Wednesday 8th January 2020

I audit therefore I am. An auditor.

Apparently.

In fact I am auditor in three standards. Apparently.

Which is why I am at the end of the UK's longest cul-de-sac, where nuclear submarines are born.

But I don't work with nuclear submarines, or boats as submariners call them, no, I work with wind turbines, and I am here to conduct an audit.

I am awake at six, so put the radio on quiet and just lay in the dark listening to the traffic. And seagulls.

OK, time to get up and have a shower, all to be ready to meet Pete for coffee and breakfast. He turns up, we chat.

And off we go.

I get to sit in his car, an overpowered Audi that sounds like it has a nest of very angry hornets in its exhaust. It roars and pops as we lurch down the street, past the submarine yard and to the docks beyond, where there is a good half dozen offices and warehouses for the various offshore wind farms.

We just have to find the right one.

After trying to get into two wrong ones, we are pointed to the right compound, and sneak in behind someone with a pass card.

We sign in and go up the the office, introduce ourselves, and you can see the look of fear in the site assistant's eyes. We do our best to allay their fears, introduce ourselves, and confirm that we are there to help.

Honest.

Ad we get under way. I won't bore you with the details. But I am drawn all day to the windows and the sunshine outside, thinking of the shots I take in the Lakes just over the distant hills. But not this time.

We wrap up just before six, shake hands and walk back to Pete's car.

ROARRRRRRRRRR says his car as the engine starts.

Its 400 or so horses get us back to the hotel at 30mph, and we can almost hear Abbey Road playing in the hi-fi. Thanks, hornets.

Half an hour later we meet in the bar for a drink before walking in search of an Italian place we had been told about.

Barrow is down on its luck, but there is growth, there are big box stores and drive throughs as well as a multi-screen cinema. All high streets look like Barrow's.

I can confirm the restaurant was excellent. We dine on a starter of ribs, followed by garlic and chilli king prawn linguini, washed down with a bottle of red.

We have a limoncello to clear our pallets.

We have another.

Oh these are going down well as we order thirds and fourths.

And fifths.

We might have had a sixth, but thats a bit blurry.

We walk back to the hotel, and have a nightcap of a spiced rum and coke. And then another.

Pete is to have one more, but I am done. Off to bed, and to fall into a deep, deep sleep.

I suspect I snored. A lot.