'That's so wrong mate, I'd put a complaint in for sure - how dare he!' cried my friend down the phone when I told him my bad news.
I'd been 'grounded' which, as a pilot, meant that I wasn't allowed to fly again until I'd been further assessed by a doctor.
I'd just had my annual aircrew medical and there had been a problem; I was over the maximum boarding weight for the aircraft by a few pounds. The doc said that he would have to inform the Squadron Boss and I knew what that meant.
But unlike my angry friend, I wasn't mad.
I was actually quite calm.
For the previous year I had been flying the jet part-time and was spending most of the month in an office away from the base. I was living a sedentary lifestyle in the middle of a vibrant city and one that was encouraging me to make poor choices. I would regularly eat out - the bars and restaurants were where I could find a break from the isolation that defines such a solitary existence.