Don’t Let Me Hear Any of You Saying Arrrr.......
I needed to slip to the loo this morning and as it was raining I grabbed the first jacket on the peg in the office. Slipping the camera in the pocket – following the motto never to leave home without it off I went. A grey morning with not a bird to be seen or heard. Camera and hands pushed down in pockets, something scrunched in the bottom of the right pocket.
I pulled the contents of the pocket – two butters and Mayonnaise. Now bear in mind that the last time Bear had this particular jacket on was on Mabel..............I worked out exactly where these bits came from and when he stowed them.............. 18th of August last year. Walking back toward Beez I found Bear under another boat chatting to her owner. When I showed said objects all Bear could say was he was ready for our next picnic. You scabby little boy. I’m not little. The other skipper was giggling and at this point admitted to “pulling a pair of waterproof trousers out of a seldom used cupboard, they shredded into many dusty pieces.” I looked from one man to the other clearly outnumbered. They both shrugged.
We walked down to Ashby’s dock and looked across the bay, we could see the clouds lower in the sky, quite a difference in the last hour. We heard a creaking and a dull banging and went to check on Mack Attack [the red boat], dig the brackets........ The back was protected by the wooden pile but the unfendered front was being crunched hard against the sick-dock pontoon. Bear decided we should walk up to the office and see if they could call the owner to warn him. I’ll come too, I said more brightly than the weather. Fine rain was falling. The ladies said they would phone the owner, handed Bear a small package, we bade them a good day and we bimbled back home. We could see the smaller boats all dancing in the wind. The rain grew heavier, we walked much quicker. Cater Marine, the other chandlery responsible for severely damaging the flexibility of our visa card was clearly doing brisk business, a man smiled as we complemented him on the massive fender he had under his arm, others had chunks of rope and all manner of things to secure boats of all sizes.
Look at my new bulbs, do you know....... Don’t call me Juno. Anyway, one of these little chaps was three pounds eighty, a hundred cost three pounds seventy three, a thousand was ten pounds ninety, so I bought a hundred. I think I was supposed to say wow or well done but I was still as cross as a wasp about the potentially septic butter and mayo. All I could muster was, how long do those little bulbs last ??? Oh they are guaranteed for one hundred thousand hours. My pitch went up to a resounding mezzo soprano – so you bought enough bulbs for one thousand, one hundred and forty point eight years........... I guess so. Thank the Lord they are only small at a defeated alto level.
This is not the first, I dare say not the last that the cleptoman I am married to, has secured this level of spares, or spares of spares in case the spare fails. No wonder you can’t get a blunt tack in your over stuffed shed. I think you are being a bit harsh. Oh says the man raising the waterline and anti-fouling up another few inches. That’s a foot since we’ve left the UK, so you keep telling me. Don’t you mouth me........ said in a low, menacing fashion.........
ALL IN ALL YOU WONDER WHY I GET CROSS WITH HIM
YES, BUT I AM PREPARED
I’LL GIVE YOU PREPARED
Have you ever seen anyone Frisbee a breadboard with such accuracy.
Run Bear, Run