Page 8 - Stan Frank Diaries

April 11th
Fred Mulley, Harold Wilson’s Minister of Defence, is visiting the School of Electronics just
up the road. He’s famous for falling asleep at the Queen’s Jubilee Review …..and for being a
prick. Harold is famous for his raincoats and pipe….. and for being a prick. He is scrapping
TSR2 whatever that is.
In case Mr Mulley chooses to drop by, we were detailed to paint the concrete blocks down by
the main gate. The smell of wet paint is everywhere …. as are the drips.

April 12th
Fred Mulley didn’t turn up. Must have fallen asleep.

April 19th
Got a sore arse. I’d like to know which complete prat at Izal decided toilet paper should be
shiny on one side? My mum tears the Daily Sketch in squares and hangs them from a hook in
the bog - loads better.

April 20th
Detailed for Fire Picket. I hoped to ride on a Green Goddess. No such luck. Instead our fire
tender turned out to be two cart wheels with a fire hose wrapped around the axle. There was
what looked like an old ammo box on top which contained the brass nozzles.
The first thing we learn is that brass nozzles work better when brasso-ed.
Later we unwrapped the hose and connected it to a hydrant by the Gym. Someone shouted
‘water on’ and Bartlett went skywards. Someone shouted ‘water off'’ and Bartlett returned to
earth. Bartlett’s back in MRS.

April 21st
Watched a Science documentary in the TV room.
Some bloke called Raymond Baxter said engineers were developing a device to remotely
switch TV channels. It’ll never catch on. Who in the whole f*cking world is too idle to walk
the three steps required to change a TV channel - there are only two for Christ sake.

April 24th
2 Div camp. We travel to Wales by train. We pinch the tea-pots from the Buffet car.
Robbo thinks they may come in handy. Never know when we might need a brew.

April 25th
Not sure precisely where we are in Wales but there are a lot of sheep. Taff Evans is in his
element. It was said a ewe was seen slipping into his tent after dark.
A six-seater thunder box turned up on a 3 tonner. We had to dig a bloody big hole. I’m not
comfortable about crapping in front of mates. I went in the bushes.

Issued with our compo rations. Nobody wanted the tinned processed cheese. I thought the
sausage and beans was essence. There again my mother wasn’t the world’s best cook. Even
Uncle Ron complained.
Wagstaffe took over cooking duties. Waggers may be a Bomhead but he can’t f*cking cook.
Washed our mess tins in the river Usk.

April 26th
We have to climb something called Pen y Fan. It sounded innocuous enough but turned out to
be a f*cking big hill.