Two coffee’s and it’s only 11am.
I have no idea why Richard is buying me coffee. I don’t drink it, ever! Perhaps he’s trying to fill my belly to keep me off of the beer. I’m a bit of a party animal, it’s second nature for a soldier.
The drinking got worse once I left the forces. My mental health was bad, and I wasn’t sure how to cope with daily living without regimented routine and a string of blokes who had each others backs.
Since I started getting help from SSAFA, who are an armed forces charity, life has started to turn around. I’ve got so many transferable skills from my military career and I’m starting to see how I can use them.
It helps having a mate like Richard. He’s a bit of a dick sometimes, and he does go on about curving the excesses and finding balance, but he’s a good, caring bloke and I love his sense of humour.
He doesn’t understand what it’s like to serve, to be on the front line, but I’ve learned that he doesn’t need to. He listens, he lets me talk my shit out, and he never tells me what to do. Priceless.
Anyhow enough of this gushy, soppy shit, time to finish my coffee, then fuck him, I’m on holiday and I’m gonna get so pissed he has to carry me home.