I feel that I was particularly ‘down’ on the RAF and I really shouldn’t be, I did take part in some brilliant things. I went on a number of ‘expeds’, travelling at RAF expense for community things like clearing ditches, building dry stone walls, decorating a disabled kids holiday home etc.. then there were the walking holidays to the Peak District, Lundy Island, oh! and skiing in the Cairngorms. There were parties for everything and after I was commissioned there were Summer Balls and Winter draws, excuses to wear a long dress and enjoy everything.
The life was good and there was always something going on, I organised charity events, played the odd bit of sport, travelled and met loads of interesting people. This all set me up for my attitude to getting stuck in and doing what I can, which can only be a good thing. That and the mad dry sense of humour. After the RAF this is what I missed the most, when I left I felt I’d lost my home, friends, community, everything in one fell swoop.
I got a job in West Yorkshire, I was still only 26 and I was taking on a new challenge. I lived in the most awful bedsit, I had nothing and was broke but it was OK. I’d been taken on as a Manager by a Scottish electronics company, helping them to set up a new build warehouse and the roll out of shops across England. I was so out of my depth I felt like it shone from me like a beacon, but others didn’t seem to see it. I had a massive amount to learn about how to deal with civvies, they just don’t follow orders. I was taken under the wing of two lovely ladies called Marie and Val, they taught me loads about how to deal with people and even took me out on the town a couple of times, but I was very standoffish and didn’t really join in.
I don’t know how to explain it, I’m not unfriendly, but I overthink every encounter.
Other person: how do you fancy coming out with us?
Me thinking: Oh that would be lovely, but where would we go, what do I need to wear, do I have anything that would do, who would be there, do I drive and not drink, or drink and not drive, if I don’t drive will I be able to get home, what if I lose the other people what will I do, how late will we stay out, I have work tomorrow, what if I do something stupid how will that affect my job, if they drink will they say something that will ruin our work relationship?
Me: that would be nice but I’m tired, I’ll see you all tomorrow
Anyway, after the first year the company went bust, should have known it was coming when Suppliers started turning up asking for their goods back. I had no idea what was going on, I’d never experienced “Receivership” and I thought I’d have to find another job and move again, my heart was pounding all the time and I was incredibly anxious. On the bright side the company was bought out and continued to operate, on the downside they slimmed down the management team and increased what I had to do. Again, not a clue, but just carried on, as you do. I worked my socks off, starting early, finishing late, reading up on stuff in between, I learned everything I could. This was all pre-mobile phones and mass social media, even PCs were in their infancy, you wouldn’t believe the things we actually used as a business.
I bought my first house! It was a two up, two down, mid terrace new build that cost the grand total of about £40K, I just checked and the one next door sold last year for £170k!!. I had no money left after that so I had a second hand sofa, and a garden dining set I my dining room, a mattress on the floor and the only proper things I bought were curtains. I remember trying to buy a bed and when I was looking at the possibility of HP they asked whether I had a man who would stand as guarantor. Lovely, those were the days weren’t they. I waited until I had the cash to buy one outright.
Looking back I can see how I ground myself down, I had zero social life, nobody to lean on, and I worked every hour I could. I was visiting my parents one weekend when I started feeling poorly, I woke up on the Sunday morning looking like ‘Moon face’ from an Enid Blyton book, round and red and puffy. My knees and ankles were swollen and my feet were so painful I couldn’t walk, I crawled across the room to get help and ended up just laying down and calling for the dog to make noise and wake my Dad. Over the morning I felt a little better and against my parents advice I insisted on returning home because I had work the next day. On the Monday morning I could barely move, I called the surgery and a doctor came out to the house. He took one look at me and called an ambulance. It took a while to get to a ward and they dosed me up on massive amounts of steroids to combat the damage being done. I was diagnosed with Acute Sarcoidosis, which affected my lungs, there were other effects but I wouldn’t find out about those for a few more years. I was in hospital for a week and off work for a few months, I was on high dose steroids for nearly a year and my weight ballooned, I was miserable and poorly and work started trying to replace me. The illness is relatively uncommon and quite rare in a young white female, so my Consultant quite often had students come in to my check-ups, it was mortifying, stripping down and being prodded and poked with so many people standing around. At the end of a year of being ill and being man handled, of being replaced at work and left feeling rather alone, I started looking for a job down south. By the time I left Yorkshire I was 30 years old, no longer badly in debt and had a BMI of 32 (chubs). I’d changed a great deal, grown a lot stronger but I’d built some deep walls to protect myself from people and situations.
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