It Ended Badly
Beez Neez now Chy Whella
Big Bear and Pepe Millard
Sun 5 Apr 2015 22:57
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A Productive Week That Ended
So, So Very Badly
   A sunny afternoon trip ashore saw
Baby Beez parked next to a little girl nearly full of
water, as I stood back to take the picture I once again had loathing for how the
chain and rope look so messy and when Bear drops the chain in the bottom, it
makes an awful ‘thunking’ noise. Home I went with a design in mind, any previous
ideas met with negativity from the skipper so I kept quite and began cantering
on my trusty steed. Next launch from her
side-dangling-overnight-hoisted-position-to-keep-her-bottom-clean, I hopped in
and fitted the new chain bag that can be opened and
closed to stay out of the way and vented at the bottom for no sogginess. Not
only did the captain oo and arr but suggested he add little clips so the side strings are neatened up. I’ll take that as praise
then. Bear shot off for bread and on his return told me that not only did the new
system work well for the chain but the tether rope as well and
it held the said loaf on the return journey.
  I, at this point pictured him driving
a Zimmer frame complete with front hanging shopping basket. Thank you very much........You’re welcome. Well I
could always compound the image by using the wonderful Reynolds cartoon of a certain sea captain............ Thanks again. No problem.
   We borrowed the marina insurance shop
car to go shopping, by way of a change and for the first time in four weeks I
found myself bimbling around our favourite Warehouse and then onto the
supermarket. Bear needed fuel for the generator and fill the diesel cans in
readiness for the last of their new jackets. As a treat I asked himself to
gather a few scoops of fresh green-lips – he came
back with a kilo bag. Later, I filled my big pan with water, added a goodly
squirting of lemon juice, salt and a smidging of horseradish. The skipper
settled to his feast with a chunk of French stick and the Butterly pot. As he
slavered through the stack of mussels he kept finding co-habiting lady crabs laden with eggs. They
add a lovely crunch. Oh my. Would you like
to try one. How many times in the past have I stated that I would
rather chew my way through my own flip-flops........... That’s a no then......... Don’t make me hurt
you.....
 I took my own
picture of the only blue-lip I had. Yes
dear......
 I looked through the window to admire
all the finished can covers and commented how some of
them needed a couple of pounds of sugar in their hems to coax them down. Mid
muttering and gnashing of teeth, himself went out and laboured over the
adjustments, well I do need Beez to show full smartness and a clean pair of
heels.........
 It was only February the eighth that
Maj of Scott-Free set a new Mexican train record of 728. Well one day this week
Bear smashed that effort with a hefty 772. The picture above shows me with just
one modest chap post tap. On the other side of the
table Bear was seen to be in possession of twenty two men. Cross as a wasp was I
when I couldn't finish and began collecting men – only to lose, gaining a
negative seventy five in the process.
  Shopping bag repaired, trouser pocket
fixed, I’m pleased to report that the sewing jobs are nearing an end. I felt the
need to dig out my supply of fluffy stuff and tart up my favourite big-ball
fender. Not a moment too soon, judging by the old one – it just goes to show how
the sun bleaches anything in her way. Your knicker
elastic as well by the sagginess of your Bridget Jones specials. Have you ever
seen anyone throw a yoghurt fixer with such angry force. Bear has.
I’m
just saying.
Run Bear, Run.
I thought you
wanted me to pose with the new
cover....... Why don’t the two of you go hang yourself from the left
side granny bar for the afternoon ???? I’ll just slip
along then. Good idea.
 My final job in the Zandra Rhodes
School of Design for Boat Covers was the Hydrovane and Beez
Sting jacket. Things in the table-cum-cockpit-edging-varnishing-line have
followed a nice pattern and each dry morning Bear has lightly sanded and I have
added a coat. The sixth and final coat happened this morning.
  I went out later this afternoon to
check on my finish, ready to call the skipper for final sign-off on a job well
done. SHOCK HORROR. I’d heard him scruffing about on deck. I had not heard him
removing the two wooden plates that when screwed together as a sandwich over the
back rails support the locked-to outboard engine when not in use. I had
forgotten that I had asked for their removal as they looked scruffy against the
shiny stuff. He appeared at my outward expletives. Not only had he not asked for
help, not only did he not use my trusty draining board mat as a protector to my
new varnish but he hadn’t fessed up..........But it only
happened fifteen minutes ago.......... Am I supposed to take that as
a lame apology. To add insult to injury he had sneaked a bit of varnish in the half inch gash. Steam started to rise from every hair
follicle I possess.........Mrs. Mallard left
the near vicinity.
ALL IN ALL I’M GOING TO BURY
MY VARNISH BRUSHES AT SEA
HOW DEEP HAVE I
SUNK......
I’m too bloody cross to answer
that |