We haven’t really done a whole lot this last week for one reason or another, which is probably a good thing given the schedule we’ve somehow managed to land ourselves with over the next couple of weeks.
One thing we’ve done is become intimately acquainted with Leybourne Lake (near Maidstone) which is our local training puddle. Last Sunday we were supposed have a nice sunny days diving in Portsmouth, with a start time of stupid o’clock. The sunny part didn’t work out, so it was called off, and instead we had a lie in followed by Leybourne Lake in the rain. On the positive side, this means I got some of my practical BSAC Sports Diver training signed off. Which is kinda odd, as I have the PADI equivalent, plus I also have the majority of my BSAC Dive Leader Theory done too.
Monday we went to the pool for the continued education in lifesaving. Apparently I know now how to throw a variety of types of rope. Also discovered that with the assistance of just one other person, I can haul Chris out of the pool should he need rescuing at any time. At his size this did come as a big surprise to me. *Pause* Not that I’m saying he’s fat or anything…
We enjoyed Leybourne so much on Sunday, that we decided to do it again on Wednesday evening. In the rain again. Because to be a UK Diver, ones sanity needs to have gone awol. And we’re ‘Ard. Even my little car is ‘Ard, cruising down the M20 with mud spatters up both sides and on the roof – we laugh at the squeaky clean 4x4s and FRPs that don’t know what mud is! Anyway, Weds evening I was asked to put my PADI hat on and take a 14 yo trainee out for a pootle, just her second open water dive! She was most excellent, very calm and very good control. And paid me a wonderful compliment; she said I was much better than the diver she went on her first dive with (a very good and experienced diver). *polishes halo*.
And you know what? We enjoyed that so much, I left Chris back home to build his new bed (don’t ask, suffice to say, the last one could only take so many VTOL attempts), while I went back to the lake again this morning. Got more training signed off. Plus, we had an experience that you only get once in a lifetime.
You have to understand that Leybourne’s attraction, other than for training lies in the many wrecks it has. Fine examples of which are; one mini, one BMW, VW Polo, one moped, two ickle boats and a giant headless teddy bear. Scattered among these, on a good day one might come across the odd perch. The fishy variety, not the parrot variety. However, this morning we came across a beastie that was thought to be the stuff of legends. Leybourne’s equivalent of the Nessie. It was (wait for it, you’re going to be dead jealous…) It was…
*drumroll*
… a pike.
I bet you’re all excited now. Oh, and it didn’t rain.
However, I gave the lads of the dive club a display in supreme elegance. In approximately eighteen inches of water, after I’d dumped my kit on the side, I was walking around to the steps, and tripped over a sneaky underwater object, landing spectacularly on my face in the water. The lads immediately stopped what they were doing and took time to admire my bum.
Apparently.
Would have been nice to have had a hand up, but they were too busy laughing and comparing notes.
One of my dive buddies also fell over, straight onto his bum amid much mirth. He was absolutely fine right up until he took his boot off and was as surprised as the rest of us to discover vast quantities of red stuff dripping. One thing about UK divers, is that with eight divers he had four first aid kits, one nurse, four first aiders and a trainee first aider all on hand, and was at Maidstone A&E within 20 minutes. Fortunately, not even stitches were required, and he is now home with large bottle of something or other. Standing on large spikes is not recommended.
Tomorrow afternoon we hope to go out of Dover in the RIB. I guess if it rains, it could be Leybourne instead.
Saturday 27 May 2006
Wednesday 17 May 2006
Saturday Gardening
Monday morning I had arranged to work from home for the explicit purpose of being available for Seeboard man to come and change my meter. Not that I wanted or needed my meter changed, but Seeboard insisted, therefore I had to take a half day off for them. Engineer would arrive sometime between 7am and noon so I would be able to get into work for 1pm. Is that all right, madam? I suppose so, yes. Having got up at 6.30am so that I would be decent when engineer arrived, I pottered and worked and wondered when engineer would turn up. Planned to call Seeboard at exactly noon and tell them they were too late and that next time they would have to send engineer around at my convenience. 9pm on a Saturday for example. Engineer in fact arrived at 11.58. One hour later he left. One two-minute mile later I was at work. Actually, it was more of a twenty-minute totter in three inch heeled boots but I think I prefer the first image.
Monday evening, we lugged our cylinders and kit all the way up to Chatham pool for part of our lifesaving course. Did swimming stuff and snorkelling stuff, and lugged still dry kit all the way home again.
Tuesday received proper certificate for management course. Yay. Go me. Read in the paper that that the shop opposite our offices was raided on 25 April for sex trafficking. I wasn’t in the office for a lot of that day, so that’s my excuse for not noticing. However, two of my staff who sit by the window and are highly skilled in the art of observation (not only spotting men in hard hats and work boots, men in uniform etc. etc., but they can also spot a Magnum ice cream at four hundred yards, Manolo boots at eight hundred yards and a Millen handbag at over a mile), somehow managed to fail to spot the large volume of officers and brightly coloured vehicles descending upon the place in the middle of that afternoon.
Wednesday and Thursday came and went with a vast multitude of manipulative devious and bickering couples with manipulative, devious and screaming children. Little factoid; divorce trends have a direct correlation to school holidays. Little soapbox; divorcing adults are mostly overgrown spoilt children.
Friday began with delivering car to Invicta. Expressed my dissatisfaction at how my car had been left last week. Received phone call at 4pm advising that they had the correct part this time but were having difficulty putting it all back together again in a manner whereby the door actually fit where it was supposed to. I could have it back at 5.30 if I needed it, but the door wouldn’t be on properly and please could they keep her over the weekend instead. Long, deep breath and suddenly wish I’d learned meditation.
Now, Invicta have this annoying habit of ringing you up when your car’s in to see if they can sell you a new car. So, for the third Friday in a row, it’s no surprise to receive phone call from Invicta sales enquiring if I would like a new car.
Felt an irresistible urge to mess with salesman’s head. Just a teeny weeny bit in order to purge some of my Invicta spawned stress. Conversation went something like this.
- I see your Puma’s in for servicing. Would you like a new one?
- Oh! That would be nice, but I didn’t think you were making them any more.
- We’re not, but we have some really good alternatives.
- Alternatives to the Puma. Uh huh. What, exactly, are planning to cross sell me too?
- The Street Ka is…
- (I laugh)
- Or the Focus ST somethingorother or…
- (I chortle)
- Fiesta something else…
- (I cackle hysterically)
- (He trails off nervously)
- Have you ever driven a Puma? says me.
- (Enthusiastically) Yes, madam, a really great car to drive.
- And having driven one, exactly which of these you’ve mentioned do you think I would even consider thinking about?
- (nervous clearing of throat) Erm, well, the Focus is the closest…
- Hmmm, call me when you start ramping up the Puma again.
- Um, I’m sorry madam, but there are no plans…
- I know that.
- So you’re not interested in changing your car then?
- Funnily, no. But if you’re a really good boy I might let you try and persuade me to test drive the new Capri when it comes out.
- Erm, that’s not…
- Yeah I know that too. Ta ta!
Friday pm, Saturday and Sunday had girlie weekend. Watched far too much TV, ate far too much ice cream, and drank far too much vodka and white wine. Not in the same glass. I don't think.
On Sunday received texts from Chris remarking on encounters with dogfish and tope, of which I was appropriately jealous. Having now thought about it, however, I now realise that with the three-inch visibility those encounters are more likely to have involved specified fish slapping certain divers around the head with their tails for treading on them in the dark.
Yesterday, my car was ready. Picked her up and am very pleased with job they did. Am also very pleased with the 50% discount they gave for all the trouble. Yesterday evening, we lugged our cylinders all the way up to Chatham pool for part of our lifesaving course. This time we used them.
Went to dentist today to see hygienist. She complained that she couldn’t find anything to complain about, but after a good clean and polish and virtually sticking her head down my throat, she finally found evidence of… (gasp!) Jaw clenching! So she complained about that. At length. And recommended going on holiday.
I like my dentist.
Monday evening, we lugged our cylinders and kit all the way up to Chatham pool for part of our lifesaving course. Did swimming stuff and snorkelling stuff, and lugged still dry kit all the way home again.
Tuesday received proper certificate for management course. Yay. Go me. Read in the paper that that the shop opposite our offices was raided on 25 April for sex trafficking. I wasn’t in the office for a lot of that day, so that’s my excuse for not noticing. However, two of my staff who sit by the window and are highly skilled in the art of observation (not only spotting men in hard hats and work boots, men in uniform etc. etc., but they can also spot a Magnum ice cream at four hundred yards, Manolo boots at eight hundred yards and a Millen handbag at over a mile), somehow managed to fail to spot the large volume of officers and brightly coloured vehicles descending upon the place in the middle of that afternoon.
Wednesday and Thursday came and went with a vast multitude of manipulative devious and bickering couples with manipulative, devious and screaming children. Little factoid; divorce trends have a direct correlation to school holidays. Little soapbox; divorcing adults are mostly overgrown spoilt children.
Friday began with delivering car to Invicta. Expressed my dissatisfaction at how my car had been left last week. Received phone call at 4pm advising that they had the correct part this time but were having difficulty putting it all back together again in a manner whereby the door actually fit where it was supposed to. I could have it back at 5.30 if I needed it, but the door wouldn’t be on properly and please could they keep her over the weekend instead. Long, deep breath and suddenly wish I’d learned meditation.
Now, Invicta have this annoying habit of ringing you up when your car’s in to see if they can sell you a new car. So, for the third Friday in a row, it’s no surprise to receive phone call from Invicta sales enquiring if I would like a new car.
Felt an irresistible urge to mess with salesman’s head. Just a teeny weeny bit in order to purge some of my Invicta spawned stress. Conversation went something like this.
- I see your Puma’s in for servicing. Would you like a new one?
- Oh! That would be nice, but I didn’t think you were making them any more.
- We’re not, but we have some really good alternatives.
- Alternatives to the Puma. Uh huh. What, exactly, are planning to cross sell me too?
- The Street Ka is…
- (I laugh)
- Or the Focus ST somethingorother or…
- (I chortle)
- Fiesta something else…
- (I cackle hysterically)
- (He trails off nervously)
- Have you ever driven a Puma? says me.
- (Enthusiastically) Yes, madam, a really great car to drive.
- And having driven one, exactly which of these you’ve mentioned do you think I would even consider thinking about?
- (nervous clearing of throat) Erm, well, the Focus is the closest…
- Hmmm, call me when you start ramping up the Puma again.
- Um, I’m sorry madam, but there are no plans…
- I know that.
- So you’re not interested in changing your car then?
- Funnily, no. But if you’re a really good boy I might let you try and persuade me to test drive the new Capri when it comes out.
- Erm, that’s not…
- Yeah I know that too. Ta ta!
Friday pm, Saturday and Sunday had girlie weekend. Watched far too much TV, ate far too much ice cream, and drank far too much vodka and white wine. Not in the same glass. I don't think.
On Sunday received texts from Chris remarking on encounters with dogfish and tope, of which I was appropriately jealous. Having now thought about it, however, I now realise that with the three-inch visibility those encounters are more likely to have involved specified fish slapping certain divers around the head with their tails for treading on them in the dark.
Yesterday, my car was ready. Picked her up and am very pleased with job they did. Am also very pleased with the 50% discount they gave for all the trouble. Yesterday evening, we lugged our cylinders all the way up to Chatham pool for part of our lifesaving course. This time we used them.
Went to dentist today to see hygienist. She complained that she couldn’t find anything to complain about, but after a good clean and polish and virtually sticking her head down my throat, she finally found evidence of… (gasp!) Jaw clenching! So she complained about that. At length. And recommended going on holiday.
I like my dentist.
Sunday 7 May 2006
The week that wasn't
This last week is one of those where you wish you hadn’t bothered.
Monday we cancelled going to see Chris’ mum and dad (which worked out well as it happened), because we were too shattered to even contemplate the merest possibility of anything as strenuous as getting out of bed. Vegged all day, and with some serious willpower managed to shop and forage for food.
Tuesday came and went.
Wednesday I had an eye check, which was good, next one in two months. However I had to take an afternoons leave to get to Croydon for the appointment, and figured I would be home by four, so I could have an hour or so of ‘me’-time before heading up Chris’, perhaps a little earlier than the arranged 7-ish. However, traffic had other ideas.
Starting with the double decker bus that broke down in the middle of Croydon High Street, got past that, and pootling along when large six wheeler removal van shoots red light to cut in front of us and then proceeds at a leisurely 15 miles an hour all the way to the A22 dual carriageway. Pootled past it there, and with anticipatory glee aimed for the slip road that would take me onto the M25 and vaguely wondered why vehicles were parked on the bridge over the junction. Sailed up slip road, and discovered that the M25 had been turned into a car park.
Fortunately we started moving within a few moments, and spent the rest of the M25 at a steady cruising speed of 25 miles an hour. M26 speeded up to 45 miles and hour, and M20 hit 70mph for the entire half mile until Maidstone whereupon we were back to 45mph. After Maidstone it all picked up after J8 I thought we were home free. (sigh) Two lots of traffic slowing specifically to rubberneck broken down old bangers with blue flashy lights parked next door to them and a police car doing 65mph that no one wanted to overtake, and eventually got home at 5.30. (funk)
Had very nice evening at Chris, with an experiment in stuffed globe artichokes, which was very nice.
Thursday was migraine day, and for the first time *ever* I got to the Migrileive in time, and was astounded to find that actually, it does work.
Friday I dropped my car off at Invicta to have some electrical wiring in her door fixed (something that had been booked for a while), some paintwork fixed and her front bumper realigned. At three pm they called me to say that the paintwork is fixed, but that the bumper can’t be realigned, it needs to go to the bodyshop, oh and by the way they tried and failed to fit the electrical part in the door, because they’d been sent the wrong part. Sorry madam.
Requested courtesy vehicle to pick me up. 1605 was the only time they could do, I couldn’t do til 5.30. Booked a cab for 5.30 to take me over. 5.40 cab hadn’t arrived, rang them and they said they hadn’t got a booking – the lady I quoted had gone home at 5. Awfully sorry, got one two streets away, I’ll send it now. Invicta closes at 6, I got there at 5.55.
Very stroppy me took car home. Fed animals of varying descriptions. Noticed on way back out door that when they’d put the bumper back, they’d folded one of the headlight seals in on itself. Not a prob, I can fix that myself. Pootled onto M20 heading up to Chris’ and thought What’s that windy rushing sound? Door hasn’t been refitted properly.
I was very very happy with my previous garage (Caffyns), and only went to Invicta because Caffyns is a Vauxhall/Skoda dealer and couldn’t get some of the parts. Moral of the story is, if you want your Ford fixed, go to a Vauxhall garage.
Set VCR to tape programme I intended to watch with Chris on Sat evening.
Had a very nice evening at Chris’.On Sat, he went off to introduce Tom (his son) to the concept of rollercoasters while I went into work, cunningly avoiding the clients Charles had in, and spent some of the day catching up on ‘me’ time. Chris came to mine and he watched Dr Who while I fiddled. David Tennent is far better than Christopher Eccelestone, and I got distracted a few times whilst watching. Discovered that I’d failed to record the programme I’d intended to watch with Chris.
On Sunday we got up at 8 to go for a dive out of Dover. We had to be at the marina for 10. At 9.10, Chris discovered that he’d forgotten a critical item. His wetsuit. 9 degree water is a tad chilly in just ones swim trunks and without the benefit of buckets of chip fat. So he went sprinting off to Rochester while I went directly to Dover. With much luck, and all the other guys offering willing hands to get latecomer ready, we were in the RIB heading for open water at 10.30.
Beautifully smooth ocean, vertical visabilty high, no wind or rain. But this is Dover. Lateral visability was end of nose on the surface due to the fog. Decided that planned dive was not advisable as we were too close to shipping lane, and tugs have a very real history of not being too clever or observant in clear weather, let alone fog. Keeping ahead of the tide, we went a bit further shoreward towards Folkestone and anchored over the Leicester.
Jumped in, and started descent. Now, there’s a very importatant rule that if you don’t want to dive, you don’t dive, even if you can’t say exactly why you don’t want to dive. Dangerous things tend to happen if you ignore that gut feeling. So, first thing about a foot below the surface, one of my fins gets tangled in the shot line. I untangle it and my breathing rate goes up, as it would, but won’t come down again. Weight belt slips askew – still firmly attached, but with uneven distribution leaves me off balance, and breathing isn’t slowing down.
Neutrally buoyant is the idea, however I’m too neutrally buoyant, inasmuchas, with breathing rate too high, I no longer have my normal lung control to descend, although actually, I do manage to get down to about 6 metres, but don’t realise it as I’ve got a bit disoriented. Indicate to Chris to halt, I need a moment, and we hover for a moment or two whilst I try to bring breathing rate down. It’s not happening and I look down whilst I decided what to do; going up probably, but would I be happy going down again? Gut spoke up with very loud voice; No. Binned dive, surfaced and returned to RIB. Oh well, Chris and I’ve bottled a dive each so far this season; it happens.
Now at home chilling after a very hard day examining the fog banks off Dover/Folkestone.
Monday we cancelled going to see Chris’ mum and dad (which worked out well as it happened), because we were too shattered to even contemplate the merest possibility of anything as strenuous as getting out of bed. Vegged all day, and with some serious willpower managed to shop and forage for food.
Tuesday came and went.
Wednesday I had an eye check, which was good, next one in two months. However I had to take an afternoons leave to get to Croydon for the appointment, and figured I would be home by four, so I could have an hour or so of ‘me’-time before heading up Chris’, perhaps a little earlier than the arranged 7-ish. However, traffic had other ideas.
Starting with the double decker bus that broke down in the middle of Croydon High Street, got past that, and pootling along when large six wheeler removal van shoots red light to cut in front of us and then proceeds at a leisurely 15 miles an hour all the way to the A22 dual carriageway. Pootled past it there, and with anticipatory glee aimed for the slip road that would take me onto the M25 and vaguely wondered why vehicles were parked on the bridge over the junction. Sailed up slip road, and discovered that the M25 had been turned into a car park.
Fortunately we started moving within a few moments, and spent the rest of the M25 at a steady cruising speed of 25 miles an hour. M26 speeded up to 45 miles and hour, and M20 hit 70mph for the entire half mile until Maidstone whereupon we were back to 45mph. After Maidstone it all picked up after J8 I thought we were home free. (sigh) Two lots of traffic slowing specifically to rubberneck broken down old bangers with blue flashy lights parked next door to them and a police car doing 65mph that no one wanted to overtake, and eventually got home at 5.30. (funk)
Had very nice evening at Chris, with an experiment in stuffed globe artichokes, which was very nice.
Thursday was migraine day, and for the first time *ever* I got to the Migrileive in time, and was astounded to find that actually, it does work.
Friday I dropped my car off at Invicta to have some electrical wiring in her door fixed (something that had been booked for a while), some paintwork fixed and her front bumper realigned. At three pm they called me to say that the paintwork is fixed, but that the bumper can’t be realigned, it needs to go to the bodyshop, oh and by the way they tried and failed to fit the electrical part in the door, because they’d been sent the wrong part. Sorry madam.
Requested courtesy vehicle to pick me up. 1605 was the only time they could do, I couldn’t do til 5.30. Booked a cab for 5.30 to take me over. 5.40 cab hadn’t arrived, rang them and they said they hadn’t got a booking – the lady I quoted had gone home at 5. Awfully sorry, got one two streets away, I’ll send it now. Invicta closes at 6, I got there at 5.55.
Very stroppy me took car home. Fed animals of varying descriptions. Noticed on way back out door that when they’d put the bumper back, they’d folded one of the headlight seals in on itself. Not a prob, I can fix that myself. Pootled onto M20 heading up to Chris’ and thought What’s that windy rushing sound? Door hasn’t been refitted properly.
I was very very happy with my previous garage (Caffyns), and only went to Invicta because Caffyns is a Vauxhall/Skoda dealer and couldn’t get some of the parts. Moral of the story is, if you want your Ford fixed, go to a Vauxhall garage.
Set VCR to tape programme I intended to watch with Chris on Sat evening.
Had a very nice evening at Chris’.On Sat, he went off to introduce Tom (his son) to the concept of rollercoasters while I went into work, cunningly avoiding the clients Charles had in, and spent some of the day catching up on ‘me’ time. Chris came to mine and he watched Dr Who while I fiddled. David Tennent is far better than Christopher Eccelestone, and I got distracted a few times whilst watching. Discovered that I’d failed to record the programme I’d intended to watch with Chris.
On Sunday we got up at 8 to go for a dive out of Dover. We had to be at the marina for 10. At 9.10, Chris discovered that he’d forgotten a critical item. His wetsuit. 9 degree water is a tad chilly in just ones swim trunks and without the benefit of buckets of chip fat. So he went sprinting off to Rochester while I went directly to Dover. With much luck, and all the other guys offering willing hands to get latecomer ready, we were in the RIB heading for open water at 10.30.
Beautifully smooth ocean, vertical visabilty high, no wind or rain. But this is Dover. Lateral visability was end of nose on the surface due to the fog. Decided that planned dive was not advisable as we were too close to shipping lane, and tugs have a very real history of not being too clever or observant in clear weather, let alone fog. Keeping ahead of the tide, we went a bit further shoreward towards Folkestone and anchored over the Leicester.
Jumped in, and started descent. Now, there’s a very importatant rule that if you don’t want to dive, you don’t dive, even if you can’t say exactly why you don’t want to dive. Dangerous things tend to happen if you ignore that gut feeling. So, first thing about a foot below the surface, one of my fins gets tangled in the shot line. I untangle it and my breathing rate goes up, as it would, but won’t come down again. Weight belt slips askew – still firmly attached, but with uneven distribution leaves me off balance, and breathing isn’t slowing down.
Neutrally buoyant is the idea, however I’m too neutrally buoyant, inasmuchas, with breathing rate too high, I no longer have my normal lung control to descend, although actually, I do manage to get down to about 6 metres, but don’t realise it as I’ve got a bit disoriented. Indicate to Chris to halt, I need a moment, and we hover for a moment or two whilst I try to bring breathing rate down. It’s not happening and I look down whilst I decided what to do; going up probably, but would I be happy going down again? Gut spoke up with very loud voice; No. Binned dive, surfaced and returned to RIB. Oh well, Chris and I’ve bottled a dive each so far this season; it happens.
Now at home chilling after a very hard day examining the fog banks off Dover/Folkestone.
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