Monday 5 June, 2017
The man with no title
It could be worse, I think the man in the iron underpants had it worse (he was in Black Adder). We are at the Poole library having not read the Condor Ferry text that the ferry had changed its departure time to 8 am. We arrived a few minutes after it left. The departure time was changed because of impending ferocious weather. All those who made it aboard will spend the first 30 minutes telling each other how lucky they were to make the sailing. The rest of the trip will be spent shouting ralph on to the great white flushable phone. I recall, one time (on a sailing ship), a partly eaten apple rolling back and forth in a washroom for three days while trainees lay about groaning and wanting to die. Wanting to die is the last stage of sea sickness. When I worked on the ferries, it was company policy for crew not to wear life jackets in the passenger areas during foul weather.
The reality, of course, is that, as a rule, ships will go further than people. In the main, the worst will be broken fixtures (perhaps no one secured the pokie machines), lost gear (the inflatable washed off the side), and diced carrots all over the shop. Usually ships founder because of human error, not because they are overwhelmed by weather. Also, ships seldom founder.
It is obvious that I am now the man with no title. J has said that I am the Chief Head Banger, mainly because the Swan Hotel in LB had the television hung off the wall in a very stupid place. It took me three goes to get it into my head that I needed to duck. I am not accepting the title of CHB and I think it is rude for that title to be suggested. Equally a bald head with sticking plaster on top is not the best look.
I had a bunch of stuff to write about today, I intended to write my way across to the Channel Islands. I think we will still get there, but not till Wednesday. This will leave Thursday for a day trip to Sark, then on to St Malo on Friday. In the meantime, we have some extra time to explore Poole.