Thursday 20th August 2020

Of course, we were in Southampton to work.

Well, not in Southampton, but on Fawley on Wednesday and on the Isle of Wight on Thursday. In order to have a full day's auditing, we had to catch the 06:00 ferry, which would mean being up at five and in the car by half past.

The alarm went off, and it was still dark. At least with the dreadful weather, there were no late night revellers outside, so no noise, and apart from being hot, I slept better. I tried to get up, got halfway upright and my feet slipped on the carpet and I fell back onto the bed, laughing.

I made it second time. Went for a shower, Terry called on the phone and by the time I reached it it had gone to answerphone. I called him back, it went straight to voicemail. I left him a message saying I was up.

He knocked at my door.

I called out I was in the shower, so up and no worries.

At twenty five past we met in the lobby, went out to his Audi A5, three litre thing, low slung and has lots of horses.

We drove down the couple of hundred yards to the quay, pulled in the waiting area, check in, and then we wait, just for ten minutes as the incoming sailing unloaded. There was only about a dozen cars waiting, so, once on board, there was plenty of room.

Up to the cabin decks, where there was a lot of empty space. We all had to wear masks, so I go up to the sun deck, ill-named as the sun was not yet up, but it was getting light.

The engine note rises, and the ferry slips out.

I know the views on both sides, but there is always something to see and photograph. We go past a large cruise ship, one of the Norwegian "jewel" ships. Tied up and no passengers. Next to it, another care transporter bringing in hundreds of new cars for those few aho are not furloughed or in fear of losing their jobs. Its cargo will join the tens of thousands of others already parked on the quayside.

It must make sense to someone.

The sun rose, and soon it lit up the scene, mainly of the oil refinery at Fawley on the starboard side.

I go down to find Terry and we try to get something to eat. Nothing cooked, and what you do buy must be eaten and drunk outside. So I buy a "breakfast" hot dog and a coffee, we go back outside and side on the aft deck in the lea of the ship to eat. Also on the right side, we could see the blade park where we had been the day before, the power station behind is still being demolished, much of the cladding has now gone, and will soon be gone.

The ferry crosses the Solent, and soon we are arriving into the mouth of the River Medina, with Cowes on both sides. We would dock on the east, the factory is on the west side. The floating bridge is broken. Again. So we will have to deal with the traffic in Newport.

West Cowes was lit by the light of the rising sun, and looked quite beautiful.

We were the first car off, so once the ferry had docked and was tied up, we were let off, down the ramp and onto the island, going up the hill, past Queen Victoria's summer house, Osbourne House, and to Newport.

Traffic was very light indeed.

We arrived at the factory at quarter past seven, before anyone else arrived, so we sit in reception, looking professional.

I know it may sound funny, but it seems I am doing an important ob, and so we are greeted, plied with coffee, second breakfast and so on, making sure we have everyting we needed.

And at eight, we got down to business.

Seven hours hard auditing passed.

We wrap up at half three, giving us an hour to get back to the ferry, we say thanks, they smile back and also say thanks, and we are gone. Back into the summer sunshine.

It was a seven mile run to the port, traffic was OK, and we arrive at four, just in time to see the incoming service dock and unload.

This time it would be packed.

We drive on, I climb four flights of stairs to the top deck so to watch as we cast off and leave the island.

I find a quiet place on one of the railings on the side, drink my cherry Coke and munch the bag of paprika crisps as we cruise towards Southampton.

We are called back to our cars, then wait to be allowed to leave. We were third car off, and from the quay it was a two minute run back to the hotel.

Job done.

We met back at seven. Terry loves 'Spoons. I hate it and its Brexit-loving owner. But he pays for a beer for me, which I accept. A pint of Peculiar.

Yummy.

We then go to find somewhere to eat. Its still busy, bust after striking out a few places, but we get an outside table at the Thai Street food place in West Quay.

In a brave mood, I order a very spicy dish, crispy pork belly with sauce that had three chilli symbols beside it.

It was hot indeed, but I make it vanish.

It was then I began to feel unwell.

Not due to that meal, but something in the previous 24 hours I guess. I had to make a quick retreat to the hotel, leaving Terry to return to 'Spoons for a "proper pint".