It is damp in Ireland. Everything has a curious moist quality usually associated with a dogs nose. Being used to cold Sweden with underfloor heating in the bathroom and heating on all the time,the dampness is shock to the system. The car windows steamed up on the way home, and I was only driving alone…….most disconcerting. Better damp than wet though, and it will be that before long.Â
Archive for January, 2007
Hello and welcome from the capital of the peoples republic of Cork. I managed to master the controls of my motor vehicle fairly quick and made my way from Wexford to Cork in one piece. Its great to be back, I flew Ryanair to get into Dublin about 90% of the passengers were from eastern europe, the rest was me, the ticket cost 1 Swedish Crown(SEK) about 10c, after all the taxes and charges and baggage cost it came to 460 SEK, still ok, then I was 5kg overweight with the bags another 400 SEK, what a load of bullshit, I would have flown normal commercial for the same price and had free coffee and 30kg baggage allowance. Still it was a direct flight and I was impressed with the Aussie pilot and the great Dublin accent of Wojcek, who greeted me with “aright bud!” as I climbed aboard.
So it was back to the school bench directly or ship simulator as the case was, day 1 and straight into it no time for acting the bollix, I’ve done enough of that…..more news from Erin soon.
The metal detector at Manchester Airport was set to maximum, so that the iron in my blood set it off, or else they fixed it to suspicious looking, could be Irish mode with a flick of a switch, so it goes freak out alarm bells flashing lights and the West Midlands Constabulary appear to nick my Irish arse when I happen to pass through. The security guard smiles pleasantly while asking me to - step this way sir, I spread out my arms and get a thorough frisking, including hand up the crotch, then I have to remove my shoes and they go through the x-ray device, it would be easier if I lay down on the belt and went through myself, anyway the same guy hands me back my shoes with the line-these your shoes sir? I am tempted to reply ,-yeah that’s right don’t you remember me you just hand your hand up my hole or -do you see any other barefoot paddys hanging around? or - no I had a brand new pair of nikes or-I like to walk around in my stocking feet, makes me feel more at home, but I just nodded not wanting to let any more accent out than possible.
After passing security everything is ok Zbigniew and Jose in the bar don’t give a tinkers curse where you come from they just serve up the beer and everybody is happy.
In Amsterdam they only checked my passport against the computer and asked for my destination, a trick question of course, they know where you are going, had I given the wrong answer, all hell would have broken loose. I didn’t get the hand up the hole treatment in Amsterdam either thankfully, meanwhile my Swedish co-travellers glide through every security control without so much as a how do you do, I have to get me one of them Swedish passports,….maybe thats what Al-Qaeda are thinking also……
The sun rises on my last but one day for this trip. The city of Liverpool in the background.
The Liver birds on the Liver Building, 10 past 2 time to pack my bags. Leaving by Liverpool tomorrow. The question mark is Urban art, cost a fortune apparently. Its a bit of a sad location on the doors of the disused Cammel Laird shipyard, it almost asks will we ever build ships again?
You never know who is going to turn up in the strangest places, I met a guy today that I had not seen for 8 years, he was a trainee on one my ships, and he was not the best trainee, in fact he was crap, he bragged about losing his drivers license doing 80 in a 30 outside a school, we predicted his future was going to be on the dole que, or at the end of a bottle whixh was one of his favourite pastimes. But there he was large as life on the jetty wearing the surveyors outfit smiling and pleased to see me, I felt a twinge of guilt as I had been pretty tough on him as a trainee, sending him on hopeless missions for long waits and buckets of steam and he bit every time, hook line and sinker. He could have been a bastard today and reject the ship but he was just pleasant and cheerful, chatting about all the people on board when we sailed together, asking me to pass on his regards to mutual friends. Just goes to show you that you never know when the tables can be turned on you. Moral of the story for me is do unto others as you would have them do unto you, even to cocky 18 year old boy racers.
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My 8 year old laptop finally gave up the ghost last night and died, I am on a borrowed computer now. Fortunately only a day to go and I can find a new one or see if the Toshiba can be salvaged. Talking about salvage some pics here from a French website of the MSC Napoli on the day of the rescue mentioned earlier.( http://www.ruttledge.se/?p=95)
The news is full of pics of the ship aground off the Devon coast, I wonder how soon before they decided to beach her was the final decision made, they probably didn’t have much time with the cracks spreading in the bad weather.
As usual the reports on the “hazardous cargo” are being blown out of all proportion with wild speculation in the news and about the thousands of tonnes of hazardous cago. The worst thing now is the oil slick, I haven’t heard any official cargo manifest and hazardous goods are classified from explosives to batteries and asphalt so who knows what they have on board. The news also used the phrase “stricken freighter” as they use for all types of ships, when in distress. Ships are rarely in the news except when they are sinking or spilling or burning, no wonder the general public has such a poor view of ships and seafarers. It will all be forgotten about when some Big Brother house guest bares her breasts or Posh Beckham gets another tatoo on her arse, now thats what I call news.
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http://www.ouest-france.fr/dossiers/galerie_napoli.asp?path=napoli&page=1
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