I’m sure I’m not the only one who- after completing a basic level  Navy Wife MOT has driven like a bat out of hell to some isolated lay by, or petrol station, or middle-of-nowhere train station, to await the arrival of the fabled sailor. 

  
Sitting there with the hot air blowers on, checking your phone and trying to look really casual, yet stunning, making sure there’s a cool song on the CD player, and trying (and failing) to not gaze into the headlights of every approaching vehicle like some lip glossed, perfumed rabbit.  

Oh yes, and if it’s early evening, in the summer, on a Friday night, in Somerset, in a lay by at the side of the A303, waving along creepy men in white vans who obviously think you are a dogger. Seriously, this actually happened to me.

Eventually, after a few texts of “where are you?!” With no reply, you give up and start playing candy crush with your mouth hanging open and/or start pulling stupid faces in the mirror whilst inspecting your eyebrows and makeup. You wonder if you’ve got time to do a fart and air the car out before he turns up. If I’m in a risk taking mood, I let rip. If not, it’s lockdown for the foreseeable future. 

Of course this is the time that the passenger door opens, and he appears before me (imagine a choir singing “hallelujah!”). 

I, of course, jump out of my skin, swear, drop my phone down the side of the car seat, blush and (if applicable) release the trapped guff. Great first impression Olive. 

He doesn’t mind of course. And I use my blush as a reason to wind down the windows, or jump out to help him get his stuff in the boot. Further creating air circulation. 

This account is not including the drop off at Official Scary Navy Gates. Where they have giant guns and think it’s absolutely hilarious to wave them around next to my open window and say things like “don’t worry love you wouldn’t get far”. And then stare at you whilst you park up. 

The fear I have felt when pulling into the wrong gate at the Yeovilton Base cannot be underestimated. 

There are three gates at Yeovilton, all along the same road. And all open and shut at seemingly random different times. I’m sure these times make perfect sense in navy land but not to me. I used to shit myself when picking Popeye up from there in our early years because the people on the gate were just plain mean and used to laugh at me freaking out, sweating, stalling the car and stammering when they waved their guns around and told me off for coming to the wrong gate. Again.

(Also why is there a gate that leads no where in both HMS Collingwood and one of the entrances in Portsmouth?! Why do they exist???)

The weirdest place I’ve waited to pick up Popeye is probably at the side of a lake in a country park in Devon (probably prime dogging territory). In the pitch black in the middle of nowhere. I could literally hear crickets. 

Where’s the weirdest place you’ve had to go meet your sailor? 

And how much did it feel like you were doing a drug drop/ were a gangster? (I bet quite a lot). 

Also if anyone else gets the heebie jeebies from picking up by Official Scary Navy Bases please tell me. I feel like a right wimp. 

Muchos love

Olive

Xxxxxxx