Last day at the Array and whilst I’d like to say hip hip hooray I won’t because although it’s been unpleasantly draining a lot of the time it’s also been lovely to work with smashing people and quite an, dare I say it, enriching episode in an esoteric sort of way.
Two years have gone by in a flash and 366 lifetimes. A paradox and no mistake your honour. The experience, whilst scarring, is for the moment at least, pleasantly memorable.
Very cold here in Ramsgate today, thick ice on all the jamjars, slippy pavements and frozen puddles. Crewboat engines reluctant to start and judging from the less than enthusiastic boatraces off the offshore technicians, so were they. Hey, if they can’ take a joke they shouldn’t have joined.
There are nine hours left before I can drive out the gates for the last time and there’s a great deal going on in the field during that time. Too much, me-fears, to allow a hassle free day. The goodship Discooooverry is already living up to her reputation by making a simple crewchange as interesting and challenging as it is possible to do….bless. That said she is banging those turbine towers up pdq so I suppose she can be forgiven. Thursday afternoon could, just, see it all done. Some achievement really, 175 turbines in a year. Hats off and three cheers.
Right knee has decided to play up at this pivotal time in its owner’s storyboard and this is most unwelcome. Most unwelcome indeed. Crikey, talk about an appalling sense of timing. Sort of like a chap breaking the news to his fiancée at the altar, that he’s actually a brown-hatter and is having second thoughts about this marriage to a lady milarkey. Or possibly telling the SAS selection panel at the very final stage that you’re opposed to violence and can’t be doing with all marching and yomping type stuff. All not very welcome.
Christmas is coming ……………………..groan or yippee I’m not sure. It’s a bit of a tortuous affair at the Towers. Collect mummy allatsea Christmas morning and proceed to drunkynunky’s pile in Millmead Road. Decamp there with pressies, cards and an impending sense of doom. Eat a pre Xmas dindins there at around 1pm and attempt to avoid strangling other family members and tearful reminiscences of festive seasons from 40 years ago. No escape available via the alcohol route due to being duty driver. Eventually re-embark in jamjar sans pressie etc and return to Westbrook on deserted roads through darkest Margate.
Arrive back at the Towers and open a bottle of gin, drink, die on settee while memsahib prepares proper dindins. Wake up mid-evening, smile engagingly at other family members, dribble a bit and suggest going to bed early ready for a prompt start to the sales on Boxing day. Aah, the joy of it all, can’t wait.
And with that happy thought I say ‘Happy Christmas’ to you. Bring on 2013.