Monthly Archives: November 2013

I change the key form C to D you see to me its just a minor thing……

Most probably the longest title I have ever used, and that statement reminds me of the great Eddie Vedder introducing his song ‘Elderly woman behind the counter in a small town’.  Not that I am comparing my greatness to Mr Vedder but I am curious as to why, in the last 3 days I have had 79 hits form Cyprus to my humble site.

Also had some from Canada and the States too.

So how is Italy? Something of a cluster fuck if I am honest.  The Italian mentality is to flatly deny anything is wrong, and when it is wrong, if you delay long enough – maybe, just maybe the problem will go away on its own.  Now, call me stupid but I have never had a problem go away on its own.  To make matters worse, the boat is italian built so has a shit load of problems.  On top of that, the guy I took over from really hasn’t done much at all, documented even less and I honestly think that he doesn’t intend to return either – he was very keen to leave me his gate pass when he left.

But lets not dwell on that – on Saturday I took Dion the first officer out for a cycle ride.  It was one of those rides where your legs are cramping on the way back and every little hill feels like a mountain.  46 miles and over 8000 feet of climbing later, we got back to the boat.  I say we, I mean I got back here first, had a shower and a coffee, got a little concerned that Dion wasn’t back and headed out to find him.  Thankfully, all was well.  Genoa to Portofino return in just over 4 hours and 17 minutes

So what next – now I have just 4 working weeks left until I break for christmas, Friday 20th December I will jump in my car and head back to Brussels, a short stop for xbox, belgian beer and a run in the woods before I hot foot it to Florida for some winter sunshine courtesy of Virgin Airlines and then head back to Belgium for a week more of xbox, beer and running.

What I am really holding out for – is the end of January when I get February and March off with pay………..and that saddens me.  There used to be a time where I lived and breathed responsibility of keeping a boat alive but now I feel that is slipping and I may be turning into an also ran.

 

 

I don’t want to be an also ran


In the arse end of nowhere

I had a new Italian teacher last night, so that makes a total of two in two lessons.  Not that I am scaring them off but I have since figured out that it is one teacher for language, another teacher for hand gestures.

That aside, I also figured something else out today.  This morning over breakfast, I treated myself to a little Amy Winehouse from her time on Jools Holland.  Way back in 2004, she was quite sweet and innocent, tattoo free and a fuller figure – her voice, purely magical.  A couple of songs later and the year was 2006,  the tattoos started to appear, the weight dropping, that glazed unfocused stare and of course in the background the worthless shite of a boyfriend.

Then over lunch, I happened across a BeeGees in concert movie so I stuck that on and we got to talking about the two brothers that had died.  It then hit me – you can tell how old you are by how many dead artists you have in your music library. I bet everyone has a bit of Lou Reed right? Jimmi Hendrix, Beatles, Nirvana, Joplin, Marley,Presley,Bolan, Beastie Boys, Barry White,  they very quickly add up. I would like to tell you now just how many dead artists are in my library but fear of knowing the true figure stops me counting.

Of course, it got me thinking about Winehouse. Being a hard arse, I have little sympathy for her way of life but I do fully appreciate the staggering loss of talent when she departed. I also remember when Cobain decided to take his head off with a shot gun, I never understood why. I am sure that will remain eternally unanswered but then one night many years ago while in bed in Abbey Street I was listening to Radio 1, before it got shite.  Back in the day (at 44, I am old enough to use that phrase, not like some of the spotty teens on the streets)   the evening was filled with Bob Harris (deceased) Nicky Campbell and of course the late and very very great John Peel.  Peel was hosting a show on Cobain and finished off with words along the line of feeling like he could have helped, invited him into his house to be looked after and helped through their problems – and I can’t help but think Peel was right, better still, there are many of us that would have volunteered our services to help to keep such talent alive.

But enough of that crap

Lets talk about my friend Rupert – or ‘Poopie Pants’ as he is known in Portugal.  During a recent stay in England, I talked Poopie into doing the Park Run with me on saturday morning (thank you Horley for the tip off).  For those of you unfamiliar with the Park Run, it is a weekly event ran by volunteers across the UK and 7 other countries (including S.A. Lexa) where you can run a 5k track, be timed and have your times analysed and compared by world record times, age, sex etc.   While out on a run on the prior wednesday evening, I was accompanied by the aforementioned Poopie and as we got talking I suggested he do the Parkrun with me on Saturday.  He actually agreed, I was agast and he was regretful almost instantly.  Building up to the saturday, he started to look grumpy about doing it but I kept pushing him until at 9am on an autumnal Saturday morning, the flag was dropped and we were off.  My previous 3 runs had all been personal bests and I knew I would be pushing it if I were to to another.

I never of course, I posted my slowest time ever of 23:53 but was very impressed to see Poopie coming in around 1:15 seconds behind me as a first attempt.  Now I have to admit at the time it was a bit of an eye opener.  I run a lot and I was aware that I need to pick up my pace but seeing this fucker post a time like this with a complete lack of training gave me a kick in the nuts that I needed. I did take some comfort in the fact that despite all of his moaning and groaning about not being a competitive person before the event, he did actually really enjoy it.

Since then, I can see his Runkeeper times are very respectable and I have no doubt that Poopie will be busting his nuts to get a better time than me next time we go, so I am upping the ante and have pegged a 7km course here in Genoa to ‘train’ on for my next 5k.  First time out tonight was under 35 minutes with mild poo cramps toward the end but expect that time to tumble as I naturally get quicker and time my toilet drops to perfection


Young Teen Clunge

selling out?   Me ?  Never, but young teen clunge does attract plenty of traffic to my page, as does ‘Scandinavian beauties’ so lets see what happens in the next couple of days.

I just had a historical read of an old posting from 2008 about Facebook.  Funny how time passes but even back then in 2008 I was ranting about closing the account.  Glad I did too.

I would like to mention the Cooper clan again.  I know the girls are regular readers but now I am proud to announce the parents are also reading too – welcome Mon and John although I wonder if it is just Mr. C that pops in to see whats going on.  Talking of subscriptions, whatever happened to Thornham in Oz and Timothy in S.A. ? Are you ladies still reading?  Better still, closer to home, McCoy (I forget your wedded name).

Now firmly planted in Genoa, I enrolled in Italian language lessons starting next week.  I met the teacher last night, she has a huge pair of tits, unfortunately for her, they are already down by her belly button and I doubt she is 40.  More intriguing than the southerly chest was the gruff, beyond husky voice.  Kind of left me wondering if those huge swinging orbs had more hair on them than my chest but then that wouldn’t be hard now would it? I wonder if she has ever stepped on one of her nipples ?  So my lessons start on Monday and I have already started practising the hand gestures and over pronunciation of the few words of Italian that I already know. Expect me to be more dramatic next time you see me and a less skillful driver – unless of course I am driving a boat near to a small Italian island.

I also contacted the dive school in Rugby about finally taking my instructor exams.  They asked if I had completed the dry suit specialist course as the water at Stoney Cove in February would be around 4ºC.  I did explain that I could always go to the Caribbean and do it there.  Who on earth wants to go diving in 4º water when I am used to mid to late 20’s?

I do want to tempt fate for a moment here – all the ‘negativos’ that talk about how unreliable and crap Range Rovers are – I love my car.  We have now covered 18,000kms without fault.  Of course I lie there, I had to change a side light bulb before leaving Brussels – I am not really counting that in the J.D. Powers customer satisfaction survey.  It is especially lush when it comes to triggering speed cameras, either I am going too fast or the cameras also like the look of the car and want pictures.  A camera in Switzerland recently took a photo of me from the front and the rear – that was very confusing for a moment until I realised what had happened.

Tomorrow, I am hitting the hills of Genoa on my bike.  I have found nothing on line about specific tracks to ride so have had a look at maps and will head out with no particular intention and see what mischief I can get up to.  For those with Runkeeper, be sure to take  look.

 

Until then – I am available for abuse exclusively on my UK phone number

 

 

 


%d bloggers like this: