Well I seem to have a new pal on board. Jarina has decided that I am good company. She is married to the piano player in the Bulgarian band. (She is the singer) The trio who plays in the Centrum by the white piano.
I sat with them at dinner the other day. I had just heard about my son Lee’s sky diving misadventure, and I was telling her his news, and she was laughing out loud. “Oh man you are so funny” she said. Well I had an audience then didn’t I. So she got to hear the story of the superglue and my glasses, the Swiss army knife, the whole repertoire. She was rolling under the table practically. She had to keep stopping me, so she could translate into Bulgarian for her husband Peter. Then she told me that she “added a little salt” to the translation. Which I suppose means she spiced the story up a bit more. So after my adding poetic licence to events and her adding a little salt, I think I am going down as a Bulgarian Comic Genius. I think I did see Peter actually smile!
The next day they were at dinner again. Peter said in his bad English. She hasn’t stopped laughing for 24 hours. This is good now I don’t have to bother to talk to her.
So yesterday she said she would show me another internet place in Corfu where you can use wifi. So we got off the ship together and took the Shuttle bus into town. Her internet place was shut, so I said I would show her the one I go to. “How far Darlink?” She said in her Bulgarian Urther Kitt accent I explained that it was maybe only 10 minutes walk. It was one Oclock. We got there at 2.30. I hadn’t factored in the fact that she wanted to call in at every bloody clothes shop on the way. I remember something I had observed once before clothes shopping with women. I suggested that the changing areas should have a bar for the men to sit at. As the women come out of the cubicles every body could comment on what each others female companion looked like in their prospective purchases. A kind of fashion show. As I waited I amused myself thinking about that idea. At one point I decided to play the gay companion, “Very nice dear, would you like me to ask them if they do it in your shape?” She told me I was alarmingly good at that! I noticed as she was trying on the third outfit, the music going off in the store. By then it was 2pm. I said you need to hurry I think the lights are about to go out. Sure enough CLICK, one by one the shop lights went off leaving different parts of the place in darkness.
As I waited I started to develop my plan for a clothes shop with a mens bar idea even further. Hell if it had free wireless too, then we wouldn’t need to go to the internet place. It could even have a web cam, It is an idea that could go international. But then I suppose when the women come out of the cubicle to show themselves off, they would be ignored, because all the blokes would be looking over each others shoulders at some cutie one of them found on a web cam in the swim suit section in another branch in California!
So we eventually got to the internet place. I spoke to Lee and then I said to her hey it is 3 now we should start to get back to the ship. “Just another half an hour Darlink, ve ave plenty of time.” So then I thought who could I Skype now.
I was starting to panic. She was showing no sign of getting moving. I knew that we had an at least half hour walk back to the ship, that is direct walking, no stops. And she was experiencing cramps and the ship was leaving at 4.30. Eventually we got back aboard and went straight up to the windjammer café for food. When we finished eating she said. “You see we have walked back to the ship we have eaten and it is still now only 4.30. Why did you panic?” She got up to get a sweet and she said “Don’t get up it hurts too much” She was right we had been walking so hard to get back and then sat down to eat. My legs just wanted to give out under me when I got out of my seat. I walked round the other tables and involuntarily did the walking down stairs mime and disappeared from view. All I could hear was this hysterical laughter. She started talking to one of the Bulgarian waitresses in their language. “I am sorry she said I was talking in my language” I said I thought it was a PMT thing making her talk backwards. Well that what it sounds like to me “Vrup Brug Blod vick numbording” I said. I don’t know what it means but it made her laugh.
It’s dead easy being funny in Bulgarian!
Sunday, 11 November 2007
Is fast food eco friendly'? and what never to say to an Elton John Tribute act!
Hi It was “a little bit funny” last night. I had this woman come up to me and say “Oh I really enjoyed your show last night, your Elton John was fantastic last night. I really enjoyed listening to you, and wasn’t the band good?” I replied to her “Wel thank you so much it is so nice of you to pay me such a wonderful compliment, It is always nice to have people say nice things, but I am afraid I have a confession to make. It wasn’t me!” She wouldn’t have it she was convinced that she had been watching me! It was Jonathan Kane, a headline Elton John Tribute Show In the theatre with the band!
I had an email from Jennifer in Kentucky. She is all excited because her company is doing business with a firm called YUM who owns KFC Pizza Hut and lots of other fast food brands. It is going to mean big opportunities for her. She is the company environmental consultant.
It has just occurred to me. Are fast food joints environmental at all? Isn’t this a contradiction, in so many ways? For One, I noticed in Venice, a lot of Mc Donalds waste paper and cups littered in the street. I actually went into the Mc Donalds in Venice today when I went to pick up my glasses. I had a Mac chicken burger. There were pigeons in the restaurant. Not just on the terrace, in the restaurant! Walking around the floor picking up scraps, and flying over head. Some people regard them as flying rats. I found it amusing that it was acceptable for everybody to be sat down with them all around, but it would be a different story if there were rats scurrying around your feet. Pigeons are worst, they go airborne. Thought that mayonnaise had a peculiar taste!
I have just had a thought. After I ordered my Mac Chicken Burger, I noticed one of the pigeons had gone missing. You don’t suppose Mc Donalds in Venice have already gone environmental do you?
As I was walking into Venice, I saw this guy walking my way. He looked like he was not familiar with the place, so I guessed he was trying to find his way into the town. As he got nearer, I wondered whether I recognised him. He was bald, a bit taller than me and heavy build, but of all things he had a look about him that prompted me to ask him. “Are you Jonathan?” yes he replied in an English northern accent. It was Jonathan Kane the Elton John act on the ship. I had never met him before, had only seen him in his fantastic show where it turns out he wears a wig. Well now I was even more impressed with him, because he has obviously gone to a huge amount of trouble to develop his act. On stage his mannerisms and not only singing voice but speaking voice is Elton to a tee. He even perfected the way Elton walks with his stumpy short little legs. Off stage in the street. Nothing like him, it is all in the act! How different to those sad prats that walk around all day looking like Elvis. We chatted for a while. I told him I live in Spain, he said isn’t it funny how we have all moved away. Or was it “It’s a little bit funny!” He now lives in France.
I told him that I thought he pulled off Elton John very well. Then realised what an unfortunate choice of words I used. I mean that has got to be the one thing not to say to an Elton John Tribute act! Along with what one Elton tribute act should never say on introducing them selves to another Elton tribute act. “Hello I’m Simon, I’ve been known to pull off Elton John on occasions as well!” We went our separate ways before we got to the Rialto Bridge. He probably thought he would get away from me before I offered to come over and fill his slot in the event that he was ever too busy!
I had an email from Jennifer in Kentucky. She is all excited because her company is doing business with a firm called YUM who owns KFC Pizza Hut and lots of other fast food brands. It is going to mean big opportunities for her. She is the company environmental consultant.
It has just occurred to me. Are fast food joints environmental at all? Isn’t this a contradiction, in so many ways? For One, I noticed in Venice, a lot of Mc Donalds waste paper and cups littered in the street. I actually went into the Mc Donalds in Venice today when I went to pick up my glasses. I had a Mac chicken burger. There were pigeons in the restaurant. Not just on the terrace, in the restaurant! Walking around the floor picking up scraps, and flying over head. Some people regard them as flying rats. I found it amusing that it was acceptable for everybody to be sat down with them all around, but it would be a different story if there were rats scurrying around your feet. Pigeons are worst, they go airborne. Thought that mayonnaise had a peculiar taste!
I have just had a thought. After I ordered my Mac Chicken Burger, I noticed one of the pigeons had gone missing. You don’t suppose Mc Donalds in Venice have already gone environmental do you?
As I was walking into Venice, I saw this guy walking my way. He looked like he was not familiar with the place, so I guessed he was trying to find his way into the town. As he got nearer, I wondered whether I recognised him. He was bald, a bit taller than me and heavy build, but of all things he had a look about him that prompted me to ask him. “Are you Jonathan?” yes he replied in an English northern accent. It was Jonathan Kane the Elton John act on the ship. I had never met him before, had only seen him in his fantastic show where it turns out he wears a wig. Well now I was even more impressed with him, because he has obviously gone to a huge amount of trouble to develop his act. On stage his mannerisms and not only singing voice but speaking voice is Elton to a tee. He even perfected the way Elton walks with his stumpy short little legs. Off stage in the street. Nothing like him, it is all in the act! How different to those sad prats that walk around all day looking like Elvis. We chatted for a while. I told him I live in Spain, he said isn’t it funny how we have all moved away. Or was it “It’s a little bit funny!” He now lives in France.
I told him that I thought he pulled off Elton John very well. Then realised what an unfortunate choice of words I used. I mean that has got to be the one thing not to say to an Elton John Tribute act! Along with what one Elton tribute act should never say on introducing them selves to another Elton tribute act. “Hello I’m Simon, I’ve been known to pull off Elton John on occasions as well!” We went our separate ways before we got to the Rialto Bridge. He probably thought he would get away from me before I offered to come over and fill his slot in the event that he was ever too busy!
Wednesday, 26 September 2007
Torrevieja Twinned With Karaokeville
Hi
It is Wednesday, another morning on board the splendour of the seas. It was my night off last night, so I went to dinner late, took in a show, had a wonder around the ship watching music in the other bars. One bar The top hat lounge had a trio. Keyboard Girl singer and a bass player who also doubles on trombone. I noticed that most of their music was tracks which disappointed me. Then when they finished, the bass player went round all the tables trying to sell CD’s. What on earth are they selling I thought. A midi track with some body singing on. Karaoke really. I thought I so could not do that!
After that I went down to my Schooner Bar. The quiz had finished and Karaoke was just starting, I sat at the bar, and immediately there was a Jack and Coke, in front of me. Then I got to thinking about my business. My business is being taken over by people who do what I do badly. Musicians don’t actually play any more. You don’t need to learn to play an instrument any more, just buy karaoke tracks or midi files. And if you can’t sing either, no problem just run a Karaoke. What is hard to take on is that these bastardisations of my business seem to have become more popular than the real thing. Public expectations have been dumbed down to such a degree that artistic interpretation means nothing. If it sound exactly like the record, who cares if they are listening to a live performance, or actually to the record itself.
This is when I got thinking about whether this culture of complete professional inability was being rewarded in other walks of life. It was at this point that, after some consideration, that I came to the decision that perhaps Torrevieja could be renamed Karaokeville.
It would appear that the whole town is populated by people who do their jobs badly. People work their early years in Britain, get a bit of money behind them, and decide that they are going to chase the dream. Move to Torrevieja open a bar, and run it badly.
Or builders. If a builder is really successful in Britain. He will make enough money to retire in Spain. It is only the unsuccessful ones that need to continue working. And if they were unsuccessful in Britain. Then they are going to be a double disaster in Spain.
Why do people who would never have considered such a job in Britain, time and time again imagine that they could run a successful bar or restaurant in Spain. Torrevieja is now littered with commercial areas which are over populated by bars and take aways which are scratching a living. Every now and then there is a success story. But they are going to have to share their market with the continuous stream of incompetent hopefuls, who follow in the footsteps of previous failures in lemming over the cliff like fashion. Cheap food in badly run establishments is readily available to the public, subsidised by, and this is the sad part, the hard earned life savings of these people who are misguided enough to imagine that earning a living in Spain is easy.
If you have a lot of capital. making money in Spain is easy! I have been in Spain long enough to witness this. Acquire an attractive venue. If it is a total white elephant more the better. Lease it out to one of these hopefuls. They will proudly invest a proportion of their capital on the premises of their new venture, then one of two things will happen. By some miracle they will make a go of it, in which case they at some time will want to buy you out. You make money. Or they will run it into the ground and after all the money has gone will abscond. You will be left with the venue now improved to re let at a higher rent to the next hopeful. And you make money.
People come to Spain for their much looked forward to annual holiday, see expats “Living the dream” and based on the two weeks of bliss on holiday, allow themselves to become seduced by the thought of upping sticks and moving out here.
Fifteen Twenty years ago. Expats were pioneers. Embracing a foreign culture. That was the dream. Oh how different it is today. We need to introduce new Japanese words to describe the new wave of amateurism engulfing Torrevieja. Simply you just put “aoke” on the end of the name of a noble profession. Builder-aoke, Mechanic-aoke, Estate Agent-aoke, and don’t forget Karaoke-aoke!
It is Wednesday, another morning on board the splendour of the seas. It was my night off last night, so I went to dinner late, took in a show, had a wonder around the ship watching music in the other bars. One bar The top hat lounge had a trio. Keyboard Girl singer and a bass player who also doubles on trombone. I noticed that most of their music was tracks which disappointed me. Then when they finished, the bass player went round all the tables trying to sell CD’s. What on earth are they selling I thought. A midi track with some body singing on. Karaoke really. I thought I so could not do that!
After that I went down to my Schooner Bar. The quiz had finished and Karaoke was just starting, I sat at the bar, and immediately there was a Jack and Coke, in front of me. Then I got to thinking about my business. My business is being taken over by people who do what I do badly. Musicians don’t actually play any more. You don’t need to learn to play an instrument any more, just buy karaoke tracks or midi files. And if you can’t sing either, no problem just run a Karaoke. What is hard to take on is that these bastardisations of my business seem to have become more popular than the real thing. Public expectations have been dumbed down to such a degree that artistic interpretation means nothing. If it sound exactly like the record, who cares if they are listening to a live performance, or actually to the record itself.
This is when I got thinking about whether this culture of complete professional inability was being rewarded in other walks of life. It was at this point that, after some consideration, that I came to the decision that perhaps Torrevieja could be renamed Karaokeville.
It would appear that the whole town is populated by people who do their jobs badly. People work their early years in Britain, get a bit of money behind them, and decide that they are going to chase the dream. Move to Torrevieja open a bar, and run it badly.
Or builders. If a builder is really successful in Britain. He will make enough money to retire in Spain. It is only the unsuccessful ones that need to continue working. And if they were unsuccessful in Britain. Then they are going to be a double disaster in Spain.
Why do people who would never have considered such a job in Britain, time and time again imagine that they could run a successful bar or restaurant in Spain. Torrevieja is now littered with commercial areas which are over populated by bars and take aways which are scratching a living. Every now and then there is a success story. But they are going to have to share their market with the continuous stream of incompetent hopefuls, who follow in the footsteps of previous failures in lemming over the cliff like fashion. Cheap food in badly run establishments is readily available to the public, subsidised by, and this is the sad part, the hard earned life savings of these people who are misguided enough to imagine that earning a living in Spain is easy.
If you have a lot of capital. making money in Spain is easy! I have been in Spain long enough to witness this. Acquire an attractive venue. If it is a total white elephant more the better. Lease it out to one of these hopefuls. They will proudly invest a proportion of their capital on the premises of their new venture, then one of two things will happen. By some miracle they will make a go of it, in which case they at some time will want to buy you out. You make money. Or they will run it into the ground and after all the money has gone will abscond. You will be left with the venue now improved to re let at a higher rent to the next hopeful. And you make money.
People come to Spain for their much looked forward to annual holiday, see expats “Living the dream” and based on the two weeks of bliss on holiday, allow themselves to become seduced by the thought of upping sticks and moving out here.
Fifteen Twenty years ago. Expats were pioneers. Embracing a foreign culture. That was the dream. Oh how different it is today. We need to introduce new Japanese words to describe the new wave of amateurism engulfing Torrevieja. Simply you just put “aoke” on the end of the name of a noble profession. Builder-aoke, Mechanic-aoke, Estate Agent-aoke, and don’t forget Karaoke-aoke!
Wednesday, 15 August 2007
Cars and Insurance
In September 2005, I decided I needed to replace my car. After much searching around I discovered that to get anything within my requirements, Diesel, mid range, estate or hatchback at the very least, I was going to have to spend at least seven and a half thousand euros. Then I would be buying a car about five years old which was probably an ex rental or lease vehicle.
A fact you have to accept when you buy a car is that you have three choices.
a/ Buy new. A huge initial outlay, immediate depreciation in value but a car that is as reliable as it gets.
b/ Buy second hand. And maintain. Lower initial out lay but the probability of higher maintenance costs. Risky, but if you don’t want to run to the price of a new car. That’s the choice
c/ Buy second hand and cheap and run the thing until it dies. No thank you! At my time of life, I deserve more, and am prepared to pay more.
The car show rooms I visited made it clear to me that to obtain a car in my budget range, they were indeed doing me a great favour. I was shown two Renault Megan Estates year 2000. The first had dents on every corner, bald tyres, a filthy engine compartment and 60,000 Kms on the clock. I was not impressed. They showed me the second later on that day. They put it through the car wash and it was there engine running with air conditioning on full blast. I took it for a test drive. It was a welcome escape from the summer heat, I decided I could live with this! I was pleased with it.
Looked in the engine compartment, like a new clock. A power unit that you would be proud to lift the bonnet on one lazy Sunday morning when you think it is about time you checked the oil, radiator and fill the water squirters. In fact on a modern car, that is about all you can do yourself these days.
In terms of looking at the engine and showing off your knowledge of the internal combustion engine, pointing it’s basic components out to grandchildren. Forget it! No more “That down there is the Starter motor next to the alternator below the radiator which cools the water which cools the engine. That is the distributor cap, there is the coil that makes the spark and over there is the carb. That is short for carburettor” Now it is “That is the plastic cowling that keeps the dust of the engine, and those pipes are something to do with the Power steering, aircon, turbo, thrusters, fuel injection, space warp drive thingy! Oh I don’t know, ask your mother!”
Any way after some negotiation for the repair and tarting up of some minor body work scratches, I stretched my budget and bought the thing for seven and a half thousand euros. I was very happy with the car and I managed to negotiate insurance through the same dealer fully comp and paying twice yearly.
I took delivery of my car a week or so later and was delighted with the economy and freedom it provided me with. When winter came, I went in it to work in England. It was about then that I turned off the air conditioning. That was when I discovered why the dealers had tried to sell me the other car first, and why the air conditioning was set to it’s coldest and more to the point, loudest setting. It drowned out the sound of the failing clutch mechanism which occurred whenever you put your foot on the clutch pedal. It wasn’t until my return to Spain, that I was able to get this repaired. The cost was six hundred euros.
Then during the course of 2006, I replaced tyres, fitted a really nice radio CD, replaced an electric window motor, all in all gladly invested a further thousand or so euros in general servicing and maintenance of the car. Following this vehicle husbandry routine I can safely say, that my seven and a half thousand euro Renault Megan was a better maintained car than it was when I bought it, and represented a much higher investment to me than the original purchase price. By this time it was May 2007. This is when it was stolen!
So reports had to be made to police. This was when I realised I had no idea what the registration number was, I could check the documents. No I cannot. In Spain you are required by law to carry vehicle document originals in the car, along with insurance documents and copies of your passport or identity card. The only reason I can think for this, is so when the car is stolen, the thief has all the necessary paperwork in his possession to legally transfer the car into his name! All my insurance documents where in the car. I hadn’t a clue what the name was of the insurance company was. I eventually checked my bank statement and found the name on a direct debit.
So the Insurance company was contacted re the claim. They asked for all the paper work. I told them that was stolen with the car and they requested a load of other stuff which involved queuing in the Alicante Traffico for three weeks, and now as we approach middle of August I have heard that the insurance company would like to pay me four thousand two hundred Euros.
I know that there is an understanding within the insurance industry, that to claim on insurance should never put you into more advantageous position than had it not been necessary. Well believe me there is no danger of that in this case!
If I take my four thousand two hundred euros back to the dealer where I bought my car and say “That car I bought off you was stolen, but it is ok because I have the insurance money, so can I have another one please” I just know that there is not going to be enough money there. So how and why have they come up with this figure?
Suma attached a value of five and a half thousand euros to my car for taxation purposes. I would be lucky to replace it for that, but it is a more realistic value and using contacts I have in the motor trade, I would be in with a fighting chance.
Any money that I have to spend on maintenance as before is lost I know. That money was not insured, neither was my favourite CD’s, which also went, but the car was.
So come on Insurance industry. Give us a chance. It’s bad enough, inconvenient enough, upsetting enough and costly enough, having our cars stolen in the first place without having to run the gauntlet with your greedy claims department. You’ve had my premiums on time with no question for 35 years.
Now it’s your turn to get real and pay out gracefully!
A fact you have to accept when you buy a car is that you have three choices.
a/ Buy new. A huge initial outlay, immediate depreciation in value but a car that is as reliable as it gets.
b/ Buy second hand. And maintain. Lower initial out lay but the probability of higher maintenance costs. Risky, but if you don’t want to run to the price of a new car. That’s the choice
c/ Buy second hand and cheap and run the thing until it dies. No thank you! At my time of life, I deserve more, and am prepared to pay more.
The car show rooms I visited made it clear to me that to obtain a car in my budget range, they were indeed doing me a great favour. I was shown two Renault Megan Estates year 2000. The first had dents on every corner, bald tyres, a filthy engine compartment and 60,000 Kms on the clock. I was not impressed. They showed me the second later on that day. They put it through the car wash and it was there engine running with air conditioning on full blast. I took it for a test drive. It was a welcome escape from the summer heat, I decided I could live with this! I was pleased with it.
Looked in the engine compartment, like a new clock. A power unit that you would be proud to lift the bonnet on one lazy Sunday morning when you think it is about time you checked the oil, radiator and fill the water squirters. In fact on a modern car, that is about all you can do yourself these days.
In terms of looking at the engine and showing off your knowledge of the internal combustion engine, pointing it’s basic components out to grandchildren. Forget it! No more “That down there is the Starter motor next to the alternator below the radiator which cools the water which cools the engine. That is the distributor cap, there is the coil that makes the spark and over there is the carb. That is short for carburettor” Now it is “That is the plastic cowling that keeps the dust of the engine, and those pipes are something to do with the Power steering, aircon, turbo, thrusters, fuel injection, space warp drive thingy! Oh I don’t know, ask your mother!”
Any way after some negotiation for the repair and tarting up of some minor body work scratches, I stretched my budget and bought the thing for seven and a half thousand euros. I was very happy with the car and I managed to negotiate insurance through the same dealer fully comp and paying twice yearly.
I took delivery of my car a week or so later and was delighted with the economy and freedom it provided me with. When winter came, I went in it to work in England. It was about then that I turned off the air conditioning. That was when I discovered why the dealers had tried to sell me the other car first, and why the air conditioning was set to it’s coldest and more to the point, loudest setting. It drowned out the sound of the failing clutch mechanism which occurred whenever you put your foot on the clutch pedal. It wasn’t until my return to Spain, that I was able to get this repaired. The cost was six hundred euros.
Then during the course of 2006, I replaced tyres, fitted a really nice radio CD, replaced an electric window motor, all in all gladly invested a further thousand or so euros in general servicing and maintenance of the car. Following this vehicle husbandry routine I can safely say, that my seven and a half thousand euro Renault Megan was a better maintained car than it was when I bought it, and represented a much higher investment to me than the original purchase price. By this time it was May 2007. This is when it was stolen!
So reports had to be made to police. This was when I realised I had no idea what the registration number was, I could check the documents. No I cannot. In Spain you are required by law to carry vehicle document originals in the car, along with insurance documents and copies of your passport or identity card. The only reason I can think for this, is so when the car is stolen, the thief has all the necessary paperwork in his possession to legally transfer the car into his name! All my insurance documents where in the car. I hadn’t a clue what the name was of the insurance company was. I eventually checked my bank statement and found the name on a direct debit.
So the Insurance company was contacted re the claim. They asked for all the paper work. I told them that was stolen with the car and they requested a load of other stuff which involved queuing in the Alicante Traffico for three weeks, and now as we approach middle of August I have heard that the insurance company would like to pay me four thousand two hundred Euros.
I know that there is an understanding within the insurance industry, that to claim on insurance should never put you into more advantageous position than had it not been necessary. Well believe me there is no danger of that in this case!
If I take my four thousand two hundred euros back to the dealer where I bought my car and say “That car I bought off you was stolen, but it is ok because I have the insurance money, so can I have another one please” I just know that there is not going to be enough money there. So how and why have they come up with this figure?
Suma attached a value of five and a half thousand euros to my car for taxation purposes. I would be lucky to replace it for that, but it is a more realistic value and using contacts I have in the motor trade, I would be in with a fighting chance.
Any money that I have to spend on maintenance as before is lost I know. That money was not insured, neither was my favourite CD’s, which also went, but the car was.
So come on Insurance industry. Give us a chance. It’s bad enough, inconvenient enough, upsetting enough and costly enough, having our cars stolen in the first place without having to run the gauntlet with your greedy claims department. You’ve had my premiums on time with no question for 35 years.
Now it’s your turn to get real and pay out gracefully!
Monday, 13 August 2007
My Cabin Mate Fred
It would appear that contrary to my contractual agreement on board this magnificent ship Voyager of the Seas, I do in fact share a cabin. His name is Fred (well that is what I have come to know him as) and he is a fruit fly.
Fortunately for Fred, I am no longer the little boy who used to spend many a summer afternoon in my grandmothers garden rockery, tormenting lady birds and ants with my god like powers over life or death. These days I have a slightly more Budistic out look to the notion of life. I say “slightly”, because it will probably take more than this lifetime for the degree of my live and let live mantra to come close to be extended to the cockroach UGH! and rather a lot of anti social human beings who’s purpose of existence completely elude me in my current limited state of enlightenment. But hey!, that is another article.
So I am quite happy to co exist with Fred in my cabin. He keeps himself pretty much to him self, despite the fact that I think he may be a fruit fly in more ways than one. Well he does rather like to hog the TV screen when Will and Grace is on!
I woke this morning, and we were docked in Nice France in the bay of Villefranche. As I opened my eyes and accustomed myself to the new day, I saw Fred flying across my line of vision and he was motoring! It got me thinking about his world. Are fruit flies curious about their environment. Probably not . Hell I can think of a lot of humans who don’t concern themselves beyond where their next beer comes from. I know lots musicians you see. So why would Fred be curious of anything beyond his immediate needs for food and water. Oh and maybe another fruit fly called Jack or Woderwick.
But what if he was curious, what would he make of his world, my cabin? Would he be tempted to venture away from this safe environment? He seems to like to go into my bathroom. Maybe he lives on water and toothpaste. What if I left my cabin door open long enough for him to venture beyond what he knows?
Up to now he seems to be content to spend his time in this cabin. He can fly around the dressing table, surf the draft blowing from the air vents, watch TV and gaze out of the port hole. Every seven days he can see a return to the same spot. Has he learnt about the cycle of his universe. Has he noticed that other ship “The Ocean Village Two” is visible like Haleys Comet every seventy fruit fly years or seven human days ?
If I was Fred, I’d be tempted to venture from the security of his world, my cabin, his first revelation would be. Hell we are not alone! In fact there is a whole matrix beyond this cabin world, of other cabin worlds. Thousands and thousands of them. I wouldn’t blame him if he didn’t come back. He could find himself very easily in the crew mess just across the corridor. Probably loads of other fruit flies in there and maybe even some fruit! Come to think of it, that is probably where he started off from, and his original curiosity is what bought him to my cabin! I can just hear his protest “Oh so this is Fruit!!. And to think I have been living on sodding toothpaste for most of my life!”
He would eventually find that his world is a floating city, that orbits the Mediterranean once every seven days. If he took the window of opportunity offered him, he could prepare himself for a voyage of discovery and escape to the open deck and take a giant leap for Fruit Fly Kind across the water to the “Ocean Village Two” and find out what life is like on there. Where will the orbit of that vessel take him? In seven days it ‘s path will converge on Voyager once more, so he could return and find his way back to my cabin. All the better off for his world expanding adventures. Hell, the way we co habit together, He goes his way, I go mine, He keeps himself to his self, I keep myself to my self, we seldom talk, I might not even have noticed that he had been gone!
And all these worlds of this fruit fly exist in the Mediterranean. Which I know is a small part of our planet, which in turn orbits around our solar system, within our galaxy in the universe, which I, and Fred in his delicious ignorance, are both part of.
I may be billions of times larger than Fred, but if there is validity at all to my existence, there surely must be just as much to his. In terms of perspective in regard to the universe, we may just as well be the same size because comparatively to the vastness of creation, we are both mere microdots. Existing during a brief flash of awareness in a timeline of billions of light years that if our creator was to blink, he would surely miss.
Fred knows about hunger, and thirst, and probably has an instinct to reproduce. What does he know of fear, debt, poverty, cruelty, jealousy, disasters, greed. I envy him because these are human conditions which trouble us and are of no concern to the fortunate fruit fly. But Music, Beauty, Creativity, Curiosity for our world are all concepts that have inspired and enlightened the human mind. I don’t want to loose those things, so I wouldn’t want to change places with Fred.
Sorry. My fruit fly friend with the toothpaste smile!
Fortunately for Fred, I am no longer the little boy who used to spend many a summer afternoon in my grandmothers garden rockery, tormenting lady birds and ants with my god like powers over life or death. These days I have a slightly more Budistic out look to the notion of life. I say “slightly”, because it will probably take more than this lifetime for the degree of my live and let live mantra to come close to be extended to the cockroach UGH! and rather a lot of anti social human beings who’s purpose of existence completely elude me in my current limited state of enlightenment. But hey!, that is another article.
So I am quite happy to co exist with Fred in my cabin. He keeps himself pretty much to him self, despite the fact that I think he may be a fruit fly in more ways than one. Well he does rather like to hog the TV screen when Will and Grace is on!
I woke this morning, and we were docked in Nice France in the bay of Villefranche. As I opened my eyes and accustomed myself to the new day, I saw Fred flying across my line of vision and he was motoring! It got me thinking about his world. Are fruit flies curious about their environment. Probably not . Hell I can think of a lot of humans who don’t concern themselves beyond where their next beer comes from. I know lots musicians you see. So why would Fred be curious of anything beyond his immediate needs for food and water. Oh and maybe another fruit fly called Jack or Woderwick.
But what if he was curious, what would he make of his world, my cabin? Would he be tempted to venture away from this safe environment? He seems to like to go into my bathroom. Maybe he lives on water and toothpaste. What if I left my cabin door open long enough for him to venture beyond what he knows?
Up to now he seems to be content to spend his time in this cabin. He can fly around the dressing table, surf the draft blowing from the air vents, watch TV and gaze out of the port hole. Every seven days he can see a return to the same spot. Has he learnt about the cycle of his universe. Has he noticed that other ship “The Ocean Village Two” is visible like Haleys Comet every seventy fruit fly years or seven human days ?
If I was Fred, I’d be tempted to venture from the security of his world, my cabin, his first revelation would be. Hell we are not alone! In fact there is a whole matrix beyond this cabin world, of other cabin worlds. Thousands and thousands of them. I wouldn’t blame him if he didn’t come back. He could find himself very easily in the crew mess just across the corridor. Probably loads of other fruit flies in there and maybe even some fruit! Come to think of it, that is probably where he started off from, and his original curiosity is what bought him to my cabin! I can just hear his protest “Oh so this is Fruit!!. And to think I have been living on sodding toothpaste for most of my life!”
He would eventually find that his world is a floating city, that orbits the Mediterranean once every seven days. If he took the window of opportunity offered him, he could prepare himself for a voyage of discovery and escape to the open deck and take a giant leap for Fruit Fly Kind across the water to the “Ocean Village Two” and find out what life is like on there. Where will the orbit of that vessel take him? In seven days it ‘s path will converge on Voyager once more, so he could return and find his way back to my cabin. All the better off for his world expanding adventures. Hell, the way we co habit together, He goes his way, I go mine, He keeps himself to his self, I keep myself to my self, we seldom talk, I might not even have noticed that he had been gone!
And all these worlds of this fruit fly exist in the Mediterranean. Which I know is a small part of our planet, which in turn orbits around our solar system, within our galaxy in the universe, which I, and Fred in his delicious ignorance, are both part of.
I may be billions of times larger than Fred, but if there is validity at all to my existence, there surely must be just as much to his. In terms of perspective in regard to the universe, we may just as well be the same size because comparatively to the vastness of creation, we are both mere microdots. Existing during a brief flash of awareness in a timeline of billions of light years that if our creator was to blink, he would surely miss.
Fred knows about hunger, and thirst, and probably has an instinct to reproduce. What does he know of fear, debt, poverty, cruelty, jealousy, disasters, greed. I envy him because these are human conditions which trouble us and are of no concern to the fortunate fruit fly. But Music, Beauty, Creativity, Curiosity for our world are all concepts that have inspired and enlightened the human mind. I don’t want to loose those things, so I wouldn’t want to change places with Fred.
Sorry. My fruit fly friend with the toothpaste smile!
Friday, 10 August 2007
Test Driving My Swiss Army Knife
Isn’t it funny how when you don’t really know how you are going to follow one amusing article with another, life provides the answer.
A few different things seem to have come into play that bought together,r provide the unlikely ingredient for an anecdote.
First of all I have started reading Jeremy Clarkson’s You Got Soul. A book where he comments about various machines and gives them the Top Gear review treatment. This kind of made me receptive to the idea of considering the merits of gadgets I have come across.
Then, I had to sit in at a fire training session this morning where we were shown various fire fighting systems on board . The one that comes to mind most is the sprinkler system that is present in every space on the ship. It is a special design nozzle that does not merely sprinkle but forms a mist of fine water particles that will cover a large surface area very quickly and with a minimum of liquid. The resulting action is that it cools the area and removes oxygen from the fire, thus tackling two sides of the triangle of fire. Design engineers spent decades developing this nozzle to optimise it’s efficiency.
Little did I know that later on in the day I was to inadvertently produce a similar effect using two household objects which I had in my cabin. My new Swiss army knife and a bottle of 1919 Maltese Red Wine.
Any one who has seen my office at home could be forgiven for thinking that it is a mess. Basically because it is full of junk that one day I will throw out. As I walk around the ship I sometimes get the opportunity to pear into fellow crew members cabins, and my surprise is that many of them appear to bring their junk with them. What do they do? Pack a second suitcase of crap to make them feel at home? I certainly do not. I get a kick out of being minimalist with my kit. My cabin is the most tidy environment I have ever existed in because I have no junk, everything I have is needed, removed from my large pink suitcase and stowed in the cupboards and drawers provided.
I have an inventory of kit which sustains my existence efficiently whilst at sea. It can be compacted into my Pink suitcase for travel. Everything has a purpose some things more than one, and needs to be fit for that purpose. My most precious possession and most used is my Laptop. It is my sheet music library, DVD player, CD player Typewriter, Communications, and a tool I use for many pastimes. I have a plastic box with several bobbins of different colours threads, thimble, Mini Scissors, three needles and an ingenious gadget for threading needles that never ceases to amaze me. I have spare pants socks, an Elton John Wig (Well you never know do you!) spare watch, mobile phone, two tubes of super glue (Stuck together) and one more addition to my collection, with all of it’s multi purpose properties, a Swiss Army Knife.
Over time I think I have owned several of these. They fall into several categories, Basic, Multi function and Multi function but crap! I have one in my cable case which I use when I am gigging which is fantastic. It is basic but it has a good blade and screwdriver bottle opener. When I first started cruising on boxing day 2006, as I packed my suitcase and peered through the top drawer in my dressing table at home I noticed another splendid example of a Multi Function Swiss army knife at the bottom of the drawer. That I thought is a must to have along with me.
To be honest I do not remember how I came to be the proud owner of such a useful looking piece of kit. Perhaps it was a present from a previous Christmas politely stowed in the top drawer and forgotten along with hairclips, earrings, nail files, batteries which belonged to a long departed wife. See when she left she didn’t feel the need to take anything with her from that drawer either. So there lies a monument to the folly of never throwing away junk!
So last night was my night off. The week before in Malta I had gone ashore and bought myself a bottle of red wine. During the week I collected a couple of glasses for my cabin so that I could eventually drink it. I retired to my cabin. James Bond was on. I know I thought I will have some wine whilst I watch the film.
So in the spirit of James Bond I took some time to study this wonderful gadget. I could almost hear “Q” saying “ Now pay attention 007 this is what on first glance appears to be a ten piece Swiss army knife. If you have one of these you have no need for any other tools. Observe bottle open attachment that doubles as a flat head screwdriver, can opener, two saw blades, scissors, posidrive screwdriver, nailfile, horses hoof manicure set , tweezers and if you are entertaining a cork screw!” Just what I need!
When I tried to actually use the cork screw, to my dismay as I twisted it into the soft cork it promptly straightened it’s self out so when I tried to remove the cork, the attachment rather more resembled a tooth pick. Well Q would have been right, at first glance this impressive piece of kit did appear to be a Swiss army knife. But!. It would appear, on closer inspection, it was in fact one of the multi functional but crap variety. Which you actually have no way of knowing merely from appearance. Until you try to use it!
On the second attempt to push the now almost perfectly straightened cork screw into the soft cork, it sheared off the knife body now permanently embedded in the cork. By now I needed a drink, and this excuse for a Swiss Army Knife needed to offer me a solution to open this bottle.
I will have to dig the cork out. I selected the can opener attachment and started excavating a ditch in the soft cork, using the tweezers to remove debris, after all I didn’t want cork pieces coming into contact with the wine. Once the hole was big enough, the saw attachment was engaged in a hope that the teeth might grip onto the cork to effect it’s removal. Next I selected the sharp blade and started slicing down through the soft cork. There was no stopping me now. I thought if I was able to push the blade through the cork I cold maybe cut it in two. Being careful not to have the sharp blade close on my fingers (I’m not stupid) I pushed evenly down on the blade as it started to slice through the soft cork.
Then in one swift unexpected movement, the cork decided to drive itself into the bottle with my full body weight behind it. The resulting plunger effect pressurised the wine into a red mist that exploded all over my cabin. Which would have given the fire sprinkler system a run for it’s money in terms of surface area coverage. My white bedclothes are spotted with wine. There is a large dripping patch on the ceiling, my shirt is damp, my bloody trousers are soaked and there are spots all over the carpet! When I tried to pour myself a glass, the cork prevented anything coming out of the bottle. I shook it slightly, and by now I had transferred this project into the sanctuary of my bathroom, the resulting torrent went all over my hands and left black stains on my sink and towels.
Had to use damp toilet paper to get the stains out of the carpet. Now I need a vacuum cleaner to remove the shards of damp toilet paper out of the carpet.
In Conclusion :-
This simple knife has succeeded in a mille second to convert my formally orderly cabin into something resembling the chaos of my office at home! Oh and my mini bar smells of stale corked wine. I hate the bloody Swiss! And I am going to throw away all my junk when I get home! Starting with all my Swiss Army Knive’s.
A few different things seem to have come into play that bought together,r provide the unlikely ingredient for an anecdote.
First of all I have started reading Jeremy Clarkson’s You Got Soul. A book where he comments about various machines and gives them the Top Gear review treatment. This kind of made me receptive to the idea of considering the merits of gadgets I have come across.
Then, I had to sit in at a fire training session this morning where we were shown various fire fighting systems on board . The one that comes to mind most is the sprinkler system that is present in every space on the ship. It is a special design nozzle that does not merely sprinkle but forms a mist of fine water particles that will cover a large surface area very quickly and with a minimum of liquid. The resulting action is that it cools the area and removes oxygen from the fire, thus tackling two sides of the triangle of fire. Design engineers spent decades developing this nozzle to optimise it’s efficiency.
Little did I know that later on in the day I was to inadvertently produce a similar effect using two household objects which I had in my cabin. My new Swiss army knife and a bottle of 1919 Maltese Red Wine.
Any one who has seen my office at home could be forgiven for thinking that it is a mess. Basically because it is full of junk that one day I will throw out. As I walk around the ship I sometimes get the opportunity to pear into fellow crew members cabins, and my surprise is that many of them appear to bring their junk with them. What do they do? Pack a second suitcase of crap to make them feel at home? I certainly do not. I get a kick out of being minimalist with my kit. My cabin is the most tidy environment I have ever existed in because I have no junk, everything I have is needed, removed from my large pink suitcase and stowed in the cupboards and drawers provided.
I have an inventory of kit which sustains my existence efficiently whilst at sea. It can be compacted into my Pink suitcase for travel. Everything has a purpose some things more than one, and needs to be fit for that purpose. My most precious possession and most used is my Laptop. It is my sheet music library, DVD player, CD player Typewriter, Communications, and a tool I use for many pastimes. I have a plastic box with several bobbins of different colours threads, thimble, Mini Scissors, three needles and an ingenious gadget for threading needles that never ceases to amaze me. I have spare pants socks, an Elton John Wig (Well you never know do you!) spare watch, mobile phone, two tubes of super glue (Stuck together) and one more addition to my collection, with all of it’s multi purpose properties, a Swiss Army Knife.
Over time I think I have owned several of these. They fall into several categories, Basic, Multi function and Multi function but crap! I have one in my cable case which I use when I am gigging which is fantastic. It is basic but it has a good blade and screwdriver bottle opener. When I first started cruising on boxing day 2006, as I packed my suitcase and peered through the top drawer in my dressing table at home I noticed another splendid example of a Multi Function Swiss army knife at the bottom of the drawer. That I thought is a must to have along with me.
To be honest I do not remember how I came to be the proud owner of such a useful looking piece of kit. Perhaps it was a present from a previous Christmas politely stowed in the top drawer and forgotten along with hairclips, earrings, nail files, batteries which belonged to a long departed wife. See when she left she didn’t feel the need to take anything with her from that drawer either. So there lies a monument to the folly of never throwing away junk!
So last night was my night off. The week before in Malta I had gone ashore and bought myself a bottle of red wine. During the week I collected a couple of glasses for my cabin so that I could eventually drink it. I retired to my cabin. James Bond was on. I know I thought I will have some wine whilst I watch the film.
So in the spirit of James Bond I took some time to study this wonderful gadget. I could almost hear “Q” saying “ Now pay attention 007 this is what on first glance appears to be a ten piece Swiss army knife. If you have one of these you have no need for any other tools. Observe bottle open attachment that doubles as a flat head screwdriver, can opener, two saw blades, scissors, posidrive screwdriver, nailfile, horses hoof manicure set , tweezers and if you are entertaining a cork screw!” Just what I need!
When I tried to actually use the cork screw, to my dismay as I twisted it into the soft cork it promptly straightened it’s self out so when I tried to remove the cork, the attachment rather more resembled a tooth pick. Well Q would have been right, at first glance this impressive piece of kit did appear to be a Swiss army knife. But!. It would appear, on closer inspection, it was in fact one of the multi functional but crap variety. Which you actually have no way of knowing merely from appearance. Until you try to use it!
On the second attempt to push the now almost perfectly straightened cork screw into the soft cork, it sheared off the knife body now permanently embedded in the cork. By now I needed a drink, and this excuse for a Swiss Army Knife needed to offer me a solution to open this bottle.
I will have to dig the cork out. I selected the can opener attachment and started excavating a ditch in the soft cork, using the tweezers to remove debris, after all I didn’t want cork pieces coming into contact with the wine. Once the hole was big enough, the saw attachment was engaged in a hope that the teeth might grip onto the cork to effect it’s removal. Next I selected the sharp blade and started slicing down through the soft cork. There was no stopping me now. I thought if I was able to push the blade through the cork I cold maybe cut it in two. Being careful not to have the sharp blade close on my fingers (I’m not stupid) I pushed evenly down on the blade as it started to slice through the soft cork.
Then in one swift unexpected movement, the cork decided to drive itself into the bottle with my full body weight behind it. The resulting plunger effect pressurised the wine into a red mist that exploded all over my cabin. Which would have given the fire sprinkler system a run for it’s money in terms of surface area coverage. My white bedclothes are spotted with wine. There is a large dripping patch on the ceiling, my shirt is damp, my bloody trousers are soaked and there are spots all over the carpet! When I tried to pour myself a glass, the cork prevented anything coming out of the bottle. I shook it slightly, and by now I had transferred this project into the sanctuary of my bathroom, the resulting torrent went all over my hands and left black stains on my sink and towels.
Had to use damp toilet paper to get the stains out of the carpet. Now I need a vacuum cleaner to remove the shards of damp toilet paper out of the carpet.
In Conclusion :-
This simple knife has succeeded in a mille second to convert my formally orderly cabin into something resembling the chaos of my office at home! Oh and my mini bar smells of stale corked wine. I hate the bloody Swiss! And I am going to throw away all my junk when I get home! Starting with all my Swiss Army Knive’s.
Wednesday, 8 August 2007
Why did I wake up with my glasses on?
Training Courses, Training Courses, and why did I wake up with my glasses still on?
Well you just cannot make this stuff up. I haven’t had chance to hook up with anyone because every morning there have been company training courses. This combined with late nights working has left me very tired in the daytime, so all I have done is rested, being careful not to burn the candle at both ends and effecting my voice.
Second night in after work I went to the officers bar after work for a drink and met Duncan the guitarist. He is from Scotland, works the Pig and Whistle, which is an English/Irish style pub on the main promenade. So we had a drink and at 3am the bar closed and he invited me back to his cabin for a beer. We took the short cut outside on the promenade deck. This is a large deck below the lifeboats and it has sun loungers, deck chairs and shuffleboard boards set into the deck. Now when that part of the deck gets damp as it does at sea, it becomes slippery. Well Duncan and I were taking a leisurely stroll when all of a sudden he felt his feet slipping from beneath him. All I felt was his hand as it flayed out to recheck his balance make contact with my face breaking my glasses and sending a lens shuffling along the shuffle board and scoring a double ten!
Poor old Duncan was mortified at the injury caused to his new buddy. I felt really sorry for him and played it down. Went for a beer with him and refused a second explaining I had to be up again early for another training session. I left his cabin and suddenly found that I was completely lost. Only one lens in my glasses made my progress even worst because I was finding it difficult to read any of the direction signs. Mind full of the mornings before lecture on zero tolerance regarding alcohol abuse, I didn’t want to draw attention to myself and I certainly didn’t want to explain my now slightly throbbing eye accident. How did we get here I thought. Of course, we went via the boat deck to get from Aft to Forward. My cabin is Aft. Duncan’s was forward. The reason why I couldn’t find my cabin was I was at the wrong end of the ship!
So half blind I made my way up to the passenger area, got my bearings and walked as steadily as I could through the army of late night cleaners and maintenance personnel to the refuge of my cabin. Set my alarm for an early start, another training session, and went to sleep.
Struggled out of bed reluctantly after what seemed like five minutes later and made my way to yet another training session. This was of particular interest to me, when we were all invited to go on a tour of the ship. The training officer said to the class, this will be the only opportunity for most of you to see the passenger areas of the ship. Wow poor sods I thought. Many of these people are on board for over 12 months and they never emerge from below decks. Many of them asked for time to run back to their cabins to get their cameras. So we went for a wonder about the ship, and I realised just how lucky I am to be able to have a free run of the place. This went on till lunchtime and I went to the officers mess for lunch. My throbbing eye reminded me that I need to think about repairing my other glasses. I asked if their was any superglue on board. Decided it would be easier to go ashore and get some. I was told that it would be better to go after siesta when the shops reopened. Good idea, I could get back to my bed for a while.
So five oclock came and I went ashore and wondered around looking for a ferretaria to get some superglue. Supercola is understood in Italian, the same as Spanish. Got back and stuck my glasses back together. By this time it was time to get back to work. 8.30 – 1-30 so a quick change and off to work, a long wearing night but enjoyable a few drinks in the crew bar and home to bed. I woke up next morning went to the bathroom and noticed in the mirror I was still wearing my glasses which surprised me because I couldn’t see that well. It was then that I noticed that a lens was missing, and the frame was securely superglued to my nose. I remembered then getting to bed and deciding to tackle that problem in the morning.
I found the lens stuck to my pillow, I managed to get the frame off my nose along with a chunk of superglue congealed skin ! now I need to reglue my glasses and perhaps give them a day or so to dry!
In Naples today, I need to go ashore and buy another tube of superglue. The one I used yesterday is stuck to my dressing table and when I tried to pull it off superglue skwirted all over my fingers which now keep trying to stick together and the bar of soap that I have been trying to wash it off with.
So I have a big red mark on the bridge of my nose webbed fingers so God only knows what impression I would create if I was able to present myself for work tonight. I say if because I have just discovered that whilst writing this article on my laptop, my elbows have become stuck to this dressing table. Help !
Well you just cannot make this stuff up. I haven’t had chance to hook up with anyone because every morning there have been company training courses. This combined with late nights working has left me very tired in the daytime, so all I have done is rested, being careful not to burn the candle at both ends and effecting my voice.
Second night in after work I went to the officers bar after work for a drink and met Duncan the guitarist. He is from Scotland, works the Pig and Whistle, which is an English/Irish style pub on the main promenade. So we had a drink and at 3am the bar closed and he invited me back to his cabin for a beer. We took the short cut outside on the promenade deck. This is a large deck below the lifeboats and it has sun loungers, deck chairs and shuffleboard boards set into the deck. Now when that part of the deck gets damp as it does at sea, it becomes slippery. Well Duncan and I were taking a leisurely stroll when all of a sudden he felt his feet slipping from beneath him. All I felt was his hand as it flayed out to recheck his balance make contact with my face breaking my glasses and sending a lens shuffling along the shuffle board and scoring a double ten!
Poor old Duncan was mortified at the injury caused to his new buddy. I felt really sorry for him and played it down. Went for a beer with him and refused a second explaining I had to be up again early for another training session. I left his cabin and suddenly found that I was completely lost. Only one lens in my glasses made my progress even worst because I was finding it difficult to read any of the direction signs. Mind full of the mornings before lecture on zero tolerance regarding alcohol abuse, I didn’t want to draw attention to myself and I certainly didn’t want to explain my now slightly throbbing eye accident. How did we get here I thought. Of course, we went via the boat deck to get from Aft to Forward. My cabin is Aft. Duncan’s was forward. The reason why I couldn’t find my cabin was I was at the wrong end of the ship!
So half blind I made my way up to the passenger area, got my bearings and walked as steadily as I could through the army of late night cleaners and maintenance personnel to the refuge of my cabin. Set my alarm for an early start, another training session, and went to sleep.
Struggled out of bed reluctantly after what seemed like five minutes later and made my way to yet another training session. This was of particular interest to me, when we were all invited to go on a tour of the ship. The training officer said to the class, this will be the only opportunity for most of you to see the passenger areas of the ship. Wow poor sods I thought. Many of these people are on board for over 12 months and they never emerge from below decks. Many of them asked for time to run back to their cabins to get their cameras. So we went for a wonder about the ship, and I realised just how lucky I am to be able to have a free run of the place. This went on till lunchtime and I went to the officers mess for lunch. My throbbing eye reminded me that I need to think about repairing my other glasses. I asked if their was any superglue on board. Decided it would be easier to go ashore and get some. I was told that it would be better to go after siesta when the shops reopened. Good idea, I could get back to my bed for a while.
So five oclock came and I went ashore and wondered around looking for a ferretaria to get some superglue. Supercola is understood in Italian, the same as Spanish. Got back and stuck my glasses back together. By this time it was time to get back to work. 8.30 – 1-30 so a quick change and off to work, a long wearing night but enjoyable a few drinks in the crew bar and home to bed. I woke up next morning went to the bathroom and noticed in the mirror I was still wearing my glasses which surprised me because I couldn’t see that well. It was then that I noticed that a lens was missing, and the frame was securely superglued to my nose. I remembered then getting to bed and deciding to tackle that problem in the morning.
I found the lens stuck to my pillow, I managed to get the frame off my nose along with a chunk of superglue congealed skin ! now I need to reglue my glasses and perhaps give them a day or so to dry!
In Naples today, I need to go ashore and buy another tube of superglue. The one I used yesterday is stuck to my dressing table and when I tried to pull it off superglue skwirted all over my fingers which now keep trying to stick together and the bar of soap that I have been trying to wash it off with.
So I have a big red mark on the bridge of my nose webbed fingers so God only knows what impression I would create if I was able to present myself for work tonight. I say if because I have just discovered that whilst writing this article on my laptop, my elbows have become stuck to this dressing table. Help !
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