Implosions ahoy!

The eighth of June saw the beginnings of my birthday starting off with a lovely dinner at mum and dads. Birthday pressie involved a treasure trove of jewellery. *beam*

The day after we spent in battle with the new shed. After much swearing, a couple of strategic withdrawals to Wickes, and a prolonged negotiation with a grand matriarch garden spider, the shed was erected, and now looks very pretty.

Chris took me to Utopia for dinner, and presented me with a nifty MP4 player. Which talks very nicely with my lappy and my car. *happy dance*

On Sunday, I was beginning to suspect that the fates were not happy about me diving this year. We packed Leah and drove down to Dover Marina in order to take Medsac around to St Margarets Bay. It was a beautiful morning when we left Ashford. Dover, however, was enshrouded in pea soup.

Still, ever optimistic, we got Medsac set up, and after a panic filled moment that has earned Chris the nickname ‘Killswitch’, we found ourselves lurking in the car park along with several other divers and fishermen also awaiting movement by the pea soup. Eventually, it started clearing, and with a big cheer, we started kitting ourselves up and loading Medsac with the dive kit. And I realised that I’d left my BCD behind. This being a large piece of kit and kind of akin to forgetting the cylinder, or the regs. Y’know, key stuff. No time to drive back and get it, so left my stuff in the car, loaded up kit and took Medsac out.

Having won the coin toss the night before, I took Medsac out, crossing the harbour to go out the Eastern entrance. With an eight knot speed limit, I found it difficult to keep Medsac at eight knots; she wanted to go at either six or eleven. Chris decided I was being too heavy handed and tried to show me how delicate one needed to be, but he couldn’t get it either.

Once through the harbour wall, I found myself checking left and right before hitting the throttle and zipping around to St Margarets.

There were two dives planned, and while the first dive went ahead with Chris taking Medsac out, Buoyancy Ade kindly took me to Dover Marina where we transferred to Leah and whizzed up to Ashford to fetch my BC, back to Dover, transferred all my kit to Ade’s car and back to St Margarets.

Medsac returned with sheepish divers on board. A couple’d had a good dive, although they hadn’t seen anything; the visibility being so bad that even the fish couldn’t see and kept bumping into them. Slack failed to send a memo to advise that it would be arriving early, therefore when Chris and Kev went in second, the tide started running and they aborted. Which meant leaving the shot line on the wreck.

After BBQ-ing on the beach, it was determined that underwater visibility was still non-existent, so after all that, the second dive didn’t happen. Instead we went out to the wreck to look for the shot line. And failed to find it.

Chris took us back to the Marina, while I whinged about failing to dive.

On Monday, I took my very first Ocean Diver pool session. I had a very excellent student who said very nice things.

On the 14th, my birthday started with coffee in bed, and lotsa cards and emails and texts, and ended with me just chilling out with an evening to myself which was lovely. *bliss*.

Friday the work girlies and I went to the pub and got a bit pissed.

That weekend, Jill and Jen came down, and I got loads of goodies! Mostly Supernatural goodies, but also some cool jewellery and games and accessories and things. Totally fab. Reviewed some TV stuff, drank wine and ate cake. Yum.

That Monday I was a bit nervous as I was covering someone else’s dive lecture and it was full of technical stuff like biology, chemistry and physics *gulp!* It went okay, but no better than just okay. However, our Regional Coach was there, hiding. He’d come to the club for something unrelated, heard that I was taking a lecture and decided to sit in. He gave me a great feedback and concrit session afterwards and said nice things too. As our training officer is out of action, the Chairman subsequently asked if I’d design and give a lecture to our D of E Award girls. *gulp!* Got that on Monday, so just a tad nervous! 1!!!

Last weekend we went to Weymouth for a weekend of pure diving. The weather looked a bit blowey, but we were on a hardboat – Tango and we’ve been out in a good deal worse. But for some reason the dive gods did not want me to dive. I started heaving not long after we were out of the harbour, and didn’t stop until sometime Sunday morning. No dives for me. Chris and Kev saw a Tope (shark), and I cannot tell you how jealous I am. Met up with Annelies, Richard and Canada and got more pressies :oD This time goodies for making believe I was on a hot beach somewhere! Walked along Chesil Beach until it started to rain.

We stayed in a beautiful hotel on Portland isle. Very olde worlde and friendly.

Sunday I took one look at the sea and my stomach curled up, so I decided to go out with Oz and investigate Portland. We had a very pleasant day investigating cream teas, perusing the museum and exploring old St Andrew’s church ruins; which are on the side of a cliff and has gravestones inside the church because they ran out of space.

On Monday, we took another pool session, but this time had a different student who wasn’t very good, or very confident; didn’t do so well.

Wednesday brought another opportunity to dive! Okay, so it was at Leybourne Lake, but at this point I’d jump in a bath tub in full kit if I could. With little margin for error time wise, I tippy toed out of work at 17.30, sprinted to my car and, tyres burning rubber, squealed out onto the M20 and zipped up towards Leybourne. Feeling immensely pleased with myself for getting on the motorway by 18.00, with all my kit in the back, you can imagine my horror as I hit the brakes, sliding to a stop where the M20 was at a complete standstill.

Someone really, really, really didn’t want me to dive. One panicked call to Trafficwatch told me that it was just a ten minute delay, and subsequent call to the dive officer confirmed that would be okay. Screeched into the car park, fifteen minutes late, but forgiven. I dived with Alan while he practiced his Navigation. He does the most beautifully circular straight lines. I discovered that putting too much air in one’s dry suit is somewhat similar to what sky diving in reverse must feel like.

Whilst walking home from work on Thursday, I was most bemused to discover a couple of little men painting yellow birdies on the road. The mind boggles. Almost as much as boggling over the installation art that consists of random roadsigns in the middle of a junction.

Tomorrow, 1st July the smoking ban kicks in. Very good, I say. However, some psychotically sadistic politician decided that the very same day, Ashford would convert from one way traffic, to two way traffic. So that means we’ll end up with hundreds of nicotine deprived motorists struggling to interpret a new two way system decorated with yellow flying birds on the tarmac and random No Entry signs that don’t mean anything because actually they’re art. My theory is that it’s all one very sneaky plan to make Ashford implode.

Sheds, seasickness and pyromaniacs

On a nice fair Saturday Chris organised for us to go on a trip to a microbrewery in the Chatham dockyards, for which the parental joined us. The beer drinkers drank copious quantities of beer and the drivers ate copious quantities of samosas. We were looked after marvellously and discovered that brewing beer isn’t nearly as complicated as some hops geeks would have one believe. As Chris likes to tell everyone, he has now proven that he can organise a piss up in a brewery. Afterwards, we went to the Ship & Trades pub for a while before Chris and I accompanied the parental for a stroll around the docks. Which are extremely new looking given that they are a few centuries old.

Having spent a very long times pinching other people’s printers, on Sunday I decided that I might like to acquire my own, but only if I could get one cheaply. Of course, the thought only occurred to me when I spied the PC World shop next door to the DIY store where we’d gone to get me a new shed. Shed placed on order, but it seemed wrong to spend money and walk away with nothing to show for other than a receipt. So went home shiny new printer.

As requested by club Boat Officer, we went to marina to check on Medsac 1 and ended up bailing her out a bit and pumping her up a bit. Dad joined in and had fun chatting with other sailors, helping moor up yachts and spotting mullets (of the fishy kind, not the hairy kind).

On Monday, I was due to do a try dive in the pool, but discovered my old faithful shorts were a bit holey, and not keen to acquire my own nickname quite yet, went shopping at lunchtime. Found perfect pair for £6, with second pair free. However, there was no choice of colours. The black pair that I wanted was fine. But I’m not exactly certain what I’m going to do with the fuchsia pair. Although one of my ladies helpfully pointed out that the fuchsia pair did match my socks.

Try diver was a lifeguard, champion swimmer type, who eventually got the hang of not yo-yoing between surface and bottom of pool, but couldn’t seem to grasp the concept of getting from A to B as slowly as possible. I’m very glad my ocean fins gave me more engine speed to catch him every time he tried to make a break for it. I also discovered that carrying my kit on my back to/from the car, whilst wearing my grey jeans, results in a rather unattractive workman’s bum. Pool lady thought this was hysterical. Should I be worried?

On Tuesday, at just a year old, laptop threw strop and refused to charge up. And for just a few moments, I cursed buying shed and printer.

On Wednesday, screamed and shouted and generally put every anaemic PMT’d cell into accusing Acer of building in obsolescence, and cheap skating on un-warrantied parts etc., etc. And after much discussion, a couple of phone calls, and an inference that actually, I might be persuaded to buy a much better machine if I were given a suitable discount, I walked away with a suitably discounted laptop.

On Thursday had lunch with Liz, a Zimbabwe dog breeder who kept an unpronounceable breed of dog when she lived in Zimbabwe; she now works for the NHS. Boggled at MS Vista and undid all the defaults which made the machine unworkable, and now have beautifully working machine that looks remarkably like an Acer on the outside and a Mac on the inside.

Friday brought the arrival of my shed. Very impressed with Wickes, I can tell you. The delivery was booked for Friday in the knowledge that they had no guarantee of time, and someone had to be in to sign for the thing. Very inconvenient, but checkout boy whispered that if I called first thing, the driver may be able to give me a rough idea of time. So I crossed my fingers and called. After five minutes of listening to muzak, nice lady tells me that the driver is just rearranging his load slightly, and would deliver to me first within the hour.

Twenty minutes later, Wickes lorry pulls up and asks which part of the kerb would be best to unload it on, as they can only deliver to kerb-side. (I knew this, and had space on drive ready.) So I looked all pathetic, and explained that it had to go in my back garden so as near to that direction as possible would be appreciated. Fifteen minutes later, all shed components were hand delivered personally by very nice driver into my back garden. Spent the evening discovering the joy that is I-Tunes.

Bank Holiday weekend, I was due to go to see Annelies. Traffic was never going to be good on a Bank Holiday, but an average of 60 on the M20/26 I considered to be okay. Forty on the M20 was a little frustrating, but we all kept moving and got there eventually.

Matrix signs declared the M3 at a stand still, so laughed as I went around the slip road to the M4 and screeched straight into a gridlock. The M4 was an average of around 25, came off the A3-oh-whatever, and was pleased and surprised to find an open road for many miles, right up until the speed cameras at the bottom of somewhere beginning with B, two roundabouts from Stonehenge. Expected Stonehenge to be nasty, but feel that an average of 2mph was perhaps a little much. With Annelies’ hints and my sat nav, found a way across the plains which was quick, although the ‘Warning: Tank Crossing’ signs were a little off-putting.

Whilst sitting in traffic jam, however, I discovered that my Very Important blue silk CD case with my Very Important car CDs and Supernatural AVIs had gone AWOL. Remembered last time I saw it was in Coventry, rang the hotel up, and very nice housekeeping lady told me they’d found it. Relief! Spent excellent weekend with Annelies and friends and spent a lot of time fussing Canada.

The trip back was much quicker, despite the heavy buckets of rain down pouring. Aquaplaning was the sport du jour, and I’m certain there were judges on the bridges doling out points for style.

Bank Holiday Monday was allocated to tearing old shed down, and perhaps considering putting new one up. Texted Chris to let him know I was up and around and that he could arrive to help, as arranged, any time he liked. By lunchtime, with the aid of my trusty hammer, my shed was in pieces and away from the concrete base. In strop as no sign of Chris, and concrete base was cracked, deformed and at an interesting angle. Old shed was doomed from the day it was built.

Yelled at Chris down the phone about being a lazy git and put the phone down. Checked mobile phone (that I’d left indoors, not expecting to have to use it), to find Chris hadn’t received text and was enquiring as to whether he should come down, or whether I was taking some ‘me’-time. Perhaps should have checked that before ringing to yell at him. Oops.

On Wednesday my skip arrived. And when the lady said it was the size of an upside down Golf, she wasn’t kidding. Perfect size, and got shed and rest of junk that’s been hanging around my back garden for six years in it. Woodlice started protest marches outside back door at uninformed removal of their accommodation.

After finding that one bag of concrete barely filled in the holes in the old shed base, we finally got the base flattened out using five bags. Went shopping and stopped by the Skoda garage to try out their new cars. And no, I’m not getting rid of Ghostie. Chris, however, may be looking at new car, so we felt the need to try the Octavia VRS – very, very quick, but I didn’t like it to drive.

Tried the Octavia Scout, which was… about as quite as Leah, and takes two full sets of dive kit without complaining, and climbs mountains in its spare time. Sales blokie said that its back end holds the road no matter how hard one pushes it around corners. So, on my turn to test drive, I felt the need to find a conveniently quiet roundabout and tried his claim out, going around and around until the salesman started squeaking about tyre wear. He was right though, no give in the back end at all. Went to The Compasses at Crundale for dinner.

Sunday 3rd June was not a good day. The concrete had set well, and was only a bit wonky rather than the mountains and valleys with a chasm down the middle it had originally been. So we put the supporting batons under the floor panel and attached the door to the door panel. Unfortunately ye anciente cordless screwdriver gave up the ghost, so construction stopped and we went diving instead.

Or perhaps it’s more correct to say we tried to. There was fog on the horizon, and the coast guard said it was a very large fog back and not to go too far out. Okey doke, so we decided to try and find the South Folkestone Lightship, which a couple of us have done before on a different boat. It was mildly choppy once we left the harbour, but nothing Medsac couldn’t handle with ease, and certainly well within the bounds of diving. Except the engine kept losing power. After wallowing for a short period of time, and much manly discussion of fuel valves, injector coils and electrical widgets, we discovered that Andy’s cylinder was sitting firmly on the fuel line. After re-stowing the cylinder and sniggering a lot, we continued on our mission to find the Lightship.

A sudden whizzing sound and a very startled Chris tried to work out what had gone overboard. A little rope movement under my bum, which I’m certain must not be unlike sticking a snake down ones pants, and the whizzing thing turned out to be the painter karabiner having flown from one side of the boat to the other. Fortunately without taking anyone’s head off, although with some people that might be hard to tell.

It remains a mystery as to who failed to clip the karabiner to the boat.

Eventually we reached the general area where the Lightship was supposed to be. Much wallowing was done as we failed to find it. We passed over one blip, but that was more likely to be an overgrown spider crab than any sort of wreck. More wallowing later, we gave up and went to find the Leicester; a known wreck that was already programmed into our GPS. A little wallowing occurred as we attempted to hook into it, but eventually, we were ready to go.

The instant the engine was cut, Adrian made a particularly athletic manoeuvre to the side of the RIB, and spent time spontaneously feeding the fish. As he was doing so well at it, I decided that the fish on the other side of the rib were clearly being left, and in the most elegant manner possible, spent time feeding them.

Chris and Andy disappeared down to the wreck whilst Adrian and I admired the beautifully clear visibility, and noted the incoming fog. Nothing to worry about for the moment, so we continued with the fish feeding. As Adrian leaned over to feed a particularly tenacious fish, he was somewhat startled to discover that Chris was there, and I discovered Andy on my side of the boat. They had gone down just in time for Chris’ mask to crack, therefore terminating the dive almost before it had begun. With the fates obviously against us, we headed back to harbour, having to negotiate the very large fog bank between it and us.

On the Monday evening, we went to the dive club. Chris was supposed to go swimming to try out his other mask, but got distracted by a lovely twin set. I went with one of the Duke of Edinburgh girls. Who had all the buoyancy control of a manic helium balloon. But we got there in the end.

Last night we went to the Coastguard, a club trip Chris had organised. It was a most excellent evening involving, amongst other things, setting off all kinds of flares which sorted the closet pyromaniacs from everyone else; mum getting all over-excited about Winnie and Pooh (two big cannons for those who are wondering), and a call out to rescue four lads from a the oozing mud banks of Sandwich. An excellent time was had by all I feel.