Awake.

I sit awake, with a sticky, dry taste in my mouth, as I wait for the phone to ring. It should be ringing, in approximately 4 mins, a sergeant calling me to return to camp, to be there in 2 hours. A recall. Usually such things are supposed to catch you by surprise, but in our beloved armed forces, or at least in my squardon, information has a habit of leaking out. Everybody knew the call would come at 4am, in fact we were encouraged to book in last night so that we would not have to take a cab down when the recall came.

As should be apparent, I ignored that particular piece of advice, just like how I ignore a million others. Now I sit, having taken a 3 hour nap, contemplating whether I should go ahead with my plan to blade to camp. It sounded really fun, but now that I'm sitting awake at 4am in the morning, that plan does seem a lot less attractive. I'll sweat, and would have to bathe again when I get to camp. I would be tired. My legs are aching, still bruised from my little foray into beach rugby.

The phone's not ringing.

Knock, knock, knocking on heaven's door .. yeah .. yeahh.

Each breath hurts, a dull ache in the middle of my chest.

Yeah, I'm happy too.

I'll sweat it out. I'll blade to camp.