So we were woken up again this morning at four by Sulu caterwauling his paws off trying to convince us that is was, in fact, breakfast time. We have new coffee machine that we can program to grind and then brew the beans, and that goes of at six which is breakfast time for puddy tats.

As what has become familiar this week, the day dawned bright but frosty; and today was the day to load up the car with several loads of boxes and fill the second of our self-storeage lockers.have heard it said that self-storeage is nature's way of tellingnus we have too much stuff. That is maybe, but we were being slowly hemed in by an ever gorwing army of boxes that were leaving us less and less living space. So, it was with some relief to put the first load in the back of the Polo and head off. First call was the castle to watch the sun come up and take pictures. It's a bonus to be up at the crack of sparrers. The sky was a roit of reds and pinks as the sun poked its head over the horizon, and I got some great shots of the keep silouetted against the rising sun.Next up we went along to the NT place on the cliffs, and watched as a ferry headed out to France into the sun. It was glorious I can tell you. We had the place to ourselves, but down below the ferry port was already busy with many comings and goings.

We took a deep breath and headed to Tescos to grab a few essentials; normally on a Saturday morning, doubly so at nine in the morning, is usually heaving with people. But this morning it was very quiet, and once we had got the cat food and kitty litter and found one of maybe half a dozen empty tills, paid and left.Once we had deposited our boxes in the storage place, we saw a greasy spoon parked in amongst the parked trucks, and so we decided that once we had smelt the bacon cooking that we should at least try a bacon butty and have a brew.

There is something wonderful about eating whilst standing outside on a frosty morning, especially as we thought we had done enough to deserve such a treat.

It was a short drive from there to our new house and to have a look round and make some decisions about curtains, carpets and widescreen TVs.

To our surprise, the vendors have not taken that much stuff out of the house, and in fact was pretty much liveable if anyone wanted to. We have the agents assurances that the house could be empty very quick, which we hope it will be. The house is everything we remembered and we will do great in it I can tell you. To imagine our stuff in there, and then thinking how we could make it even better is a wonderful feeling.















So, back home again to load up the car a couple of more times and then to go up to the storage place; and now we have our living space back again, and the cats can lay in the rays of the setting sun.This afternoon the house was filled with the smell of cooking as I baked a batch of saffron buns and then a batch of fresh coffee. Hmmmmm, damn fine coffee I can tell you.

The sun has set, the frost returned, and I can see all three cats from here; all asleep and all looking very happy.

This weeks Blogs

Wonderful Wednesday:

Yay! Halfway through the week. Although in truth nothing that taxing has happened so far, and is unlikely to in what is left of it either. Just a Wednesday; I'm home and looking at we in Britain laughingly call snow refuse to melt in the back garden. I have been packing up my CDs and records, yes records, ready for the anticipated house move.

Jools is very eager for everything to be packed as soon as possible; I'm the opposite and thinking what's the rush? But, I guess we have both come to respect each others feelings and are taking the middle ground. So, I pack a couple of boxes, and then mess around online a while, pack some more, have lunch, pack some more, read a magazine.

Phew, it's a tough life, but I am gitting it done. I do have three cats to help me; although two of them are asleep and the other one wants feeding; but sitting on another pile of vinyl whilst looking at me with leading eyes. OK, have some kitty treats and stop looking so darn cute.

So, this is the day when the sale of my house is completed; money should change hand and a cheque of some size will be ehading my way. I will try not to feel rich as the cheque is to be used as a deposit for our new home and not for a case of vintage champagne and a gross of the finest Cuban cigars, or that bottle of extremly rare Highland Malt I saw on the whisky exchange site. Hmmmm.

So, we are heading to the house on Saturday to measure up the windows for curtains and nets, and really see how the carpets are and should we think about replacing them. And then there are all the other things to do in a house move; arrange for services to be turned off, direct debits cancelled and the such-like.

We did find ourselves looking round a soft-furnishings shop in Canterbury the other day; cushions: what exactly are they for?



Friday 9th January 2009:

So, I wake up this morning no longer a home, or house owner. I say house owner because this flat where Jools and I live is my, our, home.I got the call from my solicitor on Wednesday to say the sale had all gone through and she had the money. And yesterday the familiar envelope from messers Waffle, Piffle and Fluster dropped through the letterbox and inside it was the cheque for the balance; minus their fees, the remainer of the mortgage and other various costs.What is left is enough, along with the money from the sale of this flat, for the deposit on our new house.

At this point I would like to describe the house to you. But I have not darkened it's doorway for some 5 months, and from what I can remember it is rather fantastic. However, tomorrow morning we are to see it again, armed with tape measure to size up curtains and the such-like.

What I do hope is that it is as good as we remember.I have spent the past few days slowly packing our stuff. In truth, it's my stuff, as I'm a hoarder. A life time of vinyl records, CDs, books and photographs, all packed away in boxes and waiting for the moment to move into the new place, of to go into storeage.

The cats suspect something is up. My old cat, Molly is puzzeled by the rows of empty shelves and seems detirmined to try each one out for size. The youngest of Jools' is just paniced and is hiding most of the time when I am wrestling with packing tape.I use the terms mine and hers in the paragraph above just to describe the cats; everything is really ours now; although no one really owns cats, and we only give them names to further humanise them. I remember a really old Garfield cartoon, where a friend of Jon's says that when he was a kid on the farm they had four cats. Jon asks what they were called; the friend replies, Cat, Cat, Cat and Cat, as there doesn't seem any point in naming something that doesen't come when they're called; I see his point.

So, we have more packing to do; just glasswear and the stuff we are using. Oh and the wine and whisky. That's going in boxes at the last moment as well I think.You will be glad to hear that I am finding time to take more pictures; I went out early yesterday morning to stand on the cliffs above Dover Harbour to watch the sun come up over France. There was a little mist on the ground, and it was wonderful, if a little cold.



Looking out over the 21 miles of the English Channel towards Calais and the shipping and the ever changing light is something I just know I will never tire of. During spring and summer when the light is clear, we can see the colour of the fields changing from brown to gold. There are chalk cliffs over there too, and we can sometimes see those. On very clear days I can see the buildings in Clalais through my telephoto lens clear enough to recognise The Hotel La Ville.But what is best is to sit on the cliffs at night and look at the lights over there twinkle whilst we tuck into fish and chips out of their newspaper wrappings whilst the radio burbles in the background.



I think what we will miss most from the flat is the view out of the back windown. I can see it now, accross the railway line and the rugby club to the wooded hill, and further to the right to the valley where the town of River nestles, this morning cloaked in a slight mist and heavy frost. Although we live on a main road, it is peaceful in the living room and out over the back garden. We love the changes of the seasons and the changing colours through the day.

Our new place has views over fields, and that is something new, and something we will grow to love as well.

winter Weekend

And so, the first weekend of the New Year; Jools was going to head back to work on Monday, so we decided to do some practical stuff as well as fun stuff.

And so in preparation for our move to the new house we headed off to Folkestone to the land of the superstores to look for a bargain washing machine, as the one from my old place had had the lino covering on the floor glued to the bottom of it; with the result that moving the washing machine ripped up the floor covering, or would have done if we hadn’t have stopped. So, a new machine was needed.

Walking into Currys we were pounced on by a succession of salesmen each desperate for a sale. I did feel sorry for them, and the most helpful one we called back over when we decided to buy the one with the largest discount.

Next, was the one household item almost guaranteed to cause unction between the most loving of couples; a new TV.

Needless to say, I wanted a large one, fnarr, and Jools doubted the need for something as large as fifty inches. As it turned out we settled on a Panasonic one, and that turned into a plasma , and finally something just under the magical fifty inch mark. We did hold off from buying until we were actually in the house and we knew how much money we had to spend. As I pointed out, if we have a high definition TV then we should have a Hi Def box and a Blu-Ray player.

I had to try.

This one will run.

So, after that, as it was a bright sunny day, we went for a walk down by the harbour in Folkestone, along a grassy hill on which three Napoleonic defence towers known as Martello Towers. One had been surrounded by a golf course, of course; but the contrast of the green grass and the whitewashed tower and blue sky was really very pleasant.



Searching the internet after lunch we found a local shop selling the new coffee machine we wanted; the bad news being that the shop was in that monster of modern retail the outlet village. So we set out for Ashford and into the Saturday shopping traffic and set out to find a parking space.

After queuing to get into the car park, and then going round and round we did find a space and headed to the shop. We had called and reserved the machine, we walked in, asked for the item, paid and walked out. We looked around at the multitude of shops and we asked, do we need anything else?

No, was the answer; and so we headed back to the car, three hours and fifty minutes of the parking ticket remaining and set off for home and to try out the new super duper coffee machine.

The good news is that it brews a damn fine cup or eight of coffee, and stores it in a double layered jug which keeps the coffee nice and hot. A slice of two of Christmas Stollen went down very well with the coffee, and we sat back in the sofa and watched the sun set out of the living room window and darkness envelop the world.

Sunday we had decided to head into London to go to a photographic exhibition at the National Portrait Gallery.

http://www.npg.org.uk/annieleibovitz/index.htm

Annie Leibovitz is a very well know photographer, best know perhaps for her Vogue and Rolling Stone covers. It was a wonderful exhibition, with the great and good mixed with pictures of her family and children. And showing how some of her best work shows the mortality of her parents and their eventual death.


After that, it was lunchtime and opposite was a posh looking burger place. We ordered what sounded like something amazing; but what turned up was a chilli burger and a cheese buger with fries and onion rings. And they charged us a king’s ransom for this; we did have a view down to Trafalgar Square maybe, but a burger is a burger, and BK was just around the corner and we could have saved ourselves £20.



Another walk through theatreland and into Chinatown followed, where we ended up once again in Soho amongst the lowdown and sordid. The one bright spot was a father and four bright Chinese children walking briskly past the peep shows and porn shops, reading the signs advertising sexy girls and the suchlike. We couldn’t help but laugh, and the father did turn to us and smile.


The final port of call was Kings Cross railways station, as I think its very photogenic and somewhere where I wanted to go and photographic in my own way. Sadly, the old Victorian building was as warm as a freezer, and not a place really to loiter, and after taking a dozen shots we headed back to Victoria and our train back home.



As we left London the sun was setting, and as the light faded to gray and then black we headed out over the Kentish countryside back to Dover.

Shetland blogs; Christmas 2008

The reunion:

I have to write this now as apparently documents written on newer versions of MS Word cannot be read by older versions. What kind of sense is this? What is the point of carrying data on portable drives if not all computers can read the data?

Anyway, last weekend.Events turned out to mean it was possible to attend the annual reunion of members of the trade in which I served in the Air Force; armourers. For those who do not know an armourer deals with things that go bang; so most of my time in the RAF I built bombs and the suchlike. We also look after all weapons, ejection seats and bomb disposal. Our patron saint is St Barbara, and the Saturday nearest her day is when we have our get togethers.

My old schoolfriend, Dick, lives near Lincoln and as he is home from the sea in preparation to start at the same new company as I will be, he said I could crash at his place in Gainsborough.So, after the rush hour I set off on the train to London; dash across the city on the Tube to catch my connection at Kings Cross and then up into the Fens of Lincolnshire and eventually to Lincoln and then on to Gainsborough.

All was going well until the second from last train broke down; 500 yards from Lincoln railways station. No matter how much the driver made the engine roared, the brakes would not come off. After some banging under the floor and some swearing we juddered into the station and I could at least catch my connection.Dick was waiting for me at the station and after a quick slice of pizza and a beer we set about the nights task; preparing his son's bands gig that night. He has 5 boys and four of them are in Colour:Code, abut it all fell down to assorted parents and grown-ups to lug the gear from the car and set it up wilst the boys looked and acted all cool with their friends and girlfriends.When the doors opened, dozens of skinny indie kids came in; those old enough made their way to the bar, whilst the others just sat around trying not to look too excited.





It was great that so mnay of the boys friends came along to support their friends on stage, and in truth the boys were very good playing a mix of Green Day and Blink 182 covers sprinkled with a few originals. I took pictures and everyone went home happy.

Quite whose idea it was to have the reunion in the centre of Lincoln on the busiest day of the Christmas Fair, right at the top of the aptly named Steep Hill, is not clear. But at least the landlord was happy enough to have the extra business.We caught a bus into the city as neither of us would be in a state to drive back later; as usual, the bus meandered around several villages before heading into the gridlocked traffic; we jumped out near the city centre and headed off op the cobbled Steep Hill into the ancient heart of the city, perched on a hill overlooking the Lincolnshire fens. The street is all lined with black and white timber framed houses and is stunning, really. Waslking on the cobbles isn't easy, and the steepness of the hill is surprising as Lincolnshire is usually so flat.

The venue, The Snake and Lion, is in the shadow of the Gothic cathedral and the castle, and is really a wonderful spot. All along the street outside stalls had been set up selling all sorts of crafts and food. All very nice.Once indide we had the first beers of the day and settled back to see if we could guess who the other armourers in the place might be. A young lad came and asked us if we were armourers; we were, once we said; and so sat down and told tales of old and of hedonsistic nights around the globs; as you do.Within an hour the place was full of armourers and ex-armourers, all making new friendships or renweing old ones. And much quaffing of ale was done. We all had to buy a drink and put it in a communal pot, and then take turns in a large draught of the brew was taken by each of us. Salutes were taken of those who had passed away and those who could not be there.Then more drinking. Much more drinking. But, not as much as you would think; for some of us, the years had taken their toll, and we needed something to eat. We had vouchers from an Australian themed place (don't ask) and so four of us split and went down for free buger, fries and beer.And why not.It was with some panic Dick realised we had 5 minutes to catch the last bus back, at half six, and so we staggared/ran through the city centre and grabbed seats on the bus.

And fell asleep.The driver woke us up in Gainsborough, and we set off in the general direction of his house.Dick fell asleep on the sofa and could only be raised to eat the chinese meal that had been fetched from town, and then he headed off to bed. I had to endure the horror that was The X Factor, and Simol Cowell's caustic comments and the bitter tears of disappointment as another young hopeful got the boot. It was worse the night before when we watched the final mkoments of I'm a Celebrity Get me Out of Here, and listened to tales of insect eating a faux bonding between Z listers.

Each to their own, and it was time for me to send back the z's until morning

I awoke at six with the usual confusion that comes after a heavy night. As it began to get light the murals of Bob the Builder and assorted cartoons became clear. I was sleeping in Dick's youngest room. Dick was up and made bacon sarnies with some thick bacon and doorstops; and after a couple of pints of tea I felt it was time for me to leave and asked Dick to drop me off in Lincoln so I could take some pictures before the crowds arrived for the last day of the market.

It was a crisp, frosty but bright morning, and after scraping off the frost from the windsreen we drove to the centre of Gainsborough where there is a manor house. Built by Henry VIII and it is still in stunning condition, but just sits in the middle of town.



Over the centuries, the timber frams had warped and so the walls were at all angles and overlooking the courtyard it was all black and white timber frames. Very nice.We drove out of the town and through the rolling Lincolnshire countryside, the light of the rising sun bathed everything in a rich golden light; even the power stations looked beautiful, and we stopped so i could take pictures.Dick dropped me near the castle in Lincoln, and so I wandered the cobbled streets taking pictures of this and that; some of them really quite good even if I say so myself. A quiet fair, stall holders setting up, the steep cobbled streets leading down into the modern centre of town, the cathedral, the castle.





All really very beautiful, and looking even better in the morning light of a bright winters morning.

By half nine the crowds were beginning to arrive and the food stalls were cooking the first batches of food for the day. I walked into town down Steep Hill, glancing backwards to see the towers of the cathedral above the surrounding hoses and shops.










The first train out of town wasn't until eleven, so I stopped for a coffee and a mince pie of two in a cafe and got out the Sunday Times to read. The train was packed, and showing how thittle thought goes into running railways not running them as a service any more. Oh well.

At Newark the platform was also packed, and I decided to upgrade to first class just to get a seat. Thankfully they had a special offer for Sundays; just £20 to upgrade. So I sank into a chair as comfortable as your favourite aarmchair, and watched as the countryside rolled past. I bought a small bottle of red wine and the day got even better.

Jools was waiting for me at Kings Cross, and the first task was to find somewhere for lunch. A quick ride on the tube to Tottenham Court Road found us in a traditional boozer; we ordered roast beef and all the timmings and a pint of frothy ale and just watched the world go by out of the window.One of our favourite things to do in London is to walk the streets of Soho and theatreland just for the fun of it and to people watch. Sadly the light was already failing, but it was great walking the streets and smelling the mix of food from the various eateries.We made our way to Vicoria, and as the sun set we made our way through the south London suburbs into night time and Kent.

11 Dec 2008:

So, there I was on Tuesday, flying north to Lerwick in the Shetland Islands. This is nice I thought, maybe have a few days bad weather and go see the neolithic monuments. I could see some impressive ones from the harbour over the sound.The weather dropped some and so we sailed, we did two hours work in the wee small hours yesterday, and then stopped as the winds started to gust to 35kts again.I wake up this morning and find we're heading back down south to Great Yarmouth again, as the client thought the weather forecast was going to be so bad they cancelled the rest of the job.

But, I had one night in Lerwick; in a bar, very tired, but drinking a fine local ale, and being entertained by the locals. Or one of them. He was the old soak, the town drunk who was already rocking and rolling by three in the afternoon when he was kicked out. We made do with the Juke Box, and who could get the cheesiest selection for a quid. Without doubt the worse song was the Brotherhood of Man's Eurovision entry, to which time has not been kind. The female old soak did dance and clap herself around the bar for the duration, though.

So, we are now heading south; have about a 1,000 miles to go which will take us over two days; so my body clock which is already shot to pieces by having to be made to work nights will now have to get used to being on days for a while, until Sunday at least. But, we still get paid though. Still no news on getting Christmas off; I am resigned to my fate though, as is the family. Jools' Nan was upset; she's 94 and thinks this is her last Christmas and so wanted me there. She could be wrong about being her last year of course. But I stand little chance next year either with a new job.I have lots to write about; the weekend I went to an Air Force reunion; I have typed it all up and reads quite good; will try to do that in the next couple of days if I can squeeze it into my schedule.Hope you are all well and playing nicely. Santas watching

13 Dec 2008:

In the past two years since I started this job I have travelled to some wonderful places; Holland, Java, Borneo, Sulawesi, New Guinea, West Timor, Norway, Great Yarmouth, etc. And people ask me what is so-and-so like?The truth is, I don't really know. For the most part I fly here like everyone else, and then someone meets us at the airport, takes us to the ship and we sail. At the end of the voyage its just a reverse of arriving. If we're lucky, we may get an evening of our own in which to find a bar and sink a few.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not looking for sympathy here, I have seen some wonderful things, visited some tremendous places, but really just passed through. When I get off a ship all I want to do usually is to get home as soon as possible; which is what I do.I guess the Shetlands is another example; I flew in, we didn't sail for a day, but I couldn't really see much more than the centre of town, and for me getting out and taking some shots is what it's all about for me. I can tell you that Lerwick is a small town, with some shops and a couple of bars, and that's it.yeah, this is me, complaining again. But just to have a few hours free to look round some places, you know? I guess we can add the Shetlands to our list of places we want to visit right after Japan, Tierra Del Fuego, The PNW, most of Euope, Egypt, Cambodia and all the other things we have either read about of saw on TV. Just too much to do and not enough time.

As luck would have it, I am seeing more of the Shetlands than I thought I would; we were supposed to be heading south the Great Yarmouth again to take on some new people for a new job, but the weather had other ideas. A huge storm has blown us and is staying right above us; so we are going up and down a bay staying out of the wind whilst it blows over. This puts us two or three days behind, but its better than being out in open water when we don't need to be.So, we have nothing to do; watch DVDs, play online, maybe even buy some Christmas presents as well. Only meals breaking the day up. And this is work and we get paid regardless of whether we work or not; and I know, we are lucky. I have been watching Bones, the foresnsic series, marvelling at the dreadful acting, but it passes the time.

And it's nearly dinner!Still no word from the office about getting off for Christmas; we should be in port next weekend; I could walk off the boat, but it would mean never being able to come back, and I'm not sure if I want to burn those bridges quite yet. I can't deny it being tempting, though. So, probably be on here for Christmas, maybe even working, stranger things have happened. We are planning a family day with Jools' Nan of course, but the magic won't quite be there. But, we can celebrate whenever we want, and with the sale of the house hopefully going through this week, then we may even more to be happy about.

I'm not looking for sympathy here; I know I'm lucky, maybe sometimes I don't realise just how lucky. But when you see others having the Christmas off year after year, it does get annoying. Frustrating, even. Christmas is for families, and I was just hoping to be spending it this year with mine.

17th Dec 2008:

Its three in the afternoon and its just about dark. Such is life in the Shetlands. For those of you that do not know, the Shetlands are the most northerly of the Scottish islands and are well on the way to Norway in fact. I believe that the nearest main line railway station from Lerwick is in Norway; or I could have imagined that.

We were due to leave here on Friday, but the weather got bad, real bad, and has stayed that way ever since. The news is that we may sail on Saturday, but even that is in doubt. So, we do odd jobs in the morning, roam around the town in the afternoon before hotting the bars at about eight. We have been here so long they know our drinks in Captain Flint's and are already pouring our pints as we walk in from the door. Almost locals, then.

Sadly, there is little to do here; we have about four hours daylight each 'day' and for the most part it has been too gloomy for photography. Today was a little brighter, and we had a common seal watching us as we did things with our streamer on deck. I say common seal; it was wearing Burburry and was casting glances and the souped up cars on the quay.

Still no news on whether I will be in the bosom of my family for Christmas; once again the office fails to answer my e mails and each time it reminds me why I am leaving. Walking off the boat if we get to Great yarmouth before Christmas will bean dicking some other soul at very short notice to take my place, and as tempting as that option is, I don't think I could do that to someone else.So, we have all agreed to do a secret santa for each other; although there is only a limited range of things to get in Lerwick; hopefully each of us will get some colourful knitwear and so we can parade around the town Christmas Morn; if we're still here. Heck, we may even get some snow.And now for the big news:

Bong!

On Friday the person buying my house in Suffolk will be signing the contract and the transfer of money should go through on Monday or Tuesday.

Bong!

We have begun the process of buying the house on the cliffs near Dover and as I write this e mails in legal speak are criss-crossing east Kent getting surveyors and the such to do their thang!We have been told that the sale should go through quickly and there is a good chance we will have the keys before I start the new job on February 2nd.

We have a tennant for our flat; someone who works with Jools, and when we sell the house he will just switch to paying Jools' Dad as he will be buying the flat off us.It seems all bases have been covered here; we have the finance, my stuff is out of the old house and Jools has begun to pack the flat up. It seems we have covered most, if not all bases and are stunned at how this has moved forwards so quickly again.

Other than that, not much happening, and so I wish all my friends the best greeting for the season; Merry Christmas.

19th Dec 2008:

OK; we have been here for a week now, and although it is nice to be paid for sitting alongside at the Victoria Pier, the possibilities of fun around here stretch to going to the the bar in the afternoon or evening. Or both.There is only so much brightly coloured knitware anyone could want or buy. The family are going to be so disappointed by their Christmas gifts as everyone will have matching bright red hats. At least they will all match.I failed to buy one for myself as I have a very fashionable Razorbacks wooly hat; well, fashionable in Arkansas anyway. I get admiring glances as I stroll down the main steet; at least that's what I tell myself.

So, today, instead of looking at the rain running down the windows of the lab, Dave and I decided to climb a hill.Because it was there.In fact it still is.So, we set off at first light; half nine this morning! And set off on the scenic route down by the waterside and around the edge of the golf course before heading out of town and upwards.



We timed being at the headland just as the sun rose behind the lighthouse the other side of the sound. I had my camera and recorded that fact to memory card. And to memory.The rain came, and we sheltered in Tescos, and then set off to the hill where there are two very attractive mobile phone transmitters. It was hard against the stiffening breeze. The wind was stiff not anything else; I don't get excited by a westerly wind! Walking beside the main road south was fun as car after car took turns to see just how close they could pass us by.

We turned off and upwards along a farm track through worried sheep and rabbits until we came to the top of the hill. The batteries in my camera failed so I have no shots to prove we got there.It was windier there I can tell you, and we could see a long way, and see the next rain cloud hurrying towards us. We turned back and headed back down.Tomorrow we sail south; maybe. And then the big worry of will we go into port for Christmas, of before and will I be getting off? I don't think so. Jools and I have hatched plans to get me home if a replacement arrives on Christmas Eve.

As this is our last night, maybe, on Shetland, for a achange we are going to go to Captain Flints where they do not know what we drink and have it ready as they can see us walking across the quay from the ship. Honest. There's promis of some traditional music and traditional drunks, which will be nice. We have to be good as representatives from the client arrive in the morning to judge whether we are good enough to go to work by the time we get to Norfolk waters sometime on Monday (if we sail tomorrow).

Nanu nanu.

20th Dec 2008:

Today we were due to sail south through hell and high water to Great Yarmouth, or at least to the new survey area.

We were due to have two new people from our clients looking into health and safety; only that would mean going into port sometime before Christmas to drop them off and losing survey time if the weather is fine.

So, the order came to sail this morning before they arrived. Sail by ten came the order from head office.

The master, being his own man, decided to wait until half past. As we pulled away from the quay the taxi carry the two pulled up, and so they watched us sail away north. See we were going to hide in a bay near the oil terminal and head south at some other point.

Thanks to modern technology, the reps called their head office; who called our head office, and they called the master and ordered him back to port.Which is where we are now. Meetings are taking place. They have been taking place for three hours now. We have missed the weather window to head south and so we will be here for another day or three at least.

My thoughts are; thank goodness I'm leaving this Micky Mouse company and going somewhere else. And still no wrd from my boss either, and days are clearly running out. I have 18 days left and counting down.

Have a great weekend, it'll be fun here.

22nd Dec 2008:

Yes, we are just about to cast off and head south. We have been here for some nine and a half days now and if I'm honest the novelty has worn off. But, we've had some good times, made some friends and the Shetlands are certainly a place worth coming back to, maybe in the summer.

Last night there was a pub quiz in Captain Flints, and four of us decided to take part. We thought there was bound to be a local round, and lots of questions about Scotland; so we thought we didn't stand a chance.Members of the team that won each round got a free shooter and the winning team of the night got more shots and tickets for a Manchester United game. When we had won the first four rounds we realised we were going to win the whole thing. We began giving our free shots to other teams; just to be nice, not to be taking the you know what. The music round we got every question right; and the final general knowledge round we began making wold guesses. We still won by 16 points and at one point I did shout, 'easy, easy.'

Yes, it has been great here; but it is a town with limited attractions for those wanting to let off steam; and now we will have to go and earn our money, because after all this is a job not a cruise.The weather down south is for light winds, which will mean us working until the 26th at least, which means I will not be home for Christmas. Needless to say I am not happy with that, but what can you do? Getting upset won't change anything so I may as well get on with it.

24th Dec 2008:

And so it came to pass that my soon to be ex-boss has now broken a second promise for me to be off the ship by MOnday. He says there are replacement engineers to take my place, and the company wants assurances that I will not just pack my bags when we get into port on Sunday.

It is tempting, I wont lie; but I feel I have to play the game and not burn any bridges. That does not mean he is being unreasonable and dick. The question is if I had no resigned would he have tried harder to get me off? I don't know the answer to that.

What I do know is that if I had a partner who was any less understanding the choice would be between a job and a marriage. And that is no real choice.

And so here I am on Christmas Day surveying the North Sea again and not at home. There will be an empty chair at the dinner table this afternoon, and all the time I am wishing I were there.It is not going to be too bad here; we have our secret santa gifts, a turkey dinner and we will stop working for an hour so we can sit down together. Or would do if there were enough chairs.It aint so bad, I am working and getting paid a kings ransome for being here. I have said that ok for now, but I want to be off for New Years Day as that is when our daily rate and days work counter gets reset. If we are at sea there will be nothing I can do; but if we're in port I can and will walk off.

So, Merry Christmas from me to you, and hoping that your holidays are going well. I know they can be stressful, but enjoy your day, and remember the gift of giving and those less fortunate than yourselves.

25th Dec 2008:

Christmas Day began, quite rightly, at midnight when Slav and myself turned up for the start of our shift. Yes, our second day working in 17 days and it's Christmas; just our luck.

Anyway, it was low pressure stuff, just running our digital survey lines up and down; one of us took turns to work whilst the other relaxed by surfing the net or reading. At half five the mess staff got up; and yet being muslims were more excited about the prospect of Christmas than all of the rest of us. We were greeted by huge smiles and handshakes and exchanged greetings. They had the busiest day of all with the feast to prepare.And what a feast; whilst the rest of us carried on our work, they baked, cooked and did all the other things most of us would take for granted.

At midday the other shift took over, and it was decided to assemble in the lab at a quarter to one for Secret Santa. One of us dressed up with fake beard and red boilersuit to pretend to be Santa, and each one of us had to sit on his knee when our present was pulled out of his full sack. We had just £10 to spend, but the best were those funny gifts like the 'naughty' box of delights our geoligist received. I won't add to her embarrasment any further by listing the contents, but it did turn her cheeks the brightest of crimson.

After that we were called down to eat, and in the mess the most wonderful cold buffet was laid out, and those of who had been up for twelve hours were indeed hungry and filled our plates. It was then sprung on us that this was just the first course as a full turkey dinner was to follow!So with another laden plate we grabbed what seats we could and tucked in whilst The Two Ronnies played out unfunnily on the tv behind.There was even Christmas Pudding for those still hungry, and then mince pies, nuts, Quality Street, Christmas Cake, nuts and Chocolate Log to top the meal out and stretch those belts a little further.

Trying to sleep with a full stomach was difficult I have to say, but I did drop off to the gentle rocking of the ship and the booming of the seismic guns the other side of the hull.

27th Dec 2008:

Yes, it's already Sunday morning here. And I see when I filled in my diary this evening that I have maybe eight or nine days left on board before I can go home for sure. Of course it could even before then, but I'm not counting any chickens quite yet.

So, here we are about 5 hours steaming east of Great Yarmouth, right now just going round in circles waiting for the weather to come down so we can get back to work.

Last night we spent eleven hours getting samples of sand and stones from the seabed. We get paid to do it, so I don't really question the futility of it. What I can tell you is that after a couple of hours in a force six, it don't matter how many layers you have on, it still gets darn cold.But, just before breakfast it was getting too dangerous for work out there, and we came inside. And that really has been the pattern for the last couple of days; just waiting around. We are due to head into port tomorrow; the one where I was supposed to get off. But, as everyone in the office, including my boss, has had Christmas off, the chances of anything been done are a little above zero.

I have sent my boss a mail saying that I want to be off by January 1; that is because that is when double payments for us end. It may sound a little mercenary, but it's the truth. For each day we work this month we get two days pay. How good is that? Well, for those who have worked even more days than I have, they are getting triple pay! And they don't wanna get off, which was the whole point for the company to introduce it.

Jools has been entertaining my Mother; I think at times it has been hard, and I guess it would have been easier with me there. And although Mother and I have had our issues, well I have the issues with her, I would still loved to have been there. Jools made Christmas dinner sound so wonderful, with both her siblings being there. I could only imagine really what it was like.

Other than that, things are pretty much the same around here; there is an abundance of Christmas food left over; the chef made a really hot and spicy Indonesian dish out of the leftover turkey, which was really great. And a change from the usual cold cuts or sandwiches. There is only so much Christmas cake one can eat though.

29th Dec 2008:

And verrily it came to pass that the forces of good did vanquish the forces of evil and brave Prince Jelltex did get permission to go home for the fest of New Year and the feast that is the NFL playoffs.

Maybe it was his force of will, his use of the power of the interweb and e mail that did it; but his arch-enemy the boss did say yeah, go home and stop yer whining.

And the people did cry out in great jubilation at this turn of events and there was weeping.And he did call out using the power of the mobile phone to his beloved, the Princess Jools, and she did grab her trusty chariot, VW Polo and did she head up the Queen's highways known as ye M20 and A12 headed she northwards where the arms of her husband did indeed wait.

And there was more weeping of joy. And thus the brave Price Jelltex did break the spell of employment under the cloaked figure known only as 'the boss' or that t#+t.' And looketh did he forward to the golden of lands of the new job living did they in the new camelot known as The House on the Cliffs.

And liveth did they happily ever after.

30th Dec 2008:

And so I settle back into life back home.The drive back down to Kent was uneventful, as we had to wait until my replacement turned up. The result was that we didn't set off until half seven, and at least by then what traffic there was had long since passed. Dover was quiet and frosty when we arrived, and our three cats were waiting in the hallway demanding what the heck we thought we were doing in leaving it to half ten to feed them dinner; some five hours late.

There was just enough energy to have a shower and a wee dram before bedtime. This morning Jools went into work whilst i battled with the adjusting of switching to living in the daylight that comes with working nights for the last week. I sat in the sofa and watched the sun rise over the frosty hill of River. Trains went by whisking those unlucky enough to be working.

I made do with cranking the heating up another notch and another cup of flavoured coffee with flavoured syrup.

Jools picked me up and we went to our favourite pub for lunch; we both had the pub staple; scampi. And I had a couple of pints of frothy Old Speckled Hen. It's a beer guys. And then we went to visit Jools' Dad and Nan. Nan dd not know I was home and so it came as a huge surprise for her. And we made plans for a long day at the weekend when we would have her over at the flat.

Arriving back I opened the presents that Santa failed to deliver to the ship. Clever Santa brought me two bottles of malt whisky; a high tech bottle opener for those fruity reds, various items branded with the crest of my favourite football team and thermal socks for those long hours standing on the pitching deck at sea.Clever Santa.Back here for more wonderful coffee, chocolate shortbread and the Christmas Wallace and Grommit whilst we shared the sofa with two of our cats.It's good to be home.

The Grimsby Blogs (part 2)

20th October 2008.

The weather today is grim; I mean it really is grey and windy, and on the walk back from the Seeker, the heavens did open and we did indeed get wet. We had been over to get some protective coverings for some cable on deck here; Mike and I walked to the Seeker to get some stuff for work, but on the way back the heavens did open and we got very wet indeed.
I slept all afternoon, and arranged to meet up with Andy and the guys from his boat this evening.

Jumping ahead, I thought of going to The White bear where they were yesterday, but it was empty; save for a couple of teens asking for a penny for the guy; something I had not heard for ten or so years.

It was some walk over from the White Bear to the centre of town and the pub where the others were tonight. Grimsby, once upon a time must have been a prosperous town; signs of this are everywhere. But seeing it today, it looks very sad. On a couple of street corners, ladies of the night tried to drum up business; the street on which the White Bear stands is now one where most of the shops have closed down, and the pub itself is a modern day version of the spit and sawdust type.

The rain had given the streets a sheen that made it look almost nice, but a closer look revealed a down well and truly on its uppers. A new road cut through the end of the High Street, creating a six lane highway where once were shops and houses. The town centre could be anytown, UK; with the usual mix of shops and banks. At least the town centre pubs had not been turned into fun-pubs the way Hull’s had.

I caught up with the lads in one of these; a nice enough place, with beer at a northern price of less than £2.50 a pint, and a large TV filling one wall and most people watching the game.
Newcastle were playing Manchester City on the large screen, and it was almost a good game. In the end it finished a 2-2 draw, and not that bad.

One beer followed another, followed another until it was kebab time and then grab a taxi and come back to the ship. The taxi stopped right outside the gangplank, and I was soon enough eating the kebab and enjoying a diet Coke or two.

News of tomorrows early departure have been may be false; those from the Seeker suggest it has been agreed we stay here until Friday like them. Such is life.

Time for bed.


Grimsby.

In previous writings recently, I may have been unkind to Grimsby. It’s not hard to do; it’s now a run down, downmarket, down at heel kind of place; full of abandoned warehouses, disused rail tracks and just hints at past glories. The wring turn from the bright lights of the American style strip mall takes the unwary to a world of vice, drugs and cheep booze. Teenagers hang round in alleyways, drunks stagger in circles and young women sell the one thing they have; their bodies. The shops are long since abandoned in this area, the pubs a modern variant on the old spit and sawdust, where it’s all ways happy hour in name if not atmosphere.

It would oh so easy to write the town off as hopeless; and yet there are signs at how wealthy and prosperous the town once was. Grand warehouses, wide roads and the faded names of dozen of merchants stand testament to the rich past the harvest of the sea brought to the town. Now the only fish being landed are frozen after being caught in more fertile waters around the globe; the docks now stand empty of fishing boats, and the quaysides have become car parks for cars and trucks from around the world that other nations have built for us to consume.

The High Street, once the heart of the town has been cut in several places by grand road schemes which have only served to take custom to larger, box like stores on the edge of town. Every shop is having a sale, but failing to tempt the early drinker from his course to the pub with the £1.25 drinks. Later, these same people can be seen either staggering home, or just slumped under lamps where their legs gave out, oblivious to what goes on around them; usually skater boys and girls using the pedestrianised streets as a place of fun; at least someone does.
Is there any hope for Grimsby? I guess so; it has potential, vast areas of land await the developer’s shovels. Sadly for Grimsby, the global economy means those days are long off. And so, Grimsby’s past stands to remind the present of what was and just how bad things are.


22nd October 2008.

Another day, as they say. And here we are still in Grimsby, waiting on the weather, whilst here in port it has been glorious sunny day with stunning blue skies. Not much work on, so I took the afternoon off and walked into town to find the library and do some internetting.

This morning, Wendy asked if I took photographs; I told her the truth and so I was given the job of taking the official pictures to be put on the company website. She seemed impressed with what I did, although in my mind they were a little over exposed, but not too bad.

After the library, I found the local Starbucks and had a huge coffee before bumping into Mik and Ewa in the Yarborough. I had some Polish beer before heading off to get some reading material before settling down on my own with a pint to read Private Eye and a couple of train mags.
After a dinner of scampi, Liverpool played Athletico Madrid; in an insipid game which ended one all; thus proving what a bore the Champion’s League can be when such a result benefits the teams playing.

At least the taxi driver tonight brought me to the right side of the dock, and no lengthy wait on the other side of the lock gates were needed.

Heck, we may even sail tomorrow; then again…


23rd October 2008.

Another day, another day in Grimsby. No news on a departure date or time, it’s just not today. Spent the morning dealing with the freight, the OCs get their own TVs and DVD players, whilst the rest to make to with a Wii.

I did sleep for about six hours last night, and so when I came to try to get my head down this afternoon, I tossed and turned but sleep would not come. So, I opened the latest Robert Goddard book and immersed myself in his twists and turns. How wonderful those six hours flew by.

News of James; he is leaving the house on Friday; maybe: I’ll believe that when it happens. Jools is still to go up on Saturday to begin to clear the house out.

I walked into town to the town centre pub; only to find it full of students as it was just £1.25 a pint. Quite a selection of freaks and misfits; mostly were students of those of an age where they look like students, a scattering of Goths and a couple of old soaks who couldn’t pass up the chance of cheap beer, even with a banging Iron Maiden soundtrack coming out of the Juke Box.

As time went on, people began to stand in front of the TV making watching the game impossible and less than enjoyable. I met Thom the first mate, and we ended up going to a quiet bar for supper and more beer. He left as Mike arrived, and we chatted some. I caught a taxi back, only for the driver to drop me off the wrong side of the dock, and I found the lock gates open and I had to spend 90 minutes until the tide turned before the gates were closed and I could cross.
Man Utd beat Celtic 3-0, the Gooners win 5-2 in Turkey but Norwich thrash Wolves, top of the league Wolves, 5-2; and I get to see the goals over and over on Sky Sports News.


The Fruit Fairy Cometh.

Since arriving on the good ship Vigilant, there has been a distinct lack of food; in particular, fruit. This situation made me walk to Tescos the first afternoon on board and buy a bag of oranges as well as a couple of boxes of bran flakes, as there only is cornflakes on board.

Meal times were no better, no choice about what to eat, just Hobson’s Choice, take it or leave it. And as fish was the overwhelming favourite, it just meant that some went hungry. Also, it has to be said the portions were small, with no dessert and none of the usual garlic bread. And as the night shift ate second at lunch, the other shift had munched their way through the only plate of salad.

Talking of night shift; only one night was any food left out for us at all; and we had to the one step above eating each other; Pot Noodles. Even then, there were just enough for one each. It felt like being on hard tack.

And despite repeated promised from Wendy that something was going to be done; nothing changed; until yesterday.

Suddenly a huge bowl of fruit appeared, with apples, oranges, kiwi and bananas, as well as a large plate of melon and pineapple chunks, and as soon as that plate was empty another pineapple was put under the knife.

Even better was the appearance of a menu at lunch, with choices of course, the looked of surprise on the rest of the crew was quite funny. But really did go to show how bad things had become on board. At least now there seems to be enough food, and the promise of gym equipment arriving today, although no where to put it, it seems that we will soon be ship shape and all that.

Sadly, the weather isn’t going to play ball, and it seems we are going to be here until Sunday now. We’ll just have to make the best of it I guess.


27th October 2008.

And so, after a week in Grimsby, we find ourselves back on the high seas, some 80 miles due east of the Humber. Although we’re not working; almost, but not quite, due to the weather. We did try to work, put the sonar in the water, but the data was rubbish, and we damaged to towing points getting it back on board.

Typically, we sailed yesterday just as the games in the Premier League kicked off; and so we poured over irregular updates via our shaky internet connection. Once we had sailed, it was to bed to try to get some sleep before arriving on site in the early hours of today.

The wind had calmed down, and it was a wonderful late afternoon that we pulled out of the dock and headed into the darkness that lay to the east. A couple of thrill seekers on jet bikes came over and used our wake to jump off. Final calls were made to loved ones, and we settled down once more to the life at sea.

A week in port, even in October is a little unusual, and some of us made it off into town at least once a day; whilst others just played on the video game that was delivered to the ship last week.
My days fell into a familiar routine; wake up at about 6; have breakfast, and then hang around in the lab in case of any odd jobs needed to be done; and then a walk into the town, to the library for some internetting, before heading to Starbucks for a vente latte with an extra shot whilst reading the Times; And finally maybe meeting up with either Dave or Thom for a pint in the Yarborough.


28th October 2008.

Nearly midnight, and here we are for the second whole day and third night bobbing around on site waiting on weather. Talk is of heading into port on Saturday; but it’s just that; talk.
Didn’t sleep much today with the ship lurching around in the heavy swell. I say heavy, just 2 metres, but enough even on the lower deck to disrupt sleep. So, do we try to stay awake all night or grab some sleep if the weather allows? We shall see.

And the big question is; why did we sail on Sunday as we knew what the weather was going to be? It’s just been a waste of time and fuel to be sitting out here hour after hour waiting for the swell to drop to one metre. In fact in the next few hours it will increase to two and a half, so no chance of work at all.

We have all settled into a routine; with meals and time off to do our own thing. Some play on the Wii, others like me, doesn’t. Although I did try out one of the driving games in the wee small hours.

A year ago we were in Cardiff for the Arcade Fire concert, and then we went up to Yorkshire to the cottage on the edge of the moors. I know I am getting paid for this, but I wish we were back on our travels again. Time moves on for sure, and soon it will be November and thoughts will turn to leaving the ship in the weeks that follow. We could be off sooner than we think as there is a real danger the job will be cancelled due to the weather, and some of us will have to find a new ship, possibly further north than this. The Explorer has a crew change this week, so that would be out for me. So Hammerfest is at least out.

There are worse ways to spend a working day.


And the Rich Shall Inherit the Earth. Apparently.

And in front of the multitude, Jesus spake, ‘the rich shall inherit the world; blessed are the insurance brokers.’

Go back to your homes and build ye a gated community, so no poor can trouble your door, and employ ye an accountant so you pay minimum tax by funnelling it through an offshore account. Do this, and truly the kingdom of heaven shall be yours.

Sorry, I got carried away, but I think he may have said something different. Didn’t his disciples have to give away all their possessions before following Jesus? Did he not say it was easier for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle than a rich man enter the kingdom of heaven? And no it didn’t mean a gate in Jerusalem.

What stuns me, is for the most part those who seem to resent tax dollars being spent on the poor and old are the ones who seem to advocate religion, and Christianity in particular.
How strange.

Even if the deranged arguments were right about the tax dollars being wasted, surely the phrase ‘some fell on stony ground’ comes into play here. The act of being charitable is what counts, not whether it makes any difference.

There is a phrase in Britain, which has fallen out of use; I’m alright Jack; meaning, screw you, I doing fine. And that is what I am hearing from people claiming to be Republicans; those with God on their side; apparently.


November 12th 2008.

So, I sit here in my cabin the morning we sailed from Grimsby, again. We have tried to work, and failed due to the weather. We are just in site of land, so a run to port if the weather turns will be easy.

We sat in Grimsby all week, and sailed today because there is supposed to be a weather window of a few hours. After today, it will be late Saturday before we can work. Even then we have to be so careful, as fishing pots litter the area, and we have a chase boat running the lines ahead of us so we don’t snag our gear.

I guess I should mention last week’s election; Obama won by not quite a landslide, but a big enough margin of victory to cause the conservatives to turn on themselves to lay blame. We worked in the lab whilst the results came in, and at about four the Florida results came in and the ticker counted over 270 meaning an Obama win. It caused the heart to jump with joy.
Now, other bloggers are claiming all sorts of things as to why he should not be the 44th president; hopefully even they will get used to the idea in the weeks to come. So, change has come; quite whether it will be for the good, or he can live up to his promises is another matter; but in winning the world certainly changed.

The one bad taste in the moth has been the vitriol hurled in Obama’s direction; it has been horrible to see; And proves that although some people have moved into the twenty first century, some quite clearly are stuck in the dim and distant past.

The other main news is that someone has offered us plenty to buy my house, and we have decided to take what they bid. It’s something less than £20,000 less than the house worth a year ago, but we have to take what we can. So, now we have to instruct solicitors on both sides to draw up contracts; as well as removing the final possession that I have there. Julie had to come up to Grimsby over the weekend as I had forms to sign so she could sign the contracts in my stead when the time comes.

It will also allow us to move forward and to look for a place of our own when the time comes, and that might be as soon as Christmas when I’m home next. Moordown is still for sale, and for £216,000. It could just work.

As I said, Julie came up at the weekend; we had some 15 hours together, and it was wonderful to spend time together and just talk and talk. We stayed in a Travelodge, it was ok, and comfortable enough. The hours flew by, and we both crashed out before nine as we were so very tired. She also brought up new magazines and books, as well as supplies of fruit.

We talked of the future and our plans, all of which seem to be getting better all the time. We are just so darned lucky.

The Grimsby Blogs (part 1)

Just a collection of writing I did when the net did not work.

15th October 2008.

How best to describe what happened these past five days? Well, it all began quite simply with the news on Thursday that I was to join the Researcher sometime this week, or in about five days, in Great Yarmouth. So, no problems there, plenty of notice, time to arrange a last weekend with Jools. Easy. All too easy it seems.

So, we arranged a weekend of going to Loughborough to take pictures of steam trains, Sunday in London at Ally Pally where there was a craft exhibition that Jools wanted to go to. And then go on Monday or Tuesday to the ship; what could go wrong?

So, Friday I spent the day in the kitchen cooking a wonderful stew laced with a can of John Smith’s and a can of Guinness; it was wonderful. At the same time I baked some wholemeal rolls to have for lunch, and then in the afternoon saffron buns to have when Julie came home.
So, there I was laying on the sofa listening to the radio as I like to do, and then the phone rang; it was Kevin from the office, I was to join a new boat the next day in Great Yarmouth. I was stunned; to be told this at short notice just a week after I had told him by e mail that this was my major bugbear with the company. I hung up on him; only for him to ring back to try to reason with me. It didn’t work; I was livid; there was a story that there was an engineer shortage and the Researcher wasn’t due in port until the end of the week. Sadly for Kevin, an e mail arrived from movements telling me my flight details to Aberdeen on Tuesday. Kevin had lied, and here was the evidence.

I had no choice but to accept it, but I was not happy, and getting drunk. Just for Kevin to call again to offer a compromise. A guy from another department was coming up to Grimsby to meet the boat on Monday; I could come up with him and still have my weekend at home. I just needed to be in Yarmouth early on Monday morning.

Julie and I made our plans for the weekend; a trip up to Loughborough on Saturday to see a variety of steam engines on the Great Central Railway; then on Sunday Julie going to the craft fair in London and then dropping me off at Mother’s before Julie drives home whilst I get a taxi to meet up with the guy.

A bottle of wine to celebrate when Julie came home; and a wonderful steak with field mushrooms accompanied with chip shop chips; it was perfect.

Saturday.

I did not know there was a train at 04:44 in the morning; let along think that we would actually be getting on it. But, sure enough, there we were at half four on the platform joining various workers for the red eye train, and calling at apparently every station, we headed to London. As we dozed, the inky blackness of the Kentish countryside slipped by; and as we entered the outskirts of London, the sky in the east lightened, and the day was nearly on us.

A quick dash across London by tube, to the new St Pancras to pick up an aging train to whisk is north to the Midlands and back to the age of steam. Sadly, the train was aging, 32 years old and showing it; the poorly mould and padded seats were really uncomfortable, and the poor legroom under the table making stretching out without kicking a fellow passenger, impossible.

As we headed north, the day was dawning, deep reds and oranges lit the sky, and the wonderful mist made a wonderful vista for those who cared to look out of the windows. The sun rose blood red, but quickly making the mist and fog disappear.

Loughborough would be another midlands market town, were it not for the crossroads of two main line railway lines; one now sadly gone. The bare bones of one of these lines had been born again and show the public of today how the railways of yesterday worked.

More importantly for us, there was a steam gala to be held this weekend, with two important locomotives making a rare appearance together. Oliver Cromwell was the engine that pulled the last scheduled train on British Railways; a majestic huge Britannia class engine, and newly repaired and painted. The other engine is the first new steam locomotive to be built in Britain for some 50 years; Tornado was designed to pull the growing number of railtours that criss-cross the county every weekend. What better than a brand new engine? This was to be the final weekend that Tornado was to spend on the Great Central before heading to York to have it’s shiny final coats of paint applied, and then mainline trials and tests to be carried out before hauling proper trains on regular lines next year.

Walking out of the station, there were queues for taxis; so we set off with other spotters towards to old Central Station. We passed a taxi company, and Julie asked if they had a car to take us to our chosen vantage point; they did and soon we were being whisked to Main Street by a trainspotting taxi driver telling us the codes for engine sheds in the area.



Glad to get out of the cab, we walked up the road to the bridge, there were gaps in the hedge, through which a few other photographers had already arrived. As we took up our places, a cloud of smoke rose above the town centre, and soon Oliver Cromwell powered by looking majestic in the morning sun; I snapped away. And then there was a 45 minute wait until Tornado was to pass by in much the same manner. More snapping, and with the pictures in the can, as it were, we headed off to walk back into town to the station to ride on one of these trains.



As we reached to bottom of the road, more spotters arrived in a taxi, which we took back into town, and within 5 minutes we were in the queue to pay our money to get onto the platform and to join the crowds to get on the train when it arrived.



Oliver Cromwell was to be our train, and after getting quite possibly the worst cup of coffee, we managed to get a couple of empty seats and waited whilst the large engine was attached to the front of the train.



In all honesty, there was not much enjoyment to be crammed into a 50 year old carriage like sardines, but it was really an event to raise funds for the railway, so we didn’t really mind.
The Leicestershire countryside rolled by, and special other trains steamed past us on the other line. It was a wonderful day, even with the crowds.



But the crowds were getting worse, and after getting out at Quorn on the way back to sample the beer tent, it was getting impossible to do anything, and making us feel uncomfortable. We decided we had done all what we had wanted to, and so thoughts turned to going home. We walked back to the mainline station, but realised we had a 90 minute wait for the train our seats were reserved on. There were dozens of comfortable looking first class seats on the 5 coach train; we decided to pay the difference and took our places in the armchair like seats. It was almost worth the extra cost; almost.

Anyway, we got back into London earlier than we thought, and we had time to head off to our favourite restaurant for more Italian food. How wonderful it was to head into a little piece of Tuscany from the busy streets of London, some large garlic prawns and that followed by lobster spaghetti washed down with a fruity rosé. Wonderful.

A short walk to Charing Cross and a train to Dover which was to leave in less than 10 minutes; even better it was a fast train in that it only stopped four times before we arrived back at the white cliffs.

And so we watched a wonderful sunset and dusk as we whizzed once more through the suburbs and into the dark countryside of Kent.

Sunday.

Up again early, and some final packing before we headed once again back to London. Just enough time to say goodbye to them cats, and then it was time to walk out the door for the final time in maybe eight weeks.
It was a grey and foggy morning in Kent, and driving up the M2 to London was not too pleasant, but we made good time, and soon we were once again in the suburbs and heading for the tunnel under the Thames. As we approached the tunnel, we glimpsed Canary Warf across the river, all shrouded in fig, with just its golden pyramid top showing above the swirling mist.
Alexandra Palace has been many things; the first BBC studios, and now an exhibition hall, and today a treasure of arts and crafts for what Julie called the WI and blue rinse brigade. And she wasn’t wrong.
He fog had not cleared, and so as Julie went inside, I wandered around snapping away at ghostly shapes of trees and the such, and later dewy cobwebs and friendly birdlife and the traditional Sunday morning football games, played by the hungover and unfit. All fit subjects for the unblinking eye of my camera.
Walking back up the hill to Ally Pally, the Fog had all but cleared and the brickwork now stood out strongly against a bright blue sky instead of trying to hide in the wisps of mist. I got a call, Julie was ready, and so we met up back near the car and headed off; thankfully going against the traffic which was still arriving.
We stopped for lunch in a chain place in Epping Forest; t was just about ok, but was quickly filling up with loud families and was another place to escape from.
And so, back onto the open, but overcrowded roads as we headed north further into Essex and then on to Suffolk and then Norfolk. It was a glorious autumnal afternoon, but there was the shared knowledge that our time together was quickly coming to an end.
The final part was over familiar roads for me, a short run from Norwich to Lowestoft, some down quiet leafy lanes, and across three marshes beside the broads before arriving outside Mothers.
Then the usual pleasantries, and a cup of something hot and it was time for Julie to leave before the mist came down again; it was already probably too late to avoid that. But she did leave, leaving me with the awkward silence and fractured communication that marks our relationship these days.
Sadly, the thought of a whole evening together did not thrill me, and so I called an old friend and he came to pick me up so we could go somewhere where we could share a pint or two. I chose a place where another friend, Mike, worked; as he had fallen on hard times and could not come to the wedding.
The pub was crowded with actors, as a TV series was filming nearby, and this was their chosen watering hole. Two Pints of Lager is something I had not watched, but there were faces I did recognise.
All too soon it was time to head home and to bed, as tomorrow, it was off to work and the sea. How quick the time goes.


North to Grimsby.


After many changes of plan, I was to meet a guy at the offices in Yarmouth Monday morning, and he would take me along with the freight to join the ship in Grimsby. At least I was spared getting up at stupid o’clock to catch a train to Norwich to meet him there. I arranged a taxi for eight, Mum warned me of traffic problems in Yarmouth, and so I thought that allowing an hour would be plenty.
The traffic problem turned out to be one of the two bridges into town closed, and all traffic from the south merging into the single lane over the one remaining bridge. To call it chaos would be an understatement; it took an hour to go the one mile from the hospital to the Haven Bridge, inching along watching the meter creep up in the taxi.

And then once in the office, finding that everyone else has the same problem, and work begins in some departments at maybe half ten. I waited and waited for the guy; and then when he does show up, surprise, there’s been a change of plan and now someone else is taking me at some time later.

So, after nearly three hours waiting around, we head off in the van first to Norwich and then west to Kings Lynn and into Lincolnshire. The driver, Joe, tailgated all the way there, as he wanted to get back to his family that night, and the only conversation was how crap the company was.

We drove through Lincoln, a pleasant place for sure, and somewhere to return with cameras I think. The cathedral is situated in the centre of town on top of one of the few hills for miles, and looks really imposing.

Then it was north through the Lincolnshire Wolds past air bases, some still working and some long since abandoned to the plough, until the chimneys and pipes of Immingham could be seen in the distance. Constant calling to the office failed to get an answer as to what dock the boat would be coming in at; until we were once actually at the gates to the docks we were told that the ship wasn’t actually in yet, or anyone had spoken to the ship and it could still be doing its trials hours out to sea.

Hours went by, we went into what from the outside looked like a nice county hotel, but inside were scattered characters of dubious repute, and the walls of the bar covered in warnings about drug deals and advice lines. Request for two coffees were greeted with surprise; and a kettle was boiled and instant was made, and for this we were charged £1.20 a cup.

Finally, at five, a call from the office with news; the boat had missed the tide and would not be in until four or five in the morning, and here are the details of your hotel. Joe was not happy, as he had made clear that he did not want to spend the night away, but now had no choice.

I got the sat nav to work on my new phone, and so we drove through the evening traffic to the Hotel Elizabeth. It’s a modern place, well was in the 1970s when it was built, blocky looking, but comfortable inside, and for a change our reservations were actually waiting for us when we came to check in.

I spent the night using the Wi-Fi in the lobby, and then joined Joe for a couple of beers before heading up to my room.

The next morning, it was still dark when we met for breakfast at seven; and after a plateful of scrambled eggs and lots of coffee we headed out to meet the boat, which we now knew was arriving at East Royal Dock. Joe just forgot to ask in which town that was.
At Immingham, they said there was no such dock there, but there was one in Grimsby, and so turning round we headed back into the heavy morning rush to find the dock.

And there she was, just sitting there hiding on the quay amongst stacks of wood imported from some rain forest the other side of the planet. The Vigilant used to be a Dutch naval ship, but now converted to our requirements, it looked OK at first; it was then I saw that our lab was two transport containers welded together and strapped to the back deck; it was going to get in there once the storms hit.

Joe and I parted our ways on the deck, as I set out to find some familiar faces and hopefully a cabin in which to dump my stuff, and then begin my first day of work in oh so long.


The Son of Jimmi Hendrix.

So, here we are back in wonderful Grimsby again. It’s a Sunday night and the town is ours for the taking. Even better, there is another ship from our fleet in port, and we’re all due to meet up in a bar; how hard could it be?

Mobile phones make modern life possible, and should, therefore make it easier for one party tell another exactly which bar they may, or not be in. So, once docked, someone called a friend on the other ship; the name of a bar exchanged, and we head out into the cold and windy night.
I was given the name of the bar, and putting that name into my clever new mobile phone I find the bar is 130 yards away behind us. Well, that was once we found our way off the dockside.
Unbeknown to us, we had been berthed at the far side of the dock; which meant a route march through miles of parked trucks, across the gates to the dock along a rickety walk along the top of the lock gates, down a narrow unlit road and then a mile along deserted warehouses before coming to what was once the merchant’s quarter.

Others in the party thought they knew the bar, and so we headed off away from our eventual destination and into what was once the centre of town. Mile after mile of shop fronts passed by until we gave up walking in circles. Another call told us the name of the new rock bar, and checking with the taxi line revealed that it was now a 10 minute taxi ride back to where we started.
We had already passed many bars and pubs already selling lovely beers and wines; but the others in the rock bar made it sound so nice we paid the money and climbed into a couple of taxis and headed back into docklands.

The Yardbird is a rock bar; no doubt about that. It is run by the local biker chapter, The Warlocks, and is a rough as a rough thing. There were drug deals being done, and we looked out of place a portion of ribs at a Jewish wedding. We bought drinks and settled down to watch the trip on stage try to do a passing impression of the Jimi Hendrix Experience.

They weren’t that bad in truth. The wah-wah peddle was over worked, but the tunes were recognisable, and the few in the bar were getting down to the show. Heck; even the drinks were cheap, although talk was impossible, it wasn’t that bad.

I guess what was worrying, was the baby-boomers getting down with the groove and puffing away on fat roll ups; is this our future; listening to the sounds of our youth until we’re in our dotage? I shuddered as someone’s granddad played an invisible flying V to the intro of Voodoo Chile.

We caught the final half hour of the show, and then it was time to head back into docklands, or what was left of it, to find our way back to the ship past miles of white vans and stacks of wood.
The view is more of the same tomorrow night; sure beats working.

There goes five weeks

So, how best to sum up five weeks at sea and at work in one blog?

It's tough, especially as for many days there was no work at all due to the seas and weather, and during those long nights we make the best of things we can thanks to the Wii and a collection of DVDs.

Upon waking up at a quarter to eleven, one lays in bed trying to determine whether the baot is moving enough for work to have been cancelled; in which case there is time to lay and doze, or stare at the ceiling. otherwise it's soon time to leap out of the bunk and get ready for another 12 hours of monitoring data.

The fact is we have done nothing since three o'clock Saturday morning, as each day promised good conditions and failed to deliver. Monday was supposed to be the best day, and its true we had half an hour of calm sea, but by the time we steamed towards the start of the survey line, the swell and wind had built up and the ship was rocking like you wouldn't believe. It woke just about the whole of the day shift. And at lunchtime it became clear that the weather was awful until Sunday, the client pulled the plug on the job and the ship turned south and headed for our home port of Great Yarmouth.

And then the news that three of the four engineers would not be needed, and so we have been making plans to go home tomorrow. Or I would have done had I not slept in until ten this evening, and the only plans I could make were for the hire car in the morning. So, back to Dover sometime after nine, and no need to call in to see the house or Mother.

Aah yes, the house. In a miricle, we have found a buyer for the house in Lowestoft, and are going through the process of getting contracts written out and all sorts of paperwork filled in. Or Julie is. As I have been at sea. But, it seems to be going well, and although I am not counting my chickens about the sale, I am at least checking recipes.

We had to slash the price of the house; I can't lie it hurt. But the question is how much did we want to sell it and so move on with our own plans? The truth is that all houses are down, and so our reduced money will buy the same amount of bricks and mortar as the original asking price. Just how bad do they want to sell?

So, this week I have mortgages to arrange and maybe plan on looking in on some houses, and thinking of our future. Yes, it's all exciting stuff in our life. And I mean that in a good way. Once upon a time exciting meant divorces, family dying and mad ex-spouses trying to get me thrown in jail. This is just good stuff.

An old school friend joined me on the ship; and we passed the long nights with tales of our shared past. He also joined the RAF as an armourer, but we never met, and it was only through Friends Reunited that we caught up and found out about our shared experiences. So, once he got out of the mob, I put him in contact with the company, and they snapped him up right away. And so we have been jolly boys on the seven seas and in the pubs of downtown Grimsby.

Other than that, life goes on. I have to decide whether to seek a job with another better organised company, or stick with this one whilst the economy takes a run and jump off a cliff. Being in the oil business, we have a bumper pay award this year, and that softens the blow of staying with acompany that can't organise a pee up in a brewery. Or at least my department can't.

I can't even say that I know how long I will be home for; a day, a week, a month? I just don't know. No e mails from the office, and indeed there is a little confusion even if I am supposed to be getting off in the morning. But having been told unoffically that I am, transport is now arranged and plans beginning to be made for Julie's birthday at the weekend.

So a couple of days either organising our furture or in front of the PC at home or if I feel so inclined, sorting through the parts of my bachelor lifestyle that Julie has cleared from the house this weekend. Well, having this time off now I have no excuses not to do it.

See you on the other side.