6 years and counting.....

The 27th June sees the sixth anniversary of my last ‘working’ day in the RAF. There will be those who will say I never did a days work during my 15 years; like many jobs, life in the RAF was months of boredom with days of excitement mixed in. However, by the time I had done 13 years, I had upset my SNCO and he had effectively killed my career with the damning with faint praise ruse. At least I knew with two years notice, and so was able to get my life sorted; well, get my head straight, as I was not a happy bunny when I found out that I was not on the promotion board but the alcoholics and philanderers who made up my SNCO’s friends strangly were. Go figure! He a short arsed prat, still in and here I am doing what I do.



What do I do?



Good question, but before we get there, it is sometimes good to look at my journey here.





I walked out of RAF Coltishall that day in 2005 and did not look back, once. And I have no regrets, we had fallen out of love with each other, that’s me and the RAF. I took the summer off as I was still being paid and drove round America for nine weeks. I did write about that, at great length in previous blogs. And then, back home on September 11th, and with thousands in the bank, I did more relaxing. And then got down to some real relaxing. I did do some driving jobs in between the relaxing, sometimes nearly a week of driving. I was joined in this relaxed life my a cat I adopted, Molly. And the year moved into winter.



I did more odd jobs, I drove for 5 weeks as a draysman, in that I delivered beer. But for a right cowboy outfit in Lowestoft. And for a pathetic wage, but it did get me working until I left over an argument about overtime; they didn’t want to pay for it, and I thought it being a legal requirement and all. Then I reported them to the local council for H&S breaches as they delayed my final pay-off.



And then I ran out of money. I mean really ran out of money. I maxed out my overdraft, and there wasn’t enough to pay my mortgage for the month. By then it was too late for them to help, and so I had to ask my Mother for help. In time I did pay her back, but for all the stuff I say about her she did come through. Then again, the only other option would have been for me to move back in with her, which did not thrill either of us.



I then fell into driving for a chemical company. That was probably the worst job I had, in that I hated every moment of it, because the thought that at any moment a lapse on my part could cause a cloud of gas, or worse. I did get into it, but began to get fed up with the management’s attitude, I believe with good reason. And anyway, I began to argue and not accept and crap.



One morning in November, I was laid off early one Tuesday morning. They said for cost-cutting reasons, but the truth was that I made it clear that I expected rules to be followed, I had joined a union and said that from the next July there was going to be no smoking in any of the offices as I would report them to the council if there was. I walked out of the yard, laughing as I had no job, little money and a huge mortgage. That day my life changed. They paid me a week, and so I did what I usually did; watched TV and drank whisky.

The next Monday I began to look for work, and the second agency I wrote to called back.



Was I a gun mechanic they asked.



Well, I was. I had done a small arms course in the RAF and could repair and service most guns. They sent my CV to a company and I waited. If you get the interview, the agency said, you’ll be offered a job.



I got the interview and listened as the interviewer talked and talked. I said yes a few times, and all seemed fine. I went home and a couple of days was offered the job which involved going to sea.



I had to go to Portsmouth to do a sea survival course, I dropped Molly off with my girlfriend in Dover. I guess we had become an item by then, it seemed to be the right thing to do. Anyway, I did the course and went home to Lowestoft to wait developments. I went into the office on Monday and Tuesday supposedly to learn something of the job, but Kevin was busy. We got to see inside a ship, and after two days went home with the news I was to join the ship in Yarmouth that we had visited the next morning.



I’d like to say I knew what I did for those 5 weeks. There was a lot of sitting around in various ports, after a few days we moved from Yarmouth to Den Helder in Holland. I drank some good beer, and I watched while the engineers did their stuff. The Engineer in Charge was a git and made my life hell, I was clearly not welcome and asked to get off. As I did the EIC did as well, and the new one was great and offered to do loads of training with me, but I was already going to leave and the next morning climbed aboard a flight back to Norwich and then back home.



A few days later, I received a call from Kevin: did I fancy a trip to Indonesia on an easy job? Duh!



So a few weeks later I boarded a flight to Jakarta, and then onto Borneo to join the ship to do more survey work in the South China Sea. This was more like it, dessert islands and volcanoes rolled past, we sun bathed, played cards. It all came to an end after one swing and I flew home feeling better. Even better was that I had to do two return trips to the same ship in various parts of Indonesia; I also went to Papua and West Timor. I saw more tropical islands, more volcanoes, more whales and had a few adventures in the ports we called in mainly due to huge cheap bottles of beer.



These trips and the downtime took me to the autumn and then back onto ships in the north sea. Oh well, and back under the control of assholes to put it bluntly. Thing is, on a ship you can’t escape and the life could be really quite unpleasant. I stuck it, but at times I don’t know how. In 2008, I moved to a ship operating out of Norway, initially out of Hamerfest, which is almost as far north you can go in Europe without getting your feet wet. Life in Hamerfest, and even further north at 72 degrees north in February is an experience. I saw icebergs, frozen harbours and 12 hour shifts on the back deck that were hell, or felt like it. I came home in April and saw green plants for the first time in nine weeks.

Back then to rejoin the ship in Bergen, which by now was high summer and hot, hot, hot. The Foo Fighters played the park next to where we docked, and so we went to see them play, it was a fine day. Back then to Blighty, I moved to Dover and Jools and I got engaged and were married in September that year.

After nearly two months away from the sea, I went back to sea in Hull.



Hull deserves all the bad press it gets, as it’s a dump, and being in dock, waiting for the work to be completed meant we saw a lot of it. The job went well, so well that after 5 weeks we were kicked off as there was no more work, which meant I was to join another ship in December and be away from home again for Christmas.

By this time I had been approached by another company, and took their extra shilling and resigned from Gardline. Kevin was furious, and tried to get me to change my mind. I told him I had been promised Christmas off and look what happened! Too many calls asking me to join ships at 24 hour notice and I had had enough.



I sold my house in Lowestoft, Jools sold her flat in Dover and we moved into the house on the cliffs. I went to Kazakhstan with my new employer to survey the Caspian Sea. It was hard work at times, and we saw some fine things and ate strange food. We came back after 5 weeks, and whilst on holiday in Paris I heard that UTEC had gone bust. I had no job. Again.



And to make it worse, my old employer refused to re-employ any of us who had left to join UTEC. We started to live off our savings.



Then, my sister-in-law offered me a job in her department at the box factory. Quality again. So, I start work, checking for quality and defects on boxes. I do OK, make friends, but it is agency work, and low paid, and the work dries up. I get kept on for a while, maybe to be a machine minder. Christmas comes and goes, and on my first day back, I am escorted from the factory saying I wasn’t what they were looking for.



Stunned is not the word, but there you go. The reasons may be different, but it still hurt to be escorted from the site, even if it was policy. I did a few days work surveying the new windfarm being built off Ramsgate, but it did not develop into anything more permanent. I search and search for work, get more and more down, and then I see an ad, I apply, I get it.



And here I am working for Vestas Offshore (UK). It’s been quite a ride, good jobs, good pay, crap jobs on minimum wages.



Those companies in full:



The Beer Wagon (tossers)



Raw Chemicals (rank amateurs)



Gardline Geosurvey



UTEC Geosurvey



London Fancy Box Company