Who am I kidding?

A couple of days later I was sitting in my doctor’s surgery. As I summed up my story to the GP he went through the usual basic checks, blood pressure, listening to my heart and lungs, and inspecting my eyes with a small torch. He admitted that he saw no glaring irregularities in function and told me that he would refer me to a neurologist at a local hospital in the first instance. I gave him my dates to avoid, as I had planned an entry into a NATO shooting competition in Poland the following week, and had made arrangements to join Francesca and the Children in Rome immediately following that.
This would be the second time I had taken part in the Klub Żołnierzy Rezerwy LOK Snajper competition (http://snajper2004.tripod.com/album/) in Poznan. The first event I attended was a fun filled weekend of shooting by day and drinking by night with the US Marines, Polish police, German navy, and Czech army to name but a few. If anything could be judged by the last event, this event would be an alcohol-fuelled whirlwind of small arms fire, good company, and laughing until your sides split. Pity about the food and weather though.
However, the following weeks excursion to Rome would be a more sedate affair. No ‘pissed-up’ squaddies, old Bill, jarheads, and Jack smelling of gunpowder and old spice. I just had to be on my best behaviour for the future mother in laws sake. Damn, I missed those guys already. Nevertheless, it was guaranteed that the food and weather would be great, which was some consolation. Perhaps this was what I needed, a break away from the stresses and strains of London, and the burgeoning property UK market.