Many memories of time in the 42nd. I had always wanted to join up and be like my uncle Frank, although he was commissioned. All these years on, no regrets; very likely I would have stayed in my home town never to experience life outside its close confines. Just the other day a random memory came: remember outside the mess the tin bath full of warm greasy water in which to dip your 'irons' and mug? Not much elf and safety in those days. I was once on duty server and watched the civvie cook let his nose drip into the oil bath that cooked the fried eggs. And the Irish cpl DI, one day he had all his teeth extracted, had trouble with words of command for some time. But he did have a BSA Gold Star which I admired every day.