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.