Author Archives: hairygoose

13/10/2013

Keep your little battifarra in your pants !

By hairygoose

Where the hell have I been?

Frankly I am not sure.  Most recently, I sailed on one of the largest sailing yachts in the world, the Maltese Falcon to help deliver from Monaco to Athens.  I often wondered what this big bastard might sail like and I was surprised, it sailed well, although not hands on enough for my taste. www.symaltesefalcon.com

Then last week, I drove down to the South of France for a few days of interviews and dock walking. I had 3 interviews, all of which I thought would be good jobs, so good in fact that I actually took my bike and dive gear in the back of the car expecting to leave them on a boat as I had accepted their offers but as it turns out, I didn’t want any of the jobs.  1 of them, a 47 metre motor yacht ( I know – the dark side) was going to the Maldives and Seychelles for the winter which I really fancied.  Fortunately, when I met the outgoing engineer, I knew him, and he told me that the boat spends nearly all of its time at anchor and never goes to the dock – that for me was a no-no so I disappointed the captain the very next morning.

Nº 2 was equally weird, a South of France based boat paying strong money that sub contract all of the engineer work.  When I asked the captain what the engineer actually does, he couldn’t tell me anything.  Now call me old-fashioned but if I am being paid well, I expect to work for it, not sit around bored, twiddling my thumbs.

Nº 3 was an old shitter that I knew of from Mallorca, a Turkish built boat that was extended by 3 metres in the Spanish yard and took 3 years to complete.  The engineer on board didn’t know he was leaving but I wanted to see on board before making any committment.  The captain couldn’t arrange this though so I drew a blank straight away.

After finishing in France, I thought I would drive across to Italy and hit San Remo, Imperia and then Genoa – all proved fruitless on the face of it but who knows what might come of the visit in the future.

So now, I am sitting in Charleroi Airport in Belgium waiting to fly to Mallorca for a few days.  I am seeing a boat in the morning called Andromeda la Dea before flying to Valencia on Tuesday evening to meet an old gaff rigged schooner called Adix.  For the sailors among you, the gaff rig is a real hard-core sailing boat – you can take a look at the link below – it is a thing of beauty under full sail though, even I have to admit that.

http://www.charterworld.com/index.html?sub=yacht-charter&charter=adix-2130

Their summer programme for next year includes a circumnavigation of the UK, very exciting but also very chilly.

Driving up through Switzerland on the way from Genoa to Brussels is always a treat.  The temperature dropped to 3ºc at the entrance to the Gottard tunnel, increased to 26ºc in the middle of this 10 mile long tube and then at the exit, snow – it was epic.

I also managed to trigger 2 speed cameras in Switzerland, over there they flash red, then another just over the border in France.  My car was running so smoothly that I had to call Rue to see if his was as smooth as mine – it certainly was.  Just as I was explaining the 3 cameras that had caught me and we were both having a chuckle – FLASH! camera Nº 4 got me too.  Right now, I am thanking the Lord of Gatso that the UK currently has a non disclosure pact with the rest of europe – imagine, that could have been bye-bye licence all in one trip.

So now, Charleroi Airport and the tiresome wait for Ryanair.

I did notice a heavier than normal presence of the ‘Moron Shuffle’.  That walk in the airport where people with unfeasibly large bags, shuffle their feet at half a mile an hour with their jaw agape, blissfully unaware that other people exist or are trying to get around them.  They change direction or stop dead without thought for the carnage that they cause behind them, their fat bags tangling with everyone elses until they eventually decide to stop dead in the middle of the entrance to the passport check – not unsimilar to the Congo myth of Mokele Mbembe or roughly translated ‘one that blocks rivers’ these selfish mother fuckers can think only of themselves and see as far ahead as the end of their nose.

I wonder if the Belgians actually have on their national curriculum a lesson on anti spacial awareness and anti social behavioural techniques

Fuckwits – all of them

Anyway – an hour until lift off – I need to poo

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17/09/2013

Lip up Fatty !

By hairygoose

The lesson today is aimed at the travellers amongst you.  Not particularly the seasoned travellers, although I fear it may apply to some, this lesson is intended to help those less experienced travellers.  Let the lesson begin.

The Baggage Reclaim Belt

Great thought and planning has been put into the design and placement of these wonders of modern science.  They invisibly transport your luggage from the plane you just got off, right up to your luggage trolley and sweaty grubby hands so that you can trot off into the sunset sipping your piña coladas.

The belt amazingly goes all the way around in a giant circle, this is not a design floor but a little something the engineers thought of to help you.  This is especially reassuring if you should miss your bag as it passes you at a sedate 1 mph.  Maybe you are in the toilet, getting a coffee or just slower than others to the belt but rest assured, when you get to the belt, your bag will be lovingly waiting for you

The speed of the belt has been carefully calculated to allow people of all abilities the time to approach, lift off the bag and step away from the belt, it’s so simple even children can do it and quite often do.

Those health and safety conscious engineers also designed a ‘safe zone’ around the belt, a safe distance to keep children or loose clothing from getting caught up in the moving belt.  This safe zone, usually denoted but a big thick line on the floor (yellow is the norm) also doubles as an optimum viewing point, where people can gather and all have a spectacular view of the belt and its approaching contents.

To be sure that the belt doesn’t unexpectedly trap anyone, prior to its starting, it has a very loud audible alarm and normally a flashing warning light (usually yellow just like the safe zone line).

The engineers intention was to provide a simple safe quick means of re-uniting you and several hundred other travellers with your luggage all at the same time

But they forgot to allow for the fuckwit factor

Etiquette at the belt

Do stay behind the safety line at all other times except when you step forward to grab your bag.  Do not induce a mass pile on at the edge of the conveyor.

When you think you have eyeballed your bag, grab it and step bag with it to read the tag. Do not try to read the tag while the bag is still on the belt, you will end up on the top of the pile of muppets who are all standing on the wrong side of the yellow line as the bag drags you around the carousel.

If you are a little older, stay out of the scrum, this will make life generally much easier for you, give you more time to react, while adjusting your glasses to read the label without taking the bag off the belt and you will not cause carnage for everyone else.

DO NOT – step in front of someone who is waiting behind the safety line unless your bag is getting close to you, certainly do not step in front of someone else before the belt has even started.  I had always assumed that this was a given but it appears not.

Really DO NOT – step in front of me as I wait patiently behind the line, then try to grab the worlds two biggest cases and put them down on my toes.  I will not move for you nor offer you any assistance with your colossal load of shite – you packed it, you carry it, they are my rules.

Trolleys – keep them behind the line too, give yourself some space as you wade through the other bodies with your load, put it on your trolley carefully so that you don’t spin your trolley off in some random direction running down pensioners along the way

Remember – that belt goes all the way round and comes back to where you are standing, if, while man handling your first sack of shite to your trolley, you realise your second bag is already upon you – LET IT GO…..IT WILL COME AROUND AGAIN!  The rumour that if it goes around twice, the bomb disposal squad will take it and check it out with a ‘controlled’ explosion is simply not true.  Do not chase it, trolley in one hand with the first bag only half on, occasionally stretching out for the second bag on the belt trying to pull it off as it snags the solid edge of the belt and begins a bag like pile up that the M25 in rush hour would be proud of – you look like a demented retard and everyone quite rightly thinks you are just a little bit of a cunt.  If you really are so much more important than everyone else at the reclaim and you absolutely have to be the first in the next queue that awaits you as it awaits all of us, walk the other way around.  It’s always easier, usually the same way to the exit and by the time you see your bag again, the belt will be human clutter free as they are all bunched up at the delivery chute where your bag first joined the belt.

Parents – If you choose to leave your kids unattended and they do find their way to the belt, only to sit on it when it starts, you should be aware that if a child circumnavigates the belt twice without anyone taking it, the bomb disposal squad will remove the child and make it safe with a ‘controlled’ explosion – now that seems perfectly reasonable to me.

If this is all a bit too much for you, there is still hope – hand luggage only is an option, as is not flying at all.

Next week – tune in again for arrivals hall etiquette – ‘fuck everyone else behind me, I am stopping right here’.

Let me finish with something I read today.  On the BBC website they had quoted about the shooting in America at the US Navy building.  The BBC are suggesting that ‘ The US gunman had mental health issues’! – Really? Thanks for alerting me to that fact.  When did the media dumb down so much?  It reminds me of the other year while watching a weather forecast (not the BBC) the presenter said ‘ there is a 50% chance that this summer will be better than last summer’. Sharp that girl was, her university education certainly improved her !

And the Costa Concordia is upright again.  This Italian built vessel, built to Italian code, with an Italian Captain and sailing in Italian waters that ran into an Italian island whilst flying an Italian flag is reported to be going back to Italy to be scrapped – has anyone else spotted the common theme here?

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14/09/2013

Aren’t you the lucky one ?

By hairygoose

You may not have realised that this week alone, you have all survived a September the 11th and also a Friday the 13th – well done to you if you made it unscathed.

My trauma is all mental.  I am currently in the South of France on a boat.  They are not letting me do any work because there are guests on, but, legal requirements mean they must have an engineer aboard with my qualifications so I am almost getting paid for doing nothing.  Of course, there are the daily checks in the morning but this takes less than an hour.  I have also helped the other guys with their security watches as it does get bloody boring standing out there all day long, but apart from that, I am doing sod all.

I know what you are thinking, ‘listen to him complaining about getting paid for nothing’ but it is boring and I really don’t do ‘bored’ very well at all, and to think I could have been in Cornwall catching my first Cornish wave since 2004 with poopy pants Yates !

I also got to thinking back to school discos from middle school.  I was out running the other night when Bad Manners’ Sally Brown came on randomly.  Ska has just the right beat for putting a spring in your step.  Anyway, Bad Manners, remember the singer,  a big fat skin head fella called ‘Busta Bloodvessel’, always used to wear Doc Marten boots.  Now, back at middle school, Bad Manners realeased a cover of the ‘Can Can’ and back then, we used to form a circle to do the Can Can.  Eventually it digressed into a tight circle where effectively we were just trying to kick the shit out of each other – strangely, the teachers never intervened! This then became known as ‘Doc’ing’ or ‘giving someone a good doc’ing’ because you were kicking them with your Docs, whether they were monsterous 18 holers or simply the more formal Doc shoes.

Something else I heard the other day on tv – ‘bricking it’.  When you were so scared that you could shit bricks and maybe even build a wall with them, you were considered to be ‘bricking it’.  The implication was, when absolutely petrified, you could shit enough bricks and build a wall of protection – much like Batfink and his wings of steel.

Sometimes my mind wanders

 

 

You cannot harm me – my wings are like a shieeeeeld of steel

 

 

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18/08/2013

I’m Spazticus

By hairygoose

lets not forget, that without fail, whenever I am road tripping and there is a car so close behind that I can’t see the number plate it always turns out to be Belgian.  I have tried to figure out why the Belgians always drive like complete cunts and the only reason I can think of is that someone told them the Germans were coming again and they are trying to get out of the country before the Bosch arrive.

I also want to have a little rant about the English too – more precisely two sloth like employees of Johnson’s Cleaners on Clifton Road. I was looking for someone to replace a zip on my travel bag and originally was hunting for the old sewing shop on Albert Street but it looks like that is long gone and been replaced with a stottie shop.  I tried Johnson’s as a last resort, took the bag in and asked if they could fit a new zip.  The first girl I spoke with was actually quite pleasant and referred me to the two sloths in the corner.  This is where my problem began.  Clearly I had interrupted one of their many ‘chin wag’ breaks throughout the day – imagine, the inconvenience of a customer needing assistance !  I showed the bag and explained that I didn’t want to buy a new bag just yet and could they fit a new zip.

Oh no – she said, my sewing machine won’t sew around the corners where the zip turns.  To say that I was a little bemused by this would of course be an understatement.  My mind was already thinking about the old fashioned way of stitching, BY HAND!.  I had a back up plan though – I asked if she could simply stitch the zip closed so that I could keep using the bag.  The younger of the sloths, slightly more slug like in demeanour very quickly quipped ‘ the material is too tough, we won’t be able to get our needles through it’

It was at this point that I really wanted to drop my pants and coil a big steamer on their desk.  Naturally, being a gentleman, I just pointed out that I, yes me, a man, had managed to make temporary stitching repairs to the very same zip with a sewing kit I found in a Russian Hotel room without any problems or specialist equipment but her only response was to to repeat herself again, the material is too tough for what I would assume will be their professional seamstress equipment. Now, call me old fashioned again ( I am sure you will) but women will never be equal in my mind when a man is better at sewing than they are – after all, it is womans work isn’t it.

The only saving grace for my little trip was that they suggested I try the cobblers behind the Squirrel.  My bag is there now being repaired, in fact the female cobbler reckons she may even be able to get the original zip working again but if all else fails, she will stitch the pocket up for me.  RESULT

More of a milestone, yesterday I competed in my first Park Run.  For those not in the know, Park Run is a volunteer operated 5 kilometer weekly race which happens in public parks across the country every saturday morning.  It is timed and posted on the internet so you can see how you compare to others and of course how you are improving.  I was a little nervous at first, not at the distance, I can run 3 times that, but just the fact that there must have been 300 people there and this would be my first time running competitively. Officially it is not a race, unofficially, everyone is racing, regardless of age or ability.  I have to admit, it was quite a buzz.  At the start, I stayed probably two thirds of the way toward the back of the pack, strategically I thought that’s where I fitted based on my judgement of those around me.  It was a gaggle and tricky not to be treading on other people’s feet, the first two corners were more of a mess really but then I started to find my pace and slowly started passing people.  I kept telling myself not to get dragged into running too hard too soon and it worked.  By the end of the first lap, I had settled into a good pace and the field had opened up nicely to give me more room to run without shoulders bashing or ankle kicking.  I crossed the finish line in 23′ 44′ which I was impressed with.  Certainly I had lost time at the start to slower runners in front of me but that time was still a new PB for me.  It is around a minute quicker than the 5k I did on a flat running machine in Moscow but also 3 minutes quicker than my 5k route in Belgium that I have been running in preparation. So I am happy.  I have two more weekends in blighty this month so I am planning two more.  Next weekend I may head for Royal Leamington Spa, before returning to Coventry for a last spurt.  For my efforts, I finished 89th out of 316 people with the oldest runner being in their 70’s and the youngest just 14.

http://www.parkrun.org.uk/coventry/results/latestresults/

I am finding it a little weird today, the weekend and I am sitting in Rugby with both of my biking playmates out on holiday.  Steve and Nic are back in Africa on safari and Rue and Claire are in Turkey.  Last night I went into town with Sex Pest. It is startlingly clear that over the last few months, I have turned.  Into what is your question.  Into a grumpy old twat would be my simple reply. I am at the stage in my life where I look at the youth of today and really find their outlook boring, their conversations mindless and their strive to look like and sound like chavs, exasperating.  Maybe it happened a long time ago but certainly over the last couple of months I have noticed it more.  I also caught a classic episode of One Foot in the Algarve this morning, and it did leave me wondering if I am going to become a real life Victor Meldrew.

But before I sign off, there is light at the end of the tunnel.  A new series called ´I’m Spazticus`courtesy of channel 4 that I caught on Thursday night.  The politically correct brigade will be hot on the heels of this programme so be sure to watch it before it is gone for good.  The next showing is on Channel 4, Wednesday night at 10:50.

More Soon

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29/07/2013

Car Alarms !!

By hairygoose

Here am I, sitting on the 17th Floor in Moscow, trying desperately to get some blogging done and all I can hear is a damn car alarm ringing constantly.  I am surprised that no-one has blown that car up yet.

Let me tell you a little about my trip to Moscow.  Yesterday we headed to Red Square, Revolution Square, The Kremlin and the Pushkin Museum.  I am now successfully navigating the Moscow underground.  Red Square was an experience, especially when I had to pay almost 12 quid for two coffees.  It’s all about location I guess.

We also took a look in Lenin’s mausoleum.  For those that don’t know that word, it is a place that holds a dead body so that people can visit it.  In all honesty, we were lucky to get in at all, the very last trip of the day as they closed the gates behind us.  No cameras or phones allowed, no talking inside and no hands in pockets either.  Now being honest, the guy has been dead a few years, whats to say that in there, is simply not a wax working of the old fella?  A huge conspiracy I know.  I was left wondering though, where was George Harrison’s body and would Paul and Ringo be placed there when they are gone?

Red Square is smaller than I thought it would be. Generally, it is bigger than Rugby Cattle Market used to be but not by much.  I was remembering that young german fella in the late 80’s called Herr Rust who tried to land a Cessna there.  There was not a lot of room and at the southern end there are tons of overhead electric cables for the trolley buses so he did a damn stirling job of getting it down there at all.  Word on the street was he made three low passes over Red Square to try to get the people to move but they didn’t get the message, so he had to land at the bridge at the southern end.  Thankfully, earlier that morning , the overhead cables had been removed for maintenance.

There are still a few old school Ladas kicking around too although the wealth here is obvious (probably all coffee shop owners on Red Square is my first thought). Rolls, Bentley, BMW, Mercedes and the rest of it, and some very bling shops now adorn the shopping centre at the side of Red Square.  I try to imagine how the pre-perestroika generation view the changes that the country has seen.  I quizzed one of the locals over lunch on Sunday.  Imagine a country where you can only buy locally produced goods – people that are lucky enough to have a car drive a Lada as a luxury and everyone eats cabbage. None of the big names that you see now in the streets were allowed, no McDonald’s, Dior, Mercedes, Gucci – none of them, but now, just a generation later, the place is overflowing with them.  Think back to England in the late 80’s – imagine if all you were allowed to drive was an Austin Allegro and there was a two year wait for it, and when you got it, you were considered privileged!!

I had the sheer pleasure yesterday of watching a guy on an R6 do a stand up wheelie the full length of the road that runs alongside the Kremlin – it was faultless and perfectly controlled.  Unfortunately I was so in awe that I neglected to pull my camera off my neck and get some shots.  I can only imagine the size of the grin on that dudes face as he put it down for the corner at the top of the road.

Today I also managed to find an old Russian Army coat that fits me.  Which rank ?  A General of course.  There was an Admiral’s coat that fitted too but it was black and I wasn’t so keen – he also wanted 20,000 rubles for it which is about 400 quid.  The generals coat I got for 14000 down from 17.  A big thick long trench coat that should outlive me I think. I am sure I could have found one at the market cheaper but I only found out about that market late on Sunday evening and it is only open on Saturday and Sunday.

I have also gone to the extreme lengths of uploading some photos.  Extreme because I had to buy another 10GB of space to host them, so I also plumped for the video upgrade too as it came out cheaper and now officially add free, so take a look at ‘Russia 2013’.

Back to Brussels tomorrow via Poland and a 6 hour lay over in Warsaw in an airport that has the least services in their lounges that I have ever seen.  Russia has been blissfully chilly and a welcome break from the monotony of the European heat wave.  I also recently made a video for Steve O that will now be uploaded directly to this site instead of a link to external nonsense.  A brisk trip through part of the Brussels forest that should tempt his adventure taste buds.

 

 

 

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25/07/2013

In the Mother Land, Comrade

By hairygoose

Crikey O’Reily – it’s been a while since I last posted – I blame a lack of inspiration but I am slowly getting my mojo back.

Before I get into my swing, I would like to congratulate Amy Winehouse for being drug and drink free for two years now – well done Amy !

For those that don’t know, I am currently frequenting the ‘Mother Land’ of St Petersburg (that’s Leningrad for you oldies, or even Petrograd for you very old oldies, or better still St Petersburg for you readers that were around before WWI) and heading for Moscow on the overnight train tomorrow evening.  I am already thinking that I would like to spend more time here as I went for a wander around the city today after sending the bird out to work to earn some dollar, like the pimpernel that I am.

For the gamers amongst you, well that will be Steve, I took the tube today.  The escalator down into the depths had a very communist feel about it.  I know you want me to explain.  It was the stereotypical scene that we have seen in movies for years, but if you are a gamer, you no doubt would have played ‘Call of Duty’ at some point in your life, better still, the ‘World at War’ version.  As I dropped downward on the escalator, I fell into silence.  Silence of course apart from the solid sounding rumble of the escalator punctuated by the sound of someone speaking over the tannoy system.  The tannoy speakers were placed between the opposing  escalators and facing upward to the roof of the tube tunnel that the escalators ran through as they drop hundreds of feet down.  This gave it a clarity that was almost set in stone.  The people coming up, had expressionless faces, much like that of the tube in London.  Maybe all countries have the same effect on you when it comes to tube travel – you have to have a tube face, a bit like a poker face perhaps?

Anyway, it was just like playing a scene from Call of Duty, as I froze on the escalator.  My mind wandered of course, you would expect that.  I was thinking back to the Cold War Era and I could easily feel the potential this place would have had at suppressing an uprising to move away from communism.  I imagined, if I was a spy, planted deeply behind enemy lines here in Leningrad, how I would simply be shitting my pants purely because of this escalator ride.  The sombre silence of it, the drum and drone of the escalator, not too loud but powerful in its drone – left you with the impression that it could carry a tank up it should the mother land require, while the tannoy speakers pumped out continual communist propaganda.

I was also in awe of the amount of monuments, statues and generally spectacular buildings and that got me thinking too.  I guess, when you want a propaganda machine that keeps your people all pulling together, making them remember previous historic battles with thousands of magnificent works is a damn good way to do it.  I also got to thinking that if there were another call to arms of the likes of WWI and WWII, I am left with little doubt that Russia could easily muster another army of equivalent size or larger, whilst the UK and America would have more conscientious objectors than volunteers – because of course, if you are English or American, your country owes you something and you shouldn’t have to work for it, or god forbid, risk your life for it.

Still on a war theme, tomorrow I am going to the war museum.  Our guide drove us past it last night and I just have to get a photo of me with the mobile missile launcher.  I took a look at an old war ship from the turn of the 20th century today, a ship called Aurora.  Quite important if you are Russian but unfortunately for me, none of the scripts had been translated into English so I couldn’t absorb the history. Anyway, for something that was around in 1903 – it was a scary arsed piece of weaponry even if I couldn’t understand what they were waffling about.

I have also been looking for a vintage Russian Infantry Coat complete with emblems, lapels and pins etc.  No joy here, only new ones to be had but I am told Moscow is the place to find those. I did try on some genuine 1997 Russian Navy hats but they were just a tad too small.

Getting toward the end now – let me thank Horley for her inspirational tip-off of a web site called Park Run.  I am now officially training for my first race, at the ripe old age of 43.  The next Saturday morning that I am in England, I will be very competitive as I burst onto the amateur running scene in all my glory.  I am registered and ready to go.

I also need to say nah nah nah nah nah to Susan.  I am certain she will be jealous that I am visiting Russia, because I know it is on her to do list.

I also heard today that my replacement engineer on Timoneer has also quit, he didn’t even make 2 months FFS !!

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17/06/2013

NOT if you are half Possum

By hairygoose

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.

 

 

 

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14/06/2013

Dancing with the Devil on your back

By hairygoose

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

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11/06/2013

Damage Destructor

By hairygoose

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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25/05/2013

Young Teen Clunge

By hairygoose

A strange search string to use to reach my site but this week, someone did actually land on these hallowed pages with the above search.

It was also the week that my sister, after some 8 years of me blogging, finally subscribed to my site.

I am now left wondering if there is a connection between the two?

 

Enough of that – let me blog…….

 

Sardinia is cold wet and windy.  We got a gold old fashioned kicking when we left Palma for Olbia, but then what should you expect when you leave port and the forecast is a Mistral? Every other boat crew were shaking their heads when we told them we were in fact going to sea.  The boat has been reacting very negatively to me leaving.  On the day we left port, no less than 4 failures, and pretty much one every day since we have been here.  it is making it much easier for me to walk away guilt free.

So guilt free in fact that I am now planning to take a couple of months off.  Back to Mallorca for a couple of days when I leave the boat on the 12th, then, and I can hardly believe I am saying this – back to Portugal for a week of surf and head straightening before hot footing it all the way to Brussels for a week there, running and riding through the forest on the cards!

July will see me in England for a few weeks before a trip to Russia, yes Russia at the end of July.  August is all mine so far, and I am toying with the idea of a coastal drive in the UK with my surf boards to see what’s about.

I also hope I can entangle Mr. Brown in another trip to Cannock Chase.

That will do for now – because, to be quite honest with you – I need a poo !

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