Cannon Street Joy

It’s been a busy time with foreign attendances away from the office, pretty much continuously since January 2nd this year. This entails a lot of travel of course. Although I gripe about airports (the London ones in particular) and air travel in general, the busy schedule of the summer has  lulled me into forgetting about that much more horrid form of travel, commuting. For the last week or so I have been office bound. The  week of commuting on South East trains from the Kent Coast to London’s Cannon Street has come as an unpleasant jolt back to reality. How do people put up with the maltreatment hurled at them journey after journey, day after day?

Broken down trains (it’s the 21st century for goodness sake and trains have been around for 200 years, surely they can build one that’s reliable), signal problems, objects on the line, staff shortages??? Every day!!! And all glibly dismissed with a generic PA’d apology that seemingly, as no fellow passenger seems to even tch or sigh, makes everything all right then.  Come on folks, it’s not ok. It’s chronic ineptness and it can be sorted. Rise up, get angry, kick down the doors of the train operator’s and watch it improve. If we put up with cack they’ll keep giving us cack. Rant over.

Drunky Nunky didn’t pass the monday test. Sad. Hid in his room all evening and drank and drank and drank. Spineless tosser.

It’s still all quiet on the Viking Islay and the three dead sailors business. No initial findings from the MAIB or BP or the ship operator, no details of the accident or the manner of death. No preliminary ‘lessons learned’. No possible causes. It’s impressive stuff. I bet all the parties concerned are bursting with professional pride.

I was wrong about my firm being involved with investigation into the collapsed jack up barge at Milford Haven at the weekend. We’ve been left out of that one. Of course we aren’t the only firm doing the  things that we do. That’ll teach me to assume.

Assume. It’s a good word. It can make an ASS out of U and ME.

I’m not a Jeremy Clarkson fan by any means but I saw one of his ‘deliveries’ recently, and it rather made I giggle. You could of couse  substitute the country name for with any that you desire (possibly the number too) and the effect is the same.

"America: 250 million wankers living in a country with no word for wanker"

About allatsea

Sixty year old master-mariner. Absolutely gorgeous. Well wedged.....when compared to a Nairobi street urchin. Sorted, in that I haven't been in court recently. Hopelessly optimistic, terminally disappointed. Good with cats and other fluffy things. No musical talent. Generous to a fault provided it's someone else's round. Political centreist with far right and left viewpoints. A green activist from the hydrocarbon position with nuclear leanings. Averse to avarice but always happy to receive lottery wins, gifts, windfalls, legacies, prizes and wet sloppy kisses.
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