[Farmer John]

I was back for a further far East trip, all my school chums were sweating for A levels or wondering what to do. I was on the bridge for the whole trip, feeling great but with one testicle less than most and a tentative bill of health. Who cared, keep your head down and bash on, just coming up nineteen and scarcely a thought in my head, wandering about on the bridge, looking around for whatever, noon coming up and my sights worked up as far as I could, nothing to worry about. Next port Hong Kong perhaps (can't remember now), sun shining, in your whites and a cut above the world.

The old man is on the bridge, noon sights probably, wait, he is coming my way.

"Everything all right, Shaw?" "Yes Sir"

Hrrmpph, Hrrmpph.

" Sure about that?" "Yes Sir"

"Well, write and tell your Mother at the next opportunity, I have just spoken to her and you haven't written"

I crawled under a convenient plank, about .5mm high. My Mum was a very forceful person and she had contacted the company and she had spoken to someone who had rousted the Old Man, and he had passed on her concern. Forcefully.

For years I told this as a tale of how Mums can be overbearing and how silly it all was, but I look back now with abject shame that I was such a silly little wanker. I had been very ill, she had driven me to radio therapy treatment every day for 3 months and watched me vomit two to three times on the half hour drive back (we had our special stopping places) and continue so for the rest of the day, she had looked after me so well that I never really thought of myself as ill, she had seen me off for a last make or break trip, and I couldn't even write to tell her I was fine. Then you get your own children.

Mum, I am so sorry, Mum, I was an inflated little tit and Mum, thank God you only did it once.

Pride comes before a fall.