I'm home.

I am home at last. I am currently taking some leave and reacquainting myself with Sharpe Jr, Mrs Sharpe, and the dishlickers. I am revelling in just the simple things, like constant power and running water. I have only asked Mrs Sharpe whether the water is running once when going to have a shower. I am also slowly adjusting to the idea that I’m home for good (well, for the foreseeable future anyway), and not going back when my leave finishes. I am also getting over that dislocated sensation of waking up in my own bed and not being sure where I am.

I won’t blog in any detail about the deployment. Not that any particular aspect was so harrowing that I don’t want to discuss it, but because I want to leave it alone for a while and just focus on being back at home. Suffice to say that if I have any sway in the matter, the next time I deploy will not be as part of a large international organisation mired in its own bureaucracy and ineptitude that allows civilians to run operations from in-theatre for purely political aims that ignore the military situation. Enough said.

Many thanks to all who send messages of support and especially to those who sent care packages, the constituents of which were put to very good use. In particular, the pre-dawn traditions on ANZAC Day would have been sorely lacking without them.