Well, tomorrow is the big day - the Passing In Parade. I'm sooo excited I can't tell you! I've been like a small child in the run up to Christmas this week. Everyone who knows me must be sick to death of me exclaiming how excited I am at every opportunity! I can't help myself, it's part of the job description when you're a mum. I'm a bit nervous too because I've never been to one of these events before, even though a very good friend of mine was in the RAF for about 20 years, so I don't really know what to expect. I'm also going alone as John couldn't have the time off work and someone had to take the boys to school and collect them at the end of the day, bless him! Everyone else will be there in couples or families and I'll be on my little Jack Jones. Ah well, can't be helped. I'm sure I'll still enjoy it and I'm just really grateful that I've been allowed the time off work to attend.
Connor rang a couple of days ago to finalise arrangements for tomorrow and just happened to ask me if he'd mentioned his foot at all. Hmm, I thought to myself. What's he done now? Well, he'd twisted his foot! Doing what? Goodness only knows, but ligament and tendon had become intertwined somehow which resulted in some sort of injection and an untwisting of the offending parts! He assured me that he'll still be participating in the parade tomorrow thankfully but I'll bet the army are glad to see the back of him for a week - he's caused them nothing but trouble since he arrived!
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