Sunday 8th March

I was awake at 5am, immediately knowing that the first meet-up in 22 years of the now dis-banded Royal Corps of Transport Band was 5 hours away.

The journey according to Multimap was an hour and a quarter. With contingency options ringing in my head I was tempted to 'Hurry up and wait', but that would really have meant arriving a day early.... better allow 2 hours I thought, so leave at 8!

I was kicking my heels at 9am forcing down nearly a pint of coffee at the BP station on the Hog's Back thinking that this might all be a huge mistake.. never go back said Orwell!

I lit a fag around the back, away from the pumps and over-looking Aldershot and witnessed a full blown row on the forecourt as a youngish female attempted to manoeuvre her 7.5 ton horsebox between a pair of cars and a steel roof support. The large man in the merc refused to see the need to budge which prompted Ms HB to pound on his window. I could hear her shouting 'Please' but the body language was threatening.

I wondered how my day would be, wound up by the conflagration.

In the event it was like a family reunion.

Amazed at the time that had gone by we picked up old friendships as though we'd never parted. Hands were shaken and backs slapped, the banter emerged and familiarity renewed.

And then we began to play...