Nancy

Nancy lives halfway up a very steep hill in our village. The area is outstandingly beautiful with views across a popular walk alongside the stream in a valley called Parc Shady. A delightful lady she helps look after a mutual friend who became a widower a couple of years ago. Kindness, caring, epitomised. 

How the tale of "Luigi" started.
As a young lad I went to Grammar School in Aylesbury, I was required to wear uniform including a school cap. This placed me apart from the other lads on the council estate. Most days I was belted around and my clothes covered in blood, mostly from my nose. Consequently I have a visceral hatred of bullies.
I jumped ahead a wee bit when I wrote a few weeks ago about my new “friend” Luigi. He had been back-trooped to us and was placed in ‘my’ room. There were 10 beds, 10 lockers etc and 9 of us were hard working and keen. Luigi was lazy, he was a big lad at 6’ 2” and many stones heavier than me. He thrived on the appearance of a hard man but did not have the mental wherewithal to back it up. 
At 0600 each morning a bugler would play reveille outside our accommodation, we were usually already up, cleaning our rooms, the hallways and heads (Bathrooms) ; shared duties between the four rooms we occupied. As a Diamond, or section commander, it was my job to explain the various tasks to Luigi and inform him where he was meant to clean. At 0600 on his first morning he continued snoring, wrapped in his bedding. Mistake. I stated earlier that I dislike bullies, occasionally it becomes necessary to reverse the psychology of the bully onto the bully. He thought he could beat me in a fight. My friends knew otherwise, they had seen me box in the RM championships at Portsmouth. 
At 0601 I shouted at him to get out of his pit, I repeated this about 10 seconds later. Suddenly his bed was on it’s end, the mattress, bedding and Luigi crushed against the wall. When he finally got himself untangled he made a move in my direction. I stared him down. The next morning, same routine. Bed up against the wall, one very uptight useless bastard on the deck. Third morning, bugler plays the second note of Reveille and Luigi was on his feet. Result. 
Our final exercise on Dartmoor was a real mind bender; five days of hard marching with loads, nights patrolling then the same again. On the final morning the rain was still torrential, my section was ready, saddled up, weapons and bodies clean. Luigi was still in his sleeping bag wrapped in a cape. My long-term plan was about to reach it’s denouement. Our section Corporal approached, just as I started raining my fists and boots into Luigi’s sleeping bag. He could not escape as he had stupidly done the zip up to the top. All I did was grab the zip, preventing his escape, then ploughed into him. Cpl Bob Tranter stood a few yards away.
“Problem Parry?”
“No Cpl, just helping him get up!” 
We set off, Luigi had to carry all his kit in his arms dropping bits, trying to put his boots on, hungry, wet and very angry. That was when we were jumped by Marines from 41 Commando and taken away for interrogation. But that’s another story………

Luigi, the battle continued.

Extra, Nancy.
This is for those who never knew that, eg Me.