Young sailors often get into spots of bother due to a little alcohol here and there. I, of course, am no exception to this ancient maritime law.

A couple of examples illustrate the point (I'm sure if I rummage through my memory banks I can find a few more).

The first finds me at RNAS Yeovilton (my first proper draft after training) -now a fully fledged, highly responsible medic. Hmm? Its Friday and time to have a run ashore with the lads. We head for Yeovilton, a couple of miles from the base.

A great evening is had by all. I spent the evening imbibing and fleecing the locals on the pool table. A winning streak sees me the recipient of many free pints of beer. Closing time sees me leave the pub somewhat later than my mates. Worse for wear I determine to walk back to the base. Only a couple of miles after all!

Around 10 hours later I make it. Roger Bannister - you can relax. This amazing feat of endurance and speed is probably due the the fact that I spent the walk taking one step forward and two steps back! With the occasional fall into the fields alongside the road. I'm not even sure how I managed to get through the gate without incurring the wrath of the officer of the watch. Ah well , we live and learn. Well....perhaps not.

My second example finds me on another run ashore. This time in Plymouth, another Friday night. The details are a little dim, however, the end to the night is very clear in my mind. I am slowly waking up, head pounding, cold and surrounded by noise. As my consciousness clears, I realize that I am not where I should be, that is in my bed back at the hospital quarters. I am, in fact, quite high up a fir tree in the middle of a roundabout in the centre of Plymouth. The noise is that of traffic and Saturday morning shoppers!

I casually climb down from the tree, drawing curious glances from the locals, and gingerly make my way back to the hospital to get some more kip, in my bed this time.