Blog Name: A Soldier's Tale

I don't remember too much about the day it happened. We were riding the APV out of Sangin on a road that seemed to be mostly pot holes held together with rocks the size of footballs. Dust fogged up and turned the sky brown. We bounced along, sweating like a squashed sponge, watching the desert for any sign of the bastards but, wouldn't you know it, they saw us before we saw them, and then - bang.

The APV must have turned over several times. I saw it like a slow motion movie, tumbling kit and bodies slowly slamming into bulkheads. Shadows whirled around and then swamped me and the world went all fuzzy. No pain though. Not a thing, which was weird, considering.

After a while, I don't know how long, I saw a face looking down at me, then that disappeared. More whirling shadows, clouds chasing each other across a nightmare of a sky, then a feeling of movement, like I was drifting. More faces, quite a few this time and I'm sure I recognised some of them but they moved so fast, or maybe I was too dopy to keep up. I think some of them were trying to talk to me. I got the feeling that they were telling me it was alright now. Nothing to worry about now.

I started thinking about going home. I wanted suddenly to go home, more than anything. I wanted to see my family and my little boy and I wanted to sit back and kick my shoes off and watch TV while Sharon fussed around plumping up cushions and Kevin chucked toys across the room and then maybe crawled over and clambered onto my lap so we could curl up together on the sofa and drift off into one of those perfect sleeps where the whole world just goes away and leaves you in peace.

There were a few moments when I knew what was going on, but mostly it was a daft blur of shapes and muffled noises. The only really clear moment was much later, when everything went still and the thudding noises went away. I saw Sharon, all dressed up in her very best, and she was holding Kevin by the hand. The poor little kid looked totally lost. I couldn't hear a thing but I could see him looking up at his mum and asking the same question over and over until in the end she scooped him up and walked away, shoulders heaving.

That was a while ago. They've been back since, with my parents and a few mates. They always bring flowers. I feel like a bloody florist's shop. I like seeing them though, because when they're not there, everything blurs and fades away. It's nice though. Very peaceful, very calm, and best of all, I'm home.

Hazel Blears

In the light of recent press reports about my parliamentary allowances I wish to lay out the facts relating to the capital gains tax on my many flats in London.

I live, of course, mostly in my constituency which is in Salford, a place I love and where all the people love me. Sometimes, however, I have to spend time in London, which is where Parliament is, and so I need to have lots of flats there so that I don't have to use a great big car to travel to the place where Parliament is, which would be very wrong as it would burn petrol and thus melt all of the polar ice caps.

You see, in Parliament, which is a great big building where lots of MPs like me work, there is this thing called a 'Fees Office' which is a funny sort of place where important men in nice suits tell MPs like me how to buy lots of flats and how to get money to pay for nice things to put in the flats like televisions and lovely big beds and, obviously, some yummy food to eat. So like all MPs like me I followed their advice and had a lovely time shopping for nice things for my flats. But then the Fees Office told me I really had to name one of my flats as a 'Second Home' which I didn't understand really, and with so many to choose from I did get a bit confused and I chose first one, then another one, then I chose my house back in lovely Salford, then another flat, and oh dear I got into such a tizzy I completely forgot to pay capital gains tax when I sold one of the flats, and then again on the other one. Oops!

So there you are, silly me with a brain like a feather, I just made a few silly errors which anyone could have made but now some silly little newspaper, which is a sort of book that people print every day with pictures and words in, have tried to make me look like a sort of greedy person which is really very unfair and I can tell you that anyone back in my lovely constituancy of Salford will stand up and tell you just how honest and lovely I am.

Well, now that I've cleared all that up, it's time for me to get back to my lovely constituancy where they all love me and sort out a few repairs on my car. I'm also hoping to write another chapter of my autobiography, which is a book all about me, in which I will open my heart and reveal all sorts of wonderful things about me, plus there will also be a colouring competition and free balloons.

Well, my lovely husband did advise me to keep all this anonymous but I'm not quite sure what that means. He said something about "those homicidal scumbags back in that Salford shit hole would do us both if they found out" and I'm not quite sure what THAT means either... Still, I'm sure I'll find out eventually! Cheerio!