Heading south from Hartlepool to the south coast for a bit of array cable installation at a windfarm. The weather’s good and the ship is making good progress. It’s mainly the same crowd that were here last season, rough and ready in the main but good at what they do. They’re loud a lot of the time and this comes hard to the ears, especially if used to more gentle surroundings.
The ETA is tomorrow afternoon, a couple of hours of DP trials on arrival and then, all being well, they’ll start the first cable. The tides are just of full springs and that throws an element of complexity and risk into the mix. The currents will run hard at times and getting caught beam on is a bad place to be, very bad. Very risky. After a jittery event or two last season the lessons have been learned, at least on paper they have. They were mentioned in the pre operational briefing just now, fingers crossed those that matter are fully aware.
I’m here to see that the first few (of sixty two) cables get installed as they should be. As per the agreed and approved procedures. If they do then I’ll observe the first three of this batch and then come back in May once the crew have changed out and observe the first three that the new chaps install. That’s the plan.
The journey up from the sarf to Hartlepool earlier in the week was unusual in that it was the first trip I’d done away from home since UB died. UB was a major part of my (our) life, in character forming, value setting, standards, appreciation, bantering, eating, caring …….. living. I didn’t realise how big a part, how massive a part he’d been. Now he’s gone and I know or rather I’m realising, learning, just how much. At one point on the train journey, just north of Peterborough, I burst into tears, the sadness and realisation just too much to deal with on a busy rattly Edinburgh bound Express. The tears didn’t last long, English sense of duty and all that malarkey came into play, but the sadness endures, of course.
Mucker Geoff is keeping an eye on the tree removal contractors at 143. It’s a fair guess that the garden at said property has been neglected, in varying degrees, for at least a decade. Overgrown is too gentle a word for it. One dead and fallen tree turns out to be not a tree at all but an old fallen metal Rediffusion (a very early cable TV provider from the 1980s) mast that has become entwined and camouflaged with vines and other garden growth. Not quite sure how or if they’ll be able to take it away. If not then it’ll be a job for the disc grinder and Makita reciprocating saw and half a dozen trips to the local tip….sorry….re-cycling centre in the old jam jar.
If all goes well on this fine vessel, then another four or five days should see me back in Fannit and dealing with said Rediffusion mast and re-acquainting with those fine and friendly fellows at the council tip. While dwelling on visits the tip, it brings to the fore the question of what to do with UB’s ashes? Just what do you do with the ashes of someone who meant so much to you? Leave them in the casket and keep them at home I guess?