That last morning we went walking around where we used to live, in the hills above the town of River. Spring had indeed sprung, and walking in-between the spring flowers was wonderful. But at the back of my mind all the time was the day to follow and the reality of the new job. I tried not to let it show, but it was very hard, and so without warning I loaded the hire car and announced I was leaving.
I had left it until the evening at least; the contract for the hire car only began at seven in the evening, and so right on the button of seven I pulled away in the car. At least leaving in the evening meant the roads were empty. Or as empty as it gets in Britain. Even driving through Essex was painless, and when the roads ran out north of Ipswich and the cattle tracks began, at least the Sunday drivers were safe at home and the roads empty.
As my Mother lives in the town where my new employer is based it means I was spared the Monday morning rush hour and a lay in bed on Monday and a pleasant short trip to the yard.
I could lie and say how great it was to be back in the family home, but I won’t, and can’t. Mum and I have our problems, and no matter how either of us pretend there isn’t, we can’t overcome our past. Or I can’t. We skirted around issues, and others we hit head on.
And next morning I headed out to work, having decided that the company should put me up in a B&B, or something like it. When they said I was staying at the Royal Norfolk and Suffolk Yacht Club, and as I am from Lowestoft, and knowing how grand their clubhouse looks, I was ready for some sumptuous surroundings and luxury. But before that I had to do a days work; my first since Christmas. In reality work was not hard, just testing equipment and packing it away. And meeting the crew for our job.
I don’t think I have said where we are going on the job; Kazakhstan. Borat and all that! Yes, we are surveying the Caspian Sea, and have to get a strange ship ready for work and do the job and get all the kit back. All in a month.
This is a big step for my new employer as they are muscling in on another’s territory, and it’s a huge financial risk for them. For us it’s a huge adventure to a new country, one which until a few years ago was part of the red empire.
After that first day packing and working, myself and Marek, another engineer headed to the yacht club; and the disappointment was stunning. Inside it was plain if not old, and the rooms had nothing, just a kettle and tea bags. As well as the bed and sink. And the chef failed to tuen up so we had to venture out into the outside to find something to eat.
Opposite was the old Harbour Hotel; since renamed The Oakwood; the Bridgehouse , now called The Harbour Inn. Inside it was your typical modern themed bar come pub, but nice enough. They had beer and food; which was all we asked for. And just up the road was my old ex-best friend now restored as best friend as the whole house situation had been cleared up. He agreed to meet up with us.
He is now living with an American girlfriend; she came over a couple of months ago, and is having some trouble adjusting to life in Lowestoft after arriving from Los Angeles. I can’t imagine why. Things between them were even worse than I had feared. And the time for ultimatums had arrived. After six weeks.
In truth, beer does not help, but sometimes it seems to. He headed back to a frosty atmosphere with the promise of a meeting the next evening too.
Another day in the warehouse, packing and drinking tea followed. I was up at dawn to see the sunrise and to take some photographs. It was very special I can tell you. But the cloud soon rolled in, and then it got cold. We worked, we drank tea, we complained. That evening, back to The Harbour and more food and more beer.
Wednesday was much the same at work, but with sunshine. We worked, drank tea. Time passed. That evening, my friend who I am going to work with, Dick, and I had arranged a minor school reunion through Facebook. Just the four of us turned up, but it had been 28 years since we had all met, and it was good to see old friends again. And made the thought of the main event in September something to really look forward to. Stories were swapped of friends lost and friends long since gone. I guess the evening was going to end on a downer after the thrill of the first meeting.
Thursday we headed to Great Yarmouth to pick up some more things for the job, and a chance to look up places I used to work and live around. Time has not been good for Lowestoft of Great Yarmouth. Industry has flowered and died, and now vast expanses of industrial land lies abandoned. The place where my company has its yard is where my Dad used to work. The ship yard and slipways lay empty and rotting. Most of those I work with give a thought as to what the site used to be sued for. To me it is where my Dad did his apprenticeship and then work for most of his life until the management messed up the cash flow and over a 100 years of pride and tradition died in a month. Dad being a union man was marked out to be a trouble maker and was one of the first to go.
Anyway, now the yard lies mostly empty, slipways are clogged with flotsam, and over the river I could see Normanstone Park, where I spent many years of my younger life on swings, slides or playing football. And just over the trees at the top of the park I knew is where my Mother lives to this day, and that was something I would have to tackle sooner or pater; I mean, how could I be here and not visit.
By Friday it was becoming clear that work was coming to an end, and I began to hope that I could return to Jools that afternoon and spend a couple of weeks at home before we had to fly out to meet the freight we had packed. But, I was asked to stay on until Monday; the thought of staying in the yacht club filled me with dread, as well as nothing to do in the evening than head to the pub for food and more beer. I arranged to stay with Mother for the weekend; she was thrilled.
Me, less so.
Thursday night I met James again for a chat and to take him out for a meal. Seems like the ultimatum worked a little, and he and Miss America are now talking again, and thinking of the future. We headed to the old centre of the town, round the old market to a new curry house. All around were the signs of the credit crunch; shops lay empty, litter filled doorways, and all around was the smell of failure.
We had a great curry, and found an old fashioned boozer that sold Glenmorangie for £1.30 a tot; we had a few on the way back down.
Friday dawned bright and clear, and we left the yacht club at last. As we had done most of the work, the day was easy. We went to a chippy for cod and chips for lunch; and drunk more tea. Lots more tea.
Dick and Marek were let to go home; I was asked to come back Monday for the final packing and loading. Which meant the final question; whether to go home for a couple of days or spend the weekend with my Mum and it being Mothers Day and all.
So, I said I would spend the weekend at home with Mum. It’s not easy I can tell you; but for her it means the world. We do try to talk, but it’s hard, you know. Yesterday evening passed slowly; I went to bed early, but woke up this morning bright eyed, and so decided to head out in the hire car to take in the glorious spring day that was taking shape. We headed out across the broads to the coast to Southwold; I bought some local beer and we headed back again. Birds were in the sky, the sun was burning; all was glorious.
We then, or should I say I sat down, to watch international rugby. The final weekend of the six nations was promising to be something special; and indeed it was with Ireland winning the final game and the whole thing in the final minute. I cooked Moroccan lamb and cous cous all along with a bottle of ten year old French red
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