microblog · @dave_norwich · civilian · 22 January 2026, 21:30
Twenty-two years the lads from Lakenheath have drunk in my pub. Stag dos. Two weddings out the back. I have got a squadron patch behind the bar older than my daughter.
Tonight: four in, one pint each, gone by half nine. Nobody said a word about any of it and everybody thought about nothing else.
I do not know who I am supposed to be angry at and I am too tired to work it out.
Four days no contact. That is not unusual. It is not unusual. I am typing it so I believe it. The unusual part is that the other wives are also typing it.
People asking me what the lockout means practically. It means every sortie now flies from Maine. Round trip over three thousand miles, in Arctic air, to put fuel in one fighter over Greenland. You burn more getting there than he burns on station. That is not a…
Parent night last night. Not one person asked me about the season. Eleven people asked me whether I thought there was going to be a draft. I am a football coach. I do not know why they asked me. I think they just needed to ask somebody who was standing still.