Irony of beauty

After a horrid year witnessing two loved rellies wither and die, I seek beauty in all things. The irony is, once found, it too, brings tears.IMG_0499

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It’s a thought


Filched from the comments section in the Grauniad

The narcissism required to heckle a comedian always impresses me. Especially in a large venue. You have to believe that your thoughts are so important that they must be shouted out, now, in the middle of a performance, interrupting both the performer and the audience. Fascinating folk, hecklers.



allatsea, at sea, aged 21……………

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2017 spring and summer

This gallery contains 44 photos.

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Era start or era finish?

So, is this the start of a beginning or just the end of a beginning?

Mum died on August 14th. She was 82, had dementia and a right leg shorter than her left leg by some three inches and ………  she’d picked up clostridium difficile from somewhere and that’s what killed her in the end. The end of an era.

Bro was booked to be away from his Western Australian home for a while, closest of the older cousins were in a similar quandary and allatsea was due to be, allatsea on the Dogger Bank.

The end result was that the funeral took place some six weeks after her death. It was in two parts, a short service at her local RC church and then a civil secular service at the crematorium. As these things go, both were poignant and heartfelt and, thankfully, well attended. She was a popular lady known, to many, as generous and kind-hearted. Her send-off was fitting. Hopefully.

Now all is quiet. The last of the visitors from afar have gone, memsahib allatsea is back at work. Allatsea will get of his lazy bottom at the end of the week and travel north to Newcastle for a two week spooling attendance. Crushingly boring usually, but fitting in this case and frankly, welcome. Life, as it is, will become ‘normal’ again, probably.

Over the last five years or so, with stresses put in place by the needs of our two oldies, a great desire for a state of play, notionally referred to as ‘normal’, has been expressed here at the Towers. The concept of a ‘normal’ life seemed as out of reach as it was hard to imagine. Now, with both oldies gone (UB in March and mum recently), the spectre of ‘Normality’ looms large and, sad to say, does not seem as utopian or as tangible as was expected.

Yet another lesson to learn it seems.



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There’s a chap I know who works down the chipshop

He often writes a rhyme

When I asked for battered haddock

He said he didn’t have the time.

Richard hard at work NOT!

Driving in DP, it’s nautical but not as we know it!

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Mmmmmm yum yum yum

Liver, bacon and onions, mmmm.

Bacon, liver and onions mmm.

Just onions, mmmm.

Oooh the liberals don’t like this at all, ooh no. Far too ‘offal’, far too ….. meaty. Apart from the ‘just onions’ option, obviously.

I still think she’s ‘off track’, that woman (what woman?) and I wonder, frequently, why we tolerate it?

Probably because we’re not bothered, either way …..anymore. There’s no point to being bothered, it makes for  a frustrating and disappointing life. Adaption, evolution, acceptance, despite qualms, acceptance, the all governing term, acceptance. It sorts everything.


Kind of? Now then, lets talk bollard pull trials, off the Ligurian coast. Paradise  if there there is such a thing,  Liguria. If there is a god then Italians are God’s chosen people, the custodians of Liguria……aaaah. That said, Sardinia will run it a close race. Also Italian of course. God really really really liked them. Not so the residents of Middlesbrough I fear.

Maersk Beater 8



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Windy farms, windy botties.

We’re on cable burying duties on a windfarm. Foundation A08, our target, is a tantalising 120 metres away. Up until a few minutes ago we were making good progress towards it, then there was a bit of an event that brought things to a halt. T

he giant subsea, multi-million pound burying machine, the ‘Trencher’ croaked and groaned a bit and then with a great melodramatic shudder, shit itself. The trenching supervisor used the term ‘Cattle trucked’ to describe its operational state. Despite the proximity of a very fast and welcome CTV despatched just recently from Shoreham to take yours truly back to shore, I don’t think I’ll be going anywhere soon. Sigh!

At such times of duress and frustration I find the urge to write poetry. Here ye be, straight from the heart.

Burpy bottom
Bottom burp
Lunch was lovely
Slurp, slurp, slurp

Dad RN posed

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