followed by a myriad of other jobs. I was a potter, a taxi driver, a truck driver, a picker in a cold store, a gardener and a milkman. I also spent a significant part of each year just travelling and enjoying myself.
Financially, I rarely had any money other than that required to get from one week to the next and frequently lived at home with my parents where I stayed on a ‘will work for food basis’. in the 1990s I moved with my soon to be good lady wife to Stornoway in the Outer Hebrides, took on a mortgage, went back to college and eventually started work for real at nearly 30 years of age. Full time work in an offshore oil fabrication yard was always uncertain at the best of times and less than a year after graduating from college I found myself unemployed again, only this time it wasn’t just good lady wife and I, we’d been joined by eldest daughter and boy wonder was on the way too.
After picking winkles on the beach for cash and trying my hand as a creel fisherman’s helper, in desperation I caught the early morning ferry and went to Inverness in search of work. It was there I spotted an advert for a Royal Navy Civilian Sailing Instructor in the window of the Armed Forces Careers Office. I went in to enquire and was promptly deemed not suitably qualified. As I turned to leave a young Corporal dressed in light blue asked if I’d ever considered joining the RAF.
It turned out that not only was the RAF actively recruiting, but I had enough qualifications and could just sneak under the upper age limit if I applied immediately. I was ushered in to the back to watch a compulsory video and two weeks later was interviewed by a Flight Lieutenant in the Stornoway Job Centre. I was assessed as suitable and could also join directly as an Officer. Within six weeks I had attended the Selection Centre at RAF Cranwell and had an offer of a full commission in my nervous hands.
Over the subsequent sixteen years I was more or less very happy in the RAF and lived in some fantastic places; however, as I got towards the end of my time my frustrations with the sheer waste of resources and the level of bureaucracy in the military grew. By this time eldest daughter and boy wonder had been joined by youngest daughter and we again had a mortgage.
As I vented my frustrations I noticed that my civilian friends found it hard to believe some of the stories I told them about military life and my military friends found it hard to believe my stories of home life. With this in mind and little else to occupy my days, I decided to keep a diary for one year. This book is the result. It’s a mix of life in the RAF, life at home with three teenagers and all my mixed up weird thoughts and views on anything and everything.
I didn’t complete an entry every day and what you’ll read is exactly as it was written at the time; therefore, the tense does change from time to time, the grammar probably wouldn’t stand up to much scrutiny and I’m willing to bet I’ve missed the odd typo or made a few spelling mistakes. Hopefully, you’ll forgive me on the basis that what you’ll get is a flavour for my feelings at the time and you’ll enjoy what my friends call ‘the world according to Mikey’.
You can get a copy of it from Amazon at this Link. Buy it, it’s revealing, funny and you’ll love it.