The Waiting Game

The last few days have had me reflecting, and biting my nails. Its taken my eldest son Harry over a year now to pursue an application into the Royal Marines. He's already a veteran, after seven years as a Grenadier Guardsman, but three years in Civvy street had somewhat dulled his fitness, as well as bored him.
                                            Ten years ago as a teenager he took the PRMC and was binned, since last Tuesday, he took it again, and it a lot harder!. The same room, the same place.He came home this evening and apart from telling me he passed the course (a ghost buried I suspect) he came out in the top five entrants out of 40 applicants, at which less than half passed. So come the new year he will begin his formal training as a Marine Commando. Things are looking up.