Monthly Archives: June 2013

NOT if you are half Possum

In the cold light of day, I have to admit to beginning to feel my age a little.

I was watching a couple on the beach earlier with their son who was probably around 10 or 12 years old.  Watching them jump in the air while taking photos I did feel their pain.  Not that they had a rough landing, no.  I read their expressions that clearly from 100 yards away said – ‘ I used to be able to jump higher than that‘.  Both him and her had it written all over their faces – and it was painfully obvious that they had put all of their effort into making a jump that probably didn’t elevate their head more than 6 inches from its normal height from the ground.

I feel that pain too – most days, while running or cycling or even reaching for something.  It’s just not as good as it used to be, a little less spring in my step, taking the stairs all the way to the bottom instead of jumping half of them, running up a kerb and getting enough lift to clear the obstacle and land on the pavement rather than bounding like a Gazelle and landing a metre further forward than I really needed to.  I fear the Reaper is gaining speed on me slowly but surely.

On a less grim note – my car is EPIC !  A bit juicy with a board on the roof, a bike on the back and a boot full of crap, but still all the same, rather damn splendid. it glides effortlessly and in utter comfort for 1000 kilometres and I never even felt tired.  I like it a lot.

Have also managed to touch base with almost all of the people I need to and a couple of surprises along the way too.  I have to decide if I want to do battle with the local electricity board again.  A year and a half ago, I told them that no-one had lived in my house for over a year, gave them a new meter reading and expected to get a huge refund – but no – this is Portugal – As much bullshit as Spain but where the people are twice as stupid.

Lagos Marina has a Café so I just had to head there for a full english breakfast this morning, it was lush I have to say – and less than 10 euro too.  The wind was blowing a hooligan there too – I forgot just how windy this place can be.  I am considering wandering up to the Drom later but I think that is probably just misplaced nostalgia – I am expecting to bump into the old crowd, Gentleman Jim, Mental Mila, Zeni and others but something tells me that just won’t happen.

Popped into Uwe’s workshop today on the way to see Frannie and Max.  He had a long board there with some colours that reminded me of melting Vanilla ice-cream with strawberries in it.  Sadly it was already spoken for otherwise I would have had it but I did challenge him to make another one that has a full bottom paint in the vanilla and strawberry design.  I have to say though – I think that one would end up on the wall in Belgium rather than coated with wax and grunting up the beach. It was lush – I want one – my first Kluba

Expect more of the same tomorrow, I may venture to Amado in search of a tidier wave – we will see.




Dancing with the Devil on your back

Free at last!

The summer is mine, but not without some last minute observations.  Another latin country and another set of rules ( or lack of them). I was trying out the new easyjet electronic boarding pass system to my mobile phone when I realised that Olbia was not on their list of airports that would accept it.  Expecting to get hammered at the check in, I found a place in the airport that offers office support and they printed the pass for me and charged me just 20 cents for the privilege.  Nice start to the trip.

Next up, Italian pilots.  For years we have heard how bad their driving is but as the plane was taxiing out to the runway, the first officer suddenly jammed on his brakes.  Turns out he was heading to the wrong end of the runway to take off – I always kind of expected pilots to know where they were going.  A quick thrust from the starboard engine and we were heading in the correct direction. I have to give this guy his dues though, the landing at Milan was superbly gentle.

The next morning, I was given the full Italian experience. An airport full of them! Bling and chav’d up to the eyeballs, in fact, dressed like that in England, you would have swore they were pikeys but the best was yet to come.

On the plane, I got my exit seat when a couple of blinged up high society older generation Italian came walking along the aisle.  Now my Italian is not perfect but as the bird got a couple of rows away from me, she was calling to the Steward that I was in her seat.  Obviously she was wrong and her husband promptly corrected her but it lead me into some thoughts about the class system.

Here were two, what I am assuming were upper class old Italians, dressed to the nines, her with more Jewelry than Liberace, it was dripping off her.  In my mind, very poor taste but from what I had seen of Milan airport, it was the norm to look like a pikey.  What then ensued was a flurry of class leveling experiences.

Firstly, you are on easyjet love, no matter how much money your old man has, you are going to be cattle herded just like the rest of us.  No first class here – the best you can manage to show your opulent wealth is paying for an extra leg room seat when your feet hardly touch the floor.

Nº 2 on my class levelling list – no matter how much money you have, the bling dripping off you cannot – I repeat – cannot cover up for the smell of stale piss if you haven’t washed for a couple of day.  B.O. knows no class boundaries – you stink.

Lastly – and this one made me chuckle the most – when on a plane and the person next to you farts – you have to breathe it in just like everyone else.  I figured that I had to deal with her smell for the next hour and a half, she could have a bit of mine.

All classes were finally equal.

But for now, back in Mallorca and resting for a couple of days before the first of several road trips planned for this summer.  8am on Sunday morning I am on the fast ferry to the mainland and then a 10 hour drive to Portugal for a week of surfing, mountain biking, scuba diving, running and walking.  I have the car for the job and will thoroughly enjoy the space and solitude of being completely on my own for the first time in a year.  living on a yacht has its benefits but by christ, you can never find your own space to just be alone.

More inspirational observations soon – I promise

As Florence once said – It’s hard to dance with the devil on your back

Damage Destructor

It’s almost time – tomorrow is my last day aboard the good ship Timoneer – all I have to do now is argue with the Captain to get the cab fare to the airport as part of my repatriation.

I am excited to be taking the summer off again of course, and most of all, I think I am looking forward to being able to run cross country.  The rugged countryside of Cape St Vincente in Portugal is my first stop, then an old favourite, The Belgian Forest close to the house and then of course, the English bridalways in full bloom.  I am just so bloody bored of running roads and pavement now, but first I have a short stop in Mallorca again until 8am on Sunday morning when I get on the fast ferry via Ibiza and onto Denia.

So you might think that having the summer off would be relaxing and slow paced but already I am booked up until 27th August with a diary full of stuff to do. Not much time to spare, but of course I will be enjoying the Rangie in all its left hand drive glory.  Cannock Chase is on the cards with Mr.B on 7th July, a trip to St Petersburg and Moscow at the end of July, Scuba Instructor exams in August in the very tasteful resort of Benidorm on the Costa Del Sol – I am something of a Jet Set playboy it would seem.

I am also toying with the idea that if I don’t find something I like workwise for September, maybe I should invest in a Gas Turbine course in the states – a little bit of personal progression.

So for now, one more day to survive then a squeezy jet plane out to Milan tomorrow evening and onto Palma the next day.

Expect a summer of more enthralling blogging, video making and piracy on the high seas.

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