The weather God has been playing havoc with the schedule these past two weeks. The whole caboodle was expected to take nine days from start to finish with everyone home for tea and self-congratulatory backslaps by last Friday. But, northerly gales and long period swells being dominant, here we are on day 15 with at least 5 days work remaining and a restart tentatively penciled in for the early hours. Not to be unexpected of course, it’s still early in the season when all said and done.
With a bit of luck allatsea will be returned to the bosom wott is Westbrook Towers on the 2nd or 3rd. Not long there though before it’s time to visit Rotterdam again and look at another bloody great crane vessel. No name and no pack drill but it’s quite new, single hulled, Russian manned and Dutch run. It’s being assessed for some windfarm work in the UK sector. Then again, what isn’t?
Towards the end of May and it West of Shetland time again. Fourth season in a row. Becoming blasé about it these days, though have yet to be bitten well and truly on the arse out there as yet. Thankfully. There’s still time of course, let’s hope it’s no time soon.
And on that note, here’s a poem I didn’t write.
The trees are coming into leaf
Like something almost being said;
The recent buds relax and spread,
Their greenness is a kind of grief.
Is it that they are born again
And we grow old? No, they die too,
Their yearly trick of looking new
Is written down in rings of grain.
Yet still the unresting castles thresh
In fullgrown thickness every May.
Last year is dead, they seem to say,
Begin afresh, afresh, afresh.