Pontious,
When I got onto the Sqn it was a crownex, not a stablex - that had fallen from grace.(By the way, the stables is no longer a drinking hole and the Culbin sands has been demolished)
Other memories are:
Compo sausages cooked in foil trays - the excess fat of which was wiped over the galley floor when the stick monkey had applied excessive power during a manouver and not warning us, resulting in the contents of the oven sliding onto the floor.
Stn cdrs driving into guardroom walls.
Dinghy drills outside the harbour followed by beers in the Harbour!
Having to carry heavy crew boxes stuffed with out-of-date food to make the rations monies go further.
Having to carry heavier crew classified bags - even when the GSU had forced us to memorise their contents.
GSU's annual vists - looked forward to with lesser anticipation than a visit to the dentist
Three day GDT when we were allowed to convert live ammunition into waste brass and breathe copious quantities of CS gas.
The introduction of the Mile and a half run, where at least one sergeant who was OS for that day, turned up in No1s, walking the distance nonchelantly while smoking and several masters hiding behind the changing rooms.
Blue-light taxis back to camp by pleasant RAF policemen.
Tapestries.
Everyone having 4 - yes 4 - annual leave warrants to claim rail tickets or motor mileage for leave journeys anywhere in UK without audit.