Being an Aquarian..............

Being “Aquarian” I am apparently “A little odd”! which is strange, because I “don’t FEEL odd” in fact I would go so far as to say, despite my ramblings, my affinity with certain groups, I have an abiding sense of “normality” and by that I really mean straight, fair, courtesy, civility and justice. Of course all of those are subjective and differ in interpretation depending on the society one lives in. if one is a tribesman in the boonies of South America, it is ok if you are first back to the village after a hunt trip, to sleep with someone else’s wife. Burping may seem rude in the west but is considered very correct in some countries. And lopping off a limb is perfectly acceptable as a punishment for swiping something in other countries. Quite frankly, I find all three, unacceptable. I am wondering where we as a race are heading?

I always thought it would be a good thing to reach ever higher in our quest for whatever we are questing!

Necessity is the mother of invention apparently and I am now wondering what is “Necessary”? What is “really” necessary? Not what we “Think” we need as a direct result of the particular society we live in. you “think” you need that McDonalds? No you don’t, you need a carrot or cabbage, you “Want” a McDonalds and you probably “Want” it because of some mysterious marketing or mass hypnosis. An addiction we don’t think of as an addiction.

I was thinking about these small hidden communities in South America and wondering why they had remained the same for centuries-millennia, whatever it is they believe, has kept them in a perfect state for so long and their number has remained balanced and in harmony with their environment, while ours in the west has spiralled out of control and continues to do so. Most of us are absolutely dependent on the system continuing as it is, and it is NOT a good system! In a couple of hundred years we have gone from being able to float in a balloon (Montgolfier bros) to unmanned drones bombing the fuck out of whatever. And apparently, we have sent men to the Moon! But our cars still use rubber to roll on and internal combustion to propel, just like they did in the beginning! Every piece of technological advancement has been in the “how to get more money out of the people” sector.  And just about ALL of it has been based on “Oil” consider the following:

If the sunshine radiating on the surface of an area 100 miles wide by 100 miles long would provide all of the electricity that America needs, every day, why would Americans hesitate to use it? There are millions of open acres in the deserts of America, where the sun's energy does nothing more than heat rocks and sand.

This is using CSP (concentrated solar power) a technology that has existed for quite a while now. There is NO justice while we are enslaved to Oil. If that philosophy makes me “Odd” then odd I bloody well am! The reason we don’t get it is because you can’t really justify making us pay for it! What do you think it “Actually” costs to make a mobile phone call? About fuck all is the answer! The technology and systems are in place and have been paid for a trillion times over, so now it is just a revenue generator, but we pay and pay and pay and say “ooh I got a great deal with carphone whorehouse or whoever, 500 texts included! Whoopfuckinee, I say. And the same will happen with energy.  And all is to satisfy………….. What? A “Need” we don’t really have! A “need” we have been conned into “thinking” we have. Physically we need food shelter and warmth the rest is window dressing at the expense of what our minds may achieve.

Being an “Aquarian”, I think like this!!

The Babble.

I

n the beginning there was the word, and the word was “Wood” it was a good word because verily one could use it to describe a thing that could be burned and therefore give warmth to the woefully inadequate hairless creatures that had been abandoned on this inhospitable planet.

Nobody could speaketh the “word” because the vocal chord structure had not developed beyond “grunting” which even so, was a great improvement on the oo oo a sound that had previously been the means of communicating.

A time passed (and it was a damn sight longer than seven days, I can tell you!) and many multiples of peoples happened. As a result of an overwhelming desire to respond to a totally natural feeling of wanting thex. (The vocal chords were still developing but hadn’t mastered the “S” sound)

One evening whilst sitting staring into the flames of the fire, a man thought to himself, “I am bigger and stronger than that other man and I want what he has” and so, he beat him about the head with a large piece of “wood” and did take all his possessions including his bird! And then, another man did the same thing and then another until………. There were many tough men causing all sorts of trouble for the weaklings. Another time passed and the tough men started fighting with each other until there was only one who could not be beat. He did organise the tough men into a hierarchy of strong men that would become “Lords and masters” and they did control all the weaklings and did make them work bloody long hours for very little!

After another interminably long period, the weaklings did “sneak out at night” and “Talk “and they talked a lot of nonsense until one day one of them actually had a good idea. They knew they couldn’t fight the masters with their fists so they decided to use their Brains. And so it came to pass that a “Story” would be made up about something you “Couldn’t see” you couldn’t get it here on Earth either so that would really pisseth of the tough men! The story would henceforth be called “The Babble” it would talk of Virgins and plenty, and it would counter this with fire and ugly people, this would surely anger the toughies and make them want it!

It was known that this story would take a long time to get any credibility but the weakling were patient also. They would add to the story with tales of eternal life and shit and talk of a “Great King” that would come and save the slaves

The weaklings too decided they needed a hierarchy and so decided to create priests and vicars and Rabbi and all kinds of strangely named positions. Many were slaughtered by the toughies because they were getting a bit “uppity” but the weaklings didn’t have any choice but to continue with the story. And soon they were legion and even the toughies knew they had a problem on their hands and so they “did a deal” with the top weaklings and agreed to milk the really dozy ones for all they could. It was the “double whammy”!

The toughies created “Laws” and the Storytellers created “fears” and lo, Joe Public was well and truly stuffed!

The Lords would ride over the lands stealing from the peasants and raping everything and the Church of the Babble would say “asketh ye the Lord for help”! And so many confused and distraught peoples had to make some decisions. Some would pay homage to the Lords and Masters and in return only have to accept being slaves, and the rest decided on the “Long shot” and went for the fairytales and everlasting life in a hitherto unproved place.

Another Age passed and many thousands of Believers of the Babble were slain. But this just strengthened the resolve of the weaklings and they did grow in number, the parents would tell these stories to the young susceptible children and that was a mean trick but it worked. The children grew up with this story and believed it to be true. Their number grew until the balance of power was in their hands! And then began……….. “The Dark ages” where the weaklings did nasty stuff to anyone who questioned the Babble. So many generations had passed and the “story” was now the law. And the “Law” was an Arse.

Chi Zeus:

A great Hippy who was called “Chi Zeus” had wandered the lands of the chosen ones many years before the dark ages and he was not best pleased with them! His Mother “Mary Jane” was cool but his father worked with…………… “The WOOD” and was a miserable git. Chi had visited one of the places of money worship and lost his rag at all the money lenders, he also visited one of the “Storytellers” and did “wipe the floor with him intellectually”! And so was banished.

Chi decided to visit India as it was known to be a place of great spirituality and cool drugs. And Goa was still pretty unspoilt.

He learned all sorts of clever tricks while he was there and learned that we could “ALL” do them if we managed to avoid being enslaved and brainwashed. He was beside himself, which even he admitted was a clever trick!

Chi, for some odd reason, thought he could teach the toughies and weaklings a new way and so he caught a Camel back to his home town and started telling “another story”. Chi knew these people were a bit thick and so he disguised his stories as simple parables in the hope they would get the message; they didn’t!

He explained many times the theory of allegorical symbolism but alas they just said “can you do that trick with the water to wine again, oh go on be a sport”!

Many years passed and he did draw unto him “12”! Disciples but one of them was a wrongun!

Jew D’ Arse  who Chi Zeus had renamed Judas (for obvious reasons!) had struck a deal with the Romans, he was in hock with Moshe the money lender for 4.5 pieces of silver but being a sensible Jewish boy, he negotiated an extra 1.5 pieces for a rainy day. “CZ” as he was known to his friends, was duly nabbed and then tried and convicted of being too nice.

But there was a special offer on at the time and the people were given the choice of a murdering blaggard called “Barabbas” or “CZ the peaceful”

“Hang the Hippy” they all shouted, and so it was done.

CZ had learned to slow his heartbeat down to a beat or two a minute and so when the Romans put their ears to his chest they decided he was done. He was taken down and stuffed into a cave with a sheet wrapped around him and when they did closeth the entrance to the cave with a big rock. CZ did awaken and piss himself laughing! It left a stain on the shroud and was a bugger to get out!

He then moved the rock using telekinesis and went back to India.

Back in the Dark ages there were some right old capers being done.

The lands and possessions were being divided up between all the nasty bastards and the peasant did wail much. But between brutal landlords and brutal churchmen he didn’t stand a hope in hell.

The landlords would scare the shit out of them with unambiguous threats of rape torture and disembowelling, and the church………..well, some of that too but also the big one. As if it wasn’t bad enough trying to make a few bob on earth, if you didn’t give it to one or other of the toughie groups, you could “Go to HELL”!

The system went a little like this:

Farmer woodman tinker or whatever was told he needed “protecting” from other baddies and so he paid taxes to the toughies. The Church told him he needed “Protecting” from himself!! And so he paid them too. The toughies scared him with “Earthly” torment and the Church with everlasting torment!

But the peasant started revolting much and the toughies (who had now called themselves the establishment) decided to trick the peasant by holding elections which meant he could choose between one arsehole or another! And so it was done, and the peasant suckered for the con and it became accepted as normal. Although often with a curse.

The other side of Plod.

Back in the mid eighties I met a man who we shall call “Sooty” (That was his codename)

Sooty worked at Colchester CID and was the neighbour of a friend at the time. I was unemployed (Around the time of the great wind 87 I think)

Sooty befriended me and said I seemed like the type that might enjoy “adventure”! He was right, I did. The proposition went something like this:

Within the CID there is a “slush-fund” that is used to support/fund people who act for the police in certain covert operations. At the time there was a deal of interest in the “Socialist Workers Party” Sooty described it as a group that infiltrated March’s and rally’s and deliberately caused disruption. What the police wanted was someone on the ground to report back to them of the members and details about theses rallies.

He explained in detail how I was to go about getting involved and told me of the Guy who sold the SWP paper near Sheregate steps. He said I was to become “dishevelled” and just buy the paper and move on. I was to do this many times before the guy would suggest I might be interested in joining them or coming to a meeting.

He said that I should develop an appearance that might not be to my liking and that I should ignore friends or family if they saw me with these guys.

One of the conditions for me to take this one was that I should not have any outstanding warrants or fines or suchlike. The police would not want to use anyone with “Current” issues. In return things like my car tax insurance etc would be “taken care of” they wouldn’t pay me but would make sure I had no costs in certain areas.

He asked me to give him my full name so he could check me out at the nick and suggested I give the matter some serious thought as it was quite a dangerous situation to get involved in. he also said I was to tell absolutely no one about what he had told me including family and that he would simply deny everything if it came out.

Well “that” sounds like a jolly jape, I thought! Sort of “James Bond” without Brioni! Er, or a gun, or fancy car, or support or Q, in fact fuck all like James Bond really!

He said I should “think about it carefully as it could be dangerous!” and I would not be thanked appreciated or get any recognition for it. Well I decided to break the first rule straight away! My dad was Military Police for many years and I thought he might be able to give me some guidance, so I told him the whole thing and said “what do you think”? He simply replied, “You must make your own mind up”! It wasn’t quite what I wanted to hear, I wanted him to offer some guidance but I also thought just in case it goes pear shaped, I want someone to know what was happening.

A few days later Sooty came to me and told me I had a warrant out for my arrest! I was surprised but he said it was just for non payment of a £50.00 fine and that if I still wanted to be his bitch (he didn’t use that term!:)) then he would arrange for me to visit the Police station and it would all be sorted amicably. Otherwise, he said, I could just forget it and he would carry on as if we never met. No arrest no hassle from the Plod. Well, I wanted this warrant dealt with anyway; I didn’t even know I had any outstanding fines!

A couple of days later Sooty has arranged for me to go to the Station and be arrested and bailed with no fuss. I would appear in court and pay the fine and then I could start the shenanigans with the SWP.

Out of curiosity, I decided to see who this SWP guy was, Sooty had painted a nasty picture of him but I like to see for myself.

I took a walk into town and he was where Sooty said he would be. A geeky looking guy but with a look of menace in his eyes.

I was dressed in jeans and combat jacket with red and white polka dot scarf and so I didn’t think I looked “establishment” anyway.

As I walked passed him he offered me a paper. I stopped and thought “fuck it, why not” so I said ok. He then started talking to me, this wasn’t supposed to happen! Sooty had definitely said he would wait until he got to know my face. Well he didn’t, we talked and then he invited me to a meeting which was being held upstairs at the Blue Boar. I was simply going with the flow so I said ok and we left it at that.

I couldn’t get hold of Sooty before the meeting so decided to go anyway, after all, what harm could it do.

The meeting consisted of the SWP paper seller and 4 other people. It seemed Colchester didn’t have a very active branch yet and what he wanted was for us to recruit………Disempowered, unemployed, and generally rough and tough members. There was talk of why SWP was doing these rallies and yes the objective “Was” to disrupt them, it seemed more like an “Anarchist group” than a “Socialist” one.

He said we had to form a committee and needed chairman, treasurer, admin etc. I was made treasurer!  It was moving fast but at that age I didn’t give a damn, it was interesting!

So, meeting ended and we went our separate ways. I did make one mistake!! I gave him my home phone number!

I managed to get hold of Sooty later and told him what had happened, he was not happy! He said it was all too quick and he hadn’t even got “approval” to use me from his superior! “I” wasn’t best pleased either! So much for “it will take a while for them to accept me”! I wasn’t exactly prepared for this so soon.

It never happened in the end, Sooty didn’t contact me and I didn’t get involved with the SWP. The Guy called the phone a few times but I never followed any of it up.

“What would have happened if I HAD”? well, I decided that if I did get involved with them I would tell them what I had been asked to do and use the situation to turn it around on Plod! In just a few weeks I had gone from James Bond to Antony Burgess!

I am glad it never happened; I “talk” too much and would have made a lousy Spy.

update.

I know quite a few Policepeople and actually get/got on with them very well. One said to me many years ago that there was a very fine line between a Crook and a Copper and that some Coppers crossed it. Obviously it isn’t possible for a Crook to cross in the other direction! “He” can only go one better and become “Straight”!  I met one of these ex cops here in Spain; he had been medically discharged after having been thrown through a shop window by a nasty crook. He had sustained serious injuries as a result and was pensioned off. Some of the things he told me were quite incredible and mostly unrepeatable.

If you have read any of my previous ramblings, you will know I have had some pretty underhand treatment from the boys in suits but I never really thought it was odd! I accepted that there was a “game” being played and as a crook the odds were “stacked” (Luckily!)

Being an “Accidental crook” is complete stupidity! Just as in any other “occupation”, you just can’t do it properly by accident, you need training and the police score well on this level because an Accidental crook is usually a plonker whereas the CID are well trained. It’s no contest really.

I was brought up very well, well, what I mean is, I was given all the correct tools and had no misunderstandings about “right and wrong” (as defined by society) so I “Knew” lying was wrong (generally) and stealing (likewise, generally) I was also led to believe that society was a “Fair and just” place and that it functioned within certain honourable constraints. That, of course is total bollocks! It only does that if you “play along with it” and if you don’t want to play the same game, you are stuffed.

Anyway, I have found “uniformed Police” to be on the whole, good people working for bad people. The lower the rank the more honourable the intention. But unfortunately they have superiors who have agenda’s and those agendas are covert.

I met a guy here who was attached to Interpol; the circumstances by which I met him are best left out of it until or unless I get permission from the relevant people.

He was a nice guy and even suggested “throwing a spanner in the works” on one occasion that would have been “useful” to me. I didn’t take him up on the offer and certainly didn’t want to be “beholding” to him.

I was the Cook at the Foresters Arms in Colchester back in the eighties and this Pub was frequented by all sorts of Law industry workers. Including CID, I even got invited to the CID ball once!

One of the Cids sold me a car while I was there. He used to be a car sales man before joining the force. It was a blue Citroen GSA. I paid £200.00 for it and it was fine for…………..a day! Then the clutch went. I was recounting this event to a Cid one day and he was very angry at the other Cid. There was going to be a party of Cids at the pub celebrating some event and I was tasked with providing the food/buffet. I did consider putting half a kilo of Cascara or sennapods in the buffet but thought better of it.

The Cid who was pissed off at the Car sales Cid suggested we get him back!

The reason this clutch thing was a problem was because to replace the clutch on this car was around £400.00 as it required “removing the engine”! Go figure ….anyway, the nice Cid suggested we have a raffle, a rigged raffle and that my car was the prize! This Car sales Cid was known to be a real raffle junky and wasn’t too popular with the other Cids. We rigged it so that whatever ticket he got would be the winner.

I would lose the car, but he would get egg on his face!

All the other Cids were aware of this little jape and the raffle duly came and he duly won it. His face was a picture as the prize was known to be “A Car”! His face was not such a pretty picture when he went outside and saw the car he had won! All the other Cids thought it was really funny, but he was apoplectic! He ranted about having not known the car was crap and that his mother in law (yeah right) had not had any problems with it. “I” was avenged and it was good. Of course, it “could” have been a scam for him to sell me the car and then get it back! In which case hmmmmmmmmmmm I taste omelette!

Frankly, while there are so many nasty shits roaming our planet, I am grateful there “Are” Police. What I would like to see are the thousands of Police who have been convicted of an offence, “Summarily dismissed” with no pension. “That” would be a start.

http://www.independent.co.uk/news/uk/crime/convicted-police-officers-still-on-the-force-met-chief-reveals-473533.html

My Bonnie lies over the Ocean.

I was going to write about “Petticoat Breeze” an Oyster 435 yacht that I sailed across the Atlantic with its owner in 1994, but quite frankly, and this may sound odd, but……….well, it was pretty boring! Apart from a B1 Knockdown about half way across which put Brian and me on the cabin sole with a full breakfast following and the excitement of catching “One” yes “One” fish in 21 days! It was uneventful. The skies were unbelievable though. There can be few places on the planet where the total lack of light pollution, other than the soft phosphorescence of the sea, afford one an astronomical experience that will stay with you a lifetime. Oh, and the occasional flying fish smacking you in the ear at night! That is one weird feeling; it really IS getting slapped in the face with a wet fish!

It sort of went like this: Left Gibraltar (that’s always a pleasure, fucking dump!) three days “reaching” down the coast of Africa to Gran Canaria and Las Palmas. Two weeks of party and social events, Briefing for passage/race. Day of race, 200 plus yachts vying for position! That was “Fun”! Then bang, off we go. Head off down the African coast once again until Cape Verde then Hang a right and put everything up. For “running” (With the wind) we decided to put 2 genny's up and leave the main down. Whisker poles made sure they stayed where they were in case of lack of wind, and “preventers” so they didn’t flap around (that was why the B1 was a little scary) anyway, every 4pm B would say, “Right, time for a cigar” on the aft of the yacht. Only ever Havana’s. Conversation dries up pretty bloody quick on 40 odd feet of yacht after a few days! Believe me, if you are going to do this, take a “partner” (relationship kind) that’ll fuck it for sure!!

So, that’s it really. We sailed into Rodney Bay St Lucia at 9pm. I had a week of hard partying (much to the annoyance of B) and then flew back to Spain.

Now if you want an exciting sailing adventure you need to take a sixty five foot wooden motor yacht from Gib to Valetta! You can call her “Sea Crest” if you want, the skipper did. And you can do it in 5 days of howling Mediterranean gales, now “That” will be “interesting”

Most people don’t realise that the Med is probably more dangerous than sailing the Atlantic.

We had enormous “rollers” crossing the Atlantic. Deep troughs and huge peaks spread over a decent distance are like a rollercoaster and incredible fun in good weather. You find yourself shouting “yeeeeehaw” when helming these seas. But the Med? Fucking awful “short confused opposing” seas. Incredible violent winds such as Mistral, Ghibli, Tramontana, Merak, Kamsin, Bora, they didn’t name most of the Maserati’s after “Breezes”! They can be wilder than a “Cougar with a pool-boy”

Anyway, Sea Crest was a TSDMY (twin screw diesel motor yacht) 2 beautiful Rolls Royce engines stuffed below acres of teak. She was Old but well loved if a little quirky.  For example, to make the port prop go forward you turned this wheel clockwise half a dozen turns, then you have the throttle that controls this engine now “THAT” requires “TWO” hands! To make the port engine go in reverse, you spin the wheel anti-clockwise and if you need to do that when you are already in forwards, it is a lot of wheel spinning. Now that would be ok if you only had one engine, but Sea Crest has two! So you get to do the same thing with the Starboard engine too. Anyone who understands Boating with a twin Screw will likely know you can have one engine in forward and one in backward revving at different speeds and can manoeuvre the boat quite well that way but with all these permutations! Sea Crest was a bitch and three quarters! Not an issue out at sea but in a Med marina stuffed with plastic gin palaces! I can tell you, there are a lot of worried faces on the “Plastics” when Sea Crest starts moving.

The owner Jim was taking her back to Malta and I went along to help. As is usual in the Med, we had left port in good weather and it wasn’t until we were far enough out to make returning a bore, that the weather changes. Forecasting is not particularly exact and it is major fickle anyway. We knew we could expect 5-7 and were not concerned by that, but we ended up with 8-9 and 10 which whilst amusing for short trips, become unbelievably draining after 24 hrs let alone 3-4 days.

We had a stop in Menorca for fuel and set off for Valetta.

Sea Crest was a lavishly appointed yacht with everything you could possibly want, including a “Bath”  she was also equipped with a “Vosper Thorneycroft Gyroscopic Stabiliser” “Oh yes!!” unfortunately neither Jim nor I realised it was really only meant for sickly swelly seas. We didn’t make this realisation until a day and a half of constant whirring from the room it was housed in. it was a loudish bang which needed investigating, the poor sodding thing had been attempting to correct the heavily rocking yacht for 36 hours when it decided to pop a pipe! I don’t know how many gallons of incredibly slippery hot oil ended up on the floor but it was a laugh and a half trying to clean it up in that sea! Jim had a fantastic attitude partly due (probably) to a stomach cancer remission. He knew how to have fun. I wish he hadn’t sold me that shotgun but that’s another story!

It was a Sunday and the sea was still raging and tossing the Yacht all over the place. We hadn’t eaten properly for a while so I told Jim I was going to make a full roast, Yorkshires an all. This meant wedging yourself between whatever you could in the galley; it was probably a bit daft having three pans of boiling water on the go even with a “gimballed” cooker, Sea Crest had a normal household one which made it even dafter but I persevered and a couple of hours later we were eating the full Monty chicken three veg roast spuds AND Yorkies! With chicken gravy from the stock. I love a challenge!

There is more to this but I am tired…………………………

Ok, awake again!

After 2 days of this awful weather and constant unrelenting rocking of Sea Crest, things generally start to “loosen”! On the back of the yacht is a system of retaining a small launch/dinghy, “Davits” and Sea Crest had a rather nice expensive RIB complete with powerful outboard motor. This “Should” have been stowed away for such a long trip but it wasn’t; it was simply drawn up on some ropes in the usual way. Well, inevitably it broke free on one side and was crashing about half in the sea and banging against the transom. I saw this happen and legged it outside to try and save it. It was bloody lunacy hanging over the stern rails trying to pull it up but even though Jim was all for “cutting it loose” I kept trying. Eventually I managed to get it clear of the water and hauled it back up onto the Davits. Made sure it was well lashed this time. Looking back, I realise I never see the danger in things at sea. I feel totally comfortable doing things that I really shouldn’t risk! It wasn’t even “My” dinghy but the challenge was too strong to ignore.

It was getting dark as we approached Malta and the weather was an easterly gale (think it was Easterly) we could see lights on the coast and so examined the Charts (don’t ever call them Maps!) to see where the entrance to Valetta was; we thought we could see port and starboard harbour lights in the distance and so called the port authority on the radio and let them know we were arriving. Sea Crest was equipped with Radar and so we set it to about a mile and looked for an entrance; we couldn’t see one but were pretty sure these lights must be the entrance, the port said,”nope, we can’t see you on OUR radar?” we still headed for these lights. I suppose we were a few hundred yards away when the depth sounder started showing a rapidly disappearing depth! And then we realised these lights were on a nightclub or disco! We Jim threw the wheel over and we headed back out before we became an artificial island!

All sorts of info is available to sailors re navigation and port info so we looked to see if there was anything to help figure out exactly where we were. There was a ferry that went between Valetta and Sicily I think it was, and we spotted her lights off to our port. The port guide book said “never try and enter Valetta in an easterly gale unless you have knowledge of the entrance!” we were too pissed off with being at sea in such crap weather to take heed and so decided another night at sea was a no go.

Jim took the helm and I stuck my face into the rubber cowl to look at the radar. Jim said, “tell me when to turn” this was a dodgy manoeuvre as it meant presenting Sea Crests beam (side) to huge waves and risked a capsize. We had to time it precisely. The Ferry had disappeared into the entrance as I could see on the radar; Jim kept saying “now?” I replied, “wait……. Wait…………wait” then we were at midpoint to the entrance and I said “Now!” it was a little nervy as the helm went over to turn, the sea picked her up from the port stern quarter and she was in a strange position for what seemed ages pitching forward but also listing heavily to port. Then she slid down a wave and “surfed” into the harbour entrance! It was crazy but fun, a 65 foot 30 tonne surfboard! And then………. Peace, totally flat water, that is an eerie feeling going from terrible seas to the calm of a port. We secured her into a berth and stepped ashore, Terra firma always feels very odd after such a trip but it was wonderful. Your body totally relaxes but your brain still rocks.

COBOL FORTRAN & BASIC

Maybe a little explanation of “why” I am a tad jaded is called for. But please, don’t go telling me to “Move on”! Put it behind you etc, I really don’t give it much thought but I do think it pertinent as I am not a Salmon! And I also never look back and hanker!

Just before I married, I knew I would have to get sensible and start a career or at least attempt to be a more successful crook. I looked at what was available for the likes of me, no qualifications, no stable work history, a record, etc, and I decided I needed to get some training in an area that interested me.

About that time, computers were a fairly rare beast and very few people had “Pc’s” but, I had a hunch it would be a popular thing and so decided to get some training in it.

I knew there was going to be a course at Colchester Tech College in Computer programming and so bought a couple of books on Programming. One was the series, “Programming for dummies”. At that time, the programming language was generally “Basic” but there was “COBOL and FORTRAN too” and so I learned the three. I then toddled off down to the College for an interview.

I had done this officially and so was a little nervous as there were also going to be three people on a panel.

I should say here that I was able to learn the programming because I had er um acquired a Tandy EX 3000 from a “Trusted source” ;)

I arrived at the college and announced myself (there wasn’t a Barker!) I sat in front of this panel, smartly dressed, and answered all their questions eloquently and with some degree of confidence borne out of my study. They asked me other questions relating to engineering and the like and then……………………………… then they said, “We think you would do very well on the Hardware design course and would I be interested in that instead! Well, I bit their hand off! “Yes, I replied, I think I would like that” it was all too good to be true, “Hardware design”! Fuck me that was the top course! , they said they thought I would pass it with “Flying Colours. They then asked me, “What office experience have you had”!?..........I was on one of those, “tell the truth be honest, and everything will work out right, trips again! So told them I had none, save a little knowledge of goods in goods out from when my Father ran the Co-Op grocery warehouse for East Anglia.  They persisted with this line for a little longer seeming to try and get more out of me re Office or white collar work, and then said I should wait outside while they cogitated (obviously they didn’t use THAT word) I went into the corridor and sat nervously waiting and letting my mind run wild with thoughts of “designing shit”! After a few minutes, I was called back in and sat down. The one in the middle said to me, “we are very sorry, but it is our belief that although we think you would pass the course without problems, they felt I would NOT be able to get employment afterwards because in their experience, companies would demand some history of “Office work”!  They expressed regret at this situation and I thanked them for their time anyway and left.

Now, I was barely twenty when this happened. I had been rejected by the Army at 16 and there followed a plethora of rejections for the next 4-5 years whenever I attempted to “Fit in”. I was told for one reason or another, “Sorry we don’t think...” no, they didn’t fucking “Think”! if they had “Thunk” I might not be sitting here in Warm southern Spain working one day a week for a paradisiacal casita with uninterrupted views down to the warm Med and views of Africa, thinking “hmmmm, what shall I do now”?

Truth is, I DO get scared every now and then, but believe me; I have tried to fit in where “I” felt I could. It just doesn’t happen.