I didn't need to shave when I joined up...
. Once every two or three days did just fine. Complexion like a baby you see.
On the boots/shoes, they seriously discussed the meaning of the wording on the med chit. 'Does excused service footwear mean just for the affected foot or not.' 'I don't know if there's a precedent for that'. etc etc. Odd fellows but probably very good to their children.
I had to laugh at the 'excused parades' chit. For some reason known only to God I was part of the station parade team at 30MU, Sealand. I certainly didn't volunteer but being fairly tall probably looked the part of a lean and mean tech. Photochromatic spectacles had just come out (or 'panchromaticall' as my dear old Mum used to call them) and you can't wear sunglasses on parade, yes? Being a spectacle wearer I spent a fair wedge on these new, parade dodging specs. Come the next bone crushingly boring rehearsal for something or other I slyly donned them. They did what they said on the tin and went dark, just as the parade FS was demonstrating a move that he obviously found interesting but no one else did. He turned to face us and saw me, there was a moments silence and he said 'Bet those cost a few bob Dave' and carried on. Swine.
Which reminds me of when I was at the previously mentioned Newton and there was a freedom of Radcliffe parade or something of the sort. It was in a cricket pavillion I seem to remember which is one of the stranger places I've paraded but there was beer and tucker for after so I didn't mind doing this one.
The bayonets and scabbards had obviously lingered on the store shelf for many years as the bayonets were extremely stiff to withdraw. So come the day, we are arranged before the local high and mighty when the order 'Fix bayonets' is squawked. I gave mine an almighty heave from behind and the whole thing broke free from my webbing belt, the bayonet with scabbard firmly in place. No time to faff around I would break the flow if I tried to do anything so I stuck it on the rifle.
Around came the mayor smiling and nodding as they do until he came to me when an surprised expression came upon his visage. 'Yes' I thought 'We all know what's wrong mate, let's just move along'.
It wasn't until afterwards that his wife whispered in my ear 'Do you know your flies are undone?' I looked down and the shocking truth hit me, Front row, her Maj's finest NCO, scabbard on rifle and flies undone. Well they shouldn't have asked me to do bloody parades should they.