[troggi]

When I was in six weeks basic training at HMS Raleigh, back in 1986, one Saturday morning we were woken by the standard pipe over the tannoy;
"The sun has got his hat on
Hip-hip-hip-hooray
The Sun has got his hat on and he's coming out to play..."
I heard the sound of the instructor's swagger stick as it banged on metal side lockers coming closer but I remained in my bunk.

The instructor, PO Garvey if memory serves, looked at me with a pained expression as if to say "What stupid excuse will you come out with this time?" He actually said "Get out of your pit, Davison."

I said "No" quite calmly and he asked "why not?"

I then had to explain to him, and all my younger colleagues (I was the oldest of the entry at 26 years old), that I had just been dreaming of an intimate meeting with Samantha Fox in a hay barn that was so realistic that I had to use my olfactory senses to make sure that it was not a fact and that modesty prevented me temporarily from removing my cover. I also inferred that the the bromide tea must have stopped working as I did not have the slightest attraction to Ms Fox.

The PO grinned and said "Well, when the swelling has subsided you can put on sports gear and run six times round the football pitch before getting changed for breakfast!"

I do hope this counts!

Luv 'n' 'ugs

troggi