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Héloïse Goodley thought she had a dream job when she started work as a City banker.But at the age of just 27, she traded it in for four-minute meals, ironing her own bed and singing in Nepalese – all part of Army officer training at Sandhurst. There was a deathly silence while my father pulled himself together.The visit concluded with a question-and-answer session about what to expect at Sandhurst, including lots of helpful little tips like ‘bring lots of sports bras’ and featuring my favourite question of all time from a fellow recruit: ‘Can I bring my horse?’Along with new boots, I had been given an extensive packing list.We worked into the night polishing anything that could be forced to shine. Clothing had to be folded to the dimensions of A4 paper. Misdemeanours were slight (such as a trace of mud on a running shoe) but punishments severe.All my hard work would come crashing out into the corridor, pulled down off shelves, flung out of drawers or thrown from the window into puddles below. Just to speak to her we had to go through a pantomime of formalities.The cream walls were bare apart from a safe where I hid contraband chocolate given to me by my grandmother. The bed comprised a single iron frame with plain wooden headboard, firm mattress and Army-issue rough cotton sheets.Everything had to be ironed, then the bed made for morning inspection with angled ‘hospital corners’.
Slouching was forbidden, no hands in pockets, no leaning against walls. Press-ups were the favoured punishment and as the weeks went by I got quite good at them.
There was to be no evidence that the bed had been slept in – so many slept on the floor.