Old Soldiers Never Die

Every year about this time, when the cherry blossom hangs heavy on the trees, a trio of old soldiers comprising a Major and two National service ORs from Edinburgh make up a scouting party to reconnoitre the badlands of Aberdeenshire and make inroads to the Gordon museum in Aberdeen, there to reminisce with military men about their experiences in the jungles of Malaya during the unrest there in the 50s.

Today is the day of the foray, but with one veteran on compassionate leave, it will only be the Major and His Lordship *who go over the top, unarmed save for their bus passes. There will be no armoured vehicle transportation, they will travel incognito on the Gold Bus.
No NAAFI meals either, served in mess tins as they sit in a muddy dug out in the jungle; no, there will be commissioned service in a dining room with china plates and starched white napkins.

Meanwhile back at headquarters, the commander in chief, (me, who else?) will keep the home fires burning and catch up with the larger campaign details ie house keeping and provision requirement.
‘Haud me back’ as the saying goes in these parts.

*His Lordship in civvies without campaign medals, ready for the off