Robin Jones's Page

"So what's the plan?" Ben repeated.

I took another long swig from the bottle, wiped my mouth and placed it on the side. "I don't fucking know Ben do I?" I snapped at him. "I'm not fucking Arnold Schwarzeneger or Chuck fucking Norris! I'm a supply teacher who lives in Birmingham! I'm not even a proper teacher! I just temp and fill gaps!" I threw the glass on the side at the wall in anger to illustrate my frustration. Ben shrank into his chair.

"There's no need to talk to me like that… Continue

"So what's the plan?" Ben repeated.

I took another long swig from the bottle, wiped my mouth and placed it on the side. "I don't fucking know Ben do I?" I snapped at him. "I'm not fucking Arnold Schwarzeneger or Chuck fucking Norris! I'm a supply teacher who lives in Birmingham! I'm not even a proper teacher! I just temp and fill gaps!" I threw the glass on the side at the wall in anger to illustrate my frustration. Ben shrank into his chair.

"There's no need to talk to me like that… Continue

Whilst I understand that it is my story I am telling you, I felt it important to include some more of Major Howard’s story. His unit’s plight on the Humber Bridge shows real heroism. And seemed to make our worries pale in comparison. the following extract from his book, carries on the story of how they were to get off the Humber Bridge:

Sgt Walsh was desperately trying to reach command. He had been informed that the Royal Navy was attempting to send a destroyer down the Humber to relieve… Continue

I threw myself into the body of Erica’s attacker, bringing him down to the ground. As I got up, I noticed his eyes, cold, white and dead. Flecks of blood hung from his lips, and pus seeped from a cut on his cheek. His head lolled lazily, I’d obviously startled him by rugby tackling him down to the ground, but he soon shuffled back up to his feet. His movements were slow and uncoordinated. His sinewy skin had almost a leathery look to it, and it was grey and ashen, long since dead. I pushed… Continue