Post Scapa missive

Okay, so for those who don’t know, I’ve had some interesting issues over my BAA shares. Computershare have had a backlog, which has meant that whenever I’ve sent something, I’ve received an acknowledgement by return and an actual reply up to three months later. The crux of the matter is that my last registered address was Hextable Close, and they needed proof that I was at *that* address before moving to Beazley Court. Proof could be a utility bill. Any utility bill at all.

Except that I moved from Hextable over six years ago, and destroyed the utility bills from that address well over a year ago. Over much routing around and finding loads of stuff with Hextable on it, there was a distinct lack of anything that I thought might be acceptable. Nice man at Computershare suggested bank statements and all sorts, but I tend to destroy thing at five years, although I suppose six years is the legal requirement.

However, in my routing around, I discovered that I had P60s! From Magna/Intier covering the period where I moved. They weren’t on the approved list of documentation, but I sent them off with a very polite letter explaining that it was all a number of years ago, and would they please consider my P60s to be adequate. I awaited my acknowledgement by return. It never came.

Seven days later, I received my P60s in a blank envelope with no explanation. Upon telephoning, I was advised that it was being processed and could take a few weeks. Sigh.

And then, out of the blue and in amongst the large pile of post awaiting my attention after Scapa, there was a very nice letter waiting for me. A very, very nice letter confirming transfer to this address. Thanks for the heads up, Dad *hugs*.

Also amongst my post was a letter from the TV Licensing people telling me that they had information that I had a TV recording device and no licence for a TV. Just call me gobsmacked. Rang them to inform that I’d been paying by Direct Debit since time began, and who the hell gave my vendor permission to tell them anyway? And was answered by an answering machine which I worked my way through. I think the problem has something to do with them spelling my surname with four ‘L’s, three ‘C’s and no vowels.

The Monday after we returned, I took an Ocean Diver lecture in the evening, in which I managed to scare any budding wreck divers. On the Tuesday I took Try-Snorkellers (three seven year old and one forty-two year old), and failed to drown them. Actually, they were kind of fun. Actually listened and do what they were told.

Last weekend we went to Kent Divers for air fills and came back to mine. The kits had been having the hump because I’d abandoned them for a whole week. They still had the hump and turned their backs.

Sunday we had a dive. We stayed in-shore, mostly because we had a newly qualified Sports Diver who was very nervous and wanted to keep to reasonably shallow depths, so we chose a wreck we hadn’t done before off Samphire Hoe, the Helene (which might be the Helene aka the Orangeman or the Halcyon).

Nervous Sports Diver along with two buddies went down and had a great dive whilst Chris and I looked after the RIB. They came back up and boarded the RIB, Chris and I kitted up, rolled overboard and went down the shot. Visibility was a metre at best. Less at point of anchor in the wreck. Being the last pair in (Chris volunteering this), we had to free the anchor and send it to the surface. The anchor was caught in fishing nets wrapped around the underside of the bow of the wreck. So, I freed the anchor while Chris got the lifting bag ready, but whilst I was pulling the anchor free, I noticed that I personally had some unexpected resistance. I was caught in the fishing net.

Now, one of two things happen; either paaaniiiic, which is what happened to that poor chap on the Dresden, or training kicks in.

I grabbed hold of Chris, on the basis that if I wasn’t going anywhere, neither was he. He was very puzzled as this was not normal procedure for me, but went with it, sending the anchor up and stowing his kit. Once he was sorted, he asked me if I was OK, and I indicated that I had a problem. Given the visibility, he and his torch had to come very close up and personal, but found that a couple of loops had caught around my gauge. Now you have to understand that there were plenty of backups in place. We both had blobs to send up and mark our places, we both had knives in easy reach to cut the netting and at twenty metres I had enough Nitrox (oxygen enriched air) to last the best part of two hours which is more than enough time to get Coastguard and commercial divers on site and down.

In any case, Chris unlooped the net and I was free. This all took place in the space of about four minutes. The only thing I found creepy and somewhat disconcerting was the bow of the wreck soaring over the top of us; on any other day I would have found it impressive, but on this day it was intimidating. The entire incident was enough to remind us both never ever to get complacent. Scuba is one of the safest sports in the world; but, like driving, only if you’re sensible, aware and in control, especially if there’s a difficulty, otherwise it can be unforgiving.

We went on to mooch around for another twenty minutes, finding lots of holes, however wildlife was minimal. There was a lot of silt which probably stunted any growth, and eventually I got bored and decided to call an end. We launched a DSMB (blob) and came up. This is not wreck I would care dive again unless Samphire suffered from a day of excellent viz, in which case I’d love to dive her again.

Monday, we had a day of leisure. It was lovely just to stop for a while. We mooched over to the South Foreland Lighthouse, and I played with my cameras macro settings.

Tuesday evening, we did a Try-Scuba evening in the Hundred of Hoo pool. That was fun. Especially as we had a film crew making an ad for the Hoo leisure centre. The part where they were filming us might have worked better if they’d had an underwater camera *snerk!*.

Wednesday, I had an interview with Medway Sports Council, which went well, and a long way towards getting me on the approved Sports Coach Register; I need to do a couple of courses in Spetember to finalise. Kits decided that I’d been punished enough and all demanded cuddles all at the same time. Fish were very unhappy.

Bill unfortunately passed away whilst I was at Scapa, cause unknown. But today, all the fish were at the surface, including the baby plecs who were all very neatly arranged in a border around the perimeter of the tank. It turned out that the air pump was dying, letting out very few bubbles. Emergency visit to the pet shop resulted in vicious dual air tube air pumping going on, which sent entire tank into paroxysms of highly oxygenated delight.

This weekend is given over to parental visitations, next weekend is coaching course, then Weymouth weekend, then girly weekend, then October. Its all go!