By: Blonde Two
Lots of things were new at Ten Tors this year. New routes, new registration system (well I think it was a system) and some new team numbers. It was odd really, that they were still called team numbers, because none of them actually had any numbers in them. Our poor 35 team had a rather unfortunate two letter code which sadly, I can’t (for reasons of disguise) tell you and the 55s wasn’t that much better.
I learnt very quickly that, when dealing with the army, if you wanted to be taken seriously you had to use the phonetic alphabet when giving them your team’s code. I am a tiny bit in awe of men in green uniforms and knew that there was a risk that my Blondeness would lead to a mis-choosing of phonetic representations. For example, the Blonde phonetic alphabet might start like this … Angel, Blonde, Car Keys, Dimpsy, Eggnog … Imagine how awful it might have been if I had got things this wrong. Which is probably why, if you had been listening closely in the hangar at Okehampton Camp, this year, you might have heard a Blonde whispering “Charlie, Delta”, “Lima, Onion no! Oscar” (other team numbers are available) before approaching the men-in-green desk.
One fun thing about the phonetic alphabet is that you can Sierra Whisky Echo Alpha Romeo without your blog reading mum or Aunty noticing. Look … Bravo Oscar Lima Lima Oscar Charlie Kilo Sierra! Actually, have just remembered that said Aunty is very, very good at all things signalling and radio (oops!)
You may like to admire a particular piece of Blondeness that occurred while I was sat on the loo earlier. I was saying my own and Blonde One’s phonetic initials out loud and actually found myself surprised that they began with the same letters as our names. It has clearly been a very, very long week!
I can’t decide whether or not your location combined with your woolgathering, referred to in the final para, don’t add up to something erotic or something poignant. Possibly both, though erognant isn’t it. Perhaps you might consider an irregular sub-blog entitled Thoughts From The Throne Of Easement. Many claim that time spent there has led to their finest work. Slightly closer inspection of that claim reveals an ambiguity that is probably unintentional.
You were right not to irritate the military. On occasion squaddies can be distinctly humourless. Take this procedure required during guard duty:
Guard: Halt, who goes there? Friend or foe?
Anon: Friend.
Guard: Step forward friend, and be recognised.
The Anons who do step forward, especially if female, often live (sometimes die) to regret it. Guards regard this exchange as a legitimate prelude to an act carrying a multitude of names, all rather filthy. Moral: always carry a Walther PPK.
-. — .-. – -.– -. — .-. – -.– , -. .- ..- –. …. – -.–, 🙂
P.S. I remembet there being much joviality among the Wrens learning the Morse Q-codes, when they discovered that QRM was listed as “I am being interfered with”.
Regrettably, I notice that this norty machine has run the three dashes signifying O together into one long dash, thus destroying the world’s finest communication system!
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Now it has dumped all my spaces between letters & words.
. . // . – – /. . / . – . . /. – . . // – . / – – – / – // – . . . /. //
– . . / . / . . – . /. / . – / – / . / – . . //
Sorry for making a mess of your lovely website dear Blondes.
Well that took me longer to translate than it might have done when I was younger. “We’ll not be defeated” indeed although, am so tired at the moment that I am a bit deflated!