Hello All, I was reflecting the other day on a couple of events in my dim past. I left school in 1952 when I was 15, (what use was school, get out and earn a quid) a decision I have regretted more than once in the last 50yrs, and one of my first jobs was cabin boy on an ocean going tug operating out of Grimsby, UK. I quickly found out that the title was extraneous and, what it really meant was general dogsbody! My main duty was to keep the galley fire going and brew tea at all hours when required, prepare bacon butties and fried eggs. The galley was my preserve and it certainly had advantages in the average Humberside winters which were usually bloody cold.
British railways operated two tugs out of Grimsby, Central No4 and Central No 3. No4 was an oil burner whilst 3, my boat, was coal fired. No4 was slighlty larger in the beam by a foot or so. Skipper Bell was in charge of No4 and Soapy in charge of No3. Now Soapy acquired his nickname owing to the fact that he had a cleanliness fetish not something that we knew about in those days, we just thought that he was mad. Every spare hour or so was spent "bull****ting' the boat, ( the mates description not mine) The only bloke who consistently got away with taking part was Johnny Flegg, the fireman, seems there was always something to fix in the boiler room.
Now among both crews there was some question marks over Soapy's ability as a Skipper and this was brought abruptly to our attention one day when we went out to attend to a Clan Line freighter. The Clan Line operated a lot of boats which were all named after Scots clans, Clan McDougall, Clan McTavish etc; The boats were, for the most part, between 6.000 and the 10,000 ton mark some slightly larger and some were refrigerated vessels carrying perishables. The day was bright and clear with a moderate swell in the mouth of the River Humber, and, in company with No4 we picked up the Clan Alpine about two nautical miles from the mouth. The Skippers would alternate between bow and stern ropes and today we were the stern boat. Bow rope was a fairly simple exercise, hitch up and proceed at around 5 to 8knots up the river, stern boat was slightly more involved as your main purpose was to stop the vessel swinging around and thus maintain a straight course down the channel.
No sooner had we hooked up when the wind increased from the North-East to some 10-20knots. For those who are not familiar with the geography, the river runs from West to East which meant that it was blowing almost directly into the starboard side of the towed boat, thus any 'swing' would be a lot more pronounced toward the Lincolnshire coast. We proceded for some time with our vessel nearly at right angles to the tow, such was the force exerted, then, for some reason Skipper Bell decreased his speed, thus causing the rope to slacken, for some inexplicable reason Soapy turned us to Port instead of Starboard and we ended up crossing our tow rope. This is an unforgivable error as, once that 12inch hemp wound around our propeller, we would be in great danger of being pulled under stern first with virtually no way to avoid it.
It was at this point that I found out what those two very large axes stowed near the wheelhouse were for. The mate, whose name sadly I can't remember, grabbed one of these axes the deckhand the other, and went to work on the towrope which they managed to sever with a couple of minutes to spare. Everything happened so quickly that I can't remember being scared, but I probably was!!! Soapy lost his boat but they gave him a desk job. The word bandied around was that a 12inch hemp rope was worth a thousand pounds, but I can't verify it.
Hope that I haven't bored everyone, I would love to hear if any of our Nomad 'Clan" have some story to tell of their past.
Ooh Roo,
Magnarc
-- Edited by Magnarc on Sunday 10th of March 2013 12:24:18 PM
-- Edited by Magnarc on Sunday 10th of March 2013 12:32:23 PM
Yuglamron said
03:23 PM Mar 10, 2013
Keep on reminiscing,it's great to hear of someone elses life and experiences.
One of mine.
I was with a friend running a small 22' timber boat as a safety boat in Plymouth UK in the early seventies. We were mainly there in case any of the steel riggers fell into the drink.
One day the tide was going out and a very large flounder was caught out on a mudbank. My skipper gave me the tiller and we nosed very slowly into the mudflat and Fred jumped out onto the mud to grab the flounder.
Big mistake.................. as he landed on the mud he just sank into it. By the time he stopped sinking he was up to his chest in mud.
He had on a pair of seaboots which were folded down.
Well it was hilarious for me watching his face as he sank into the mud until I realised how serious it was.
To cut a long story short it took around an hour to get him out by pouring water around him to loosen the grip of the mud on him.
Just glad the tide was going out.
PS. Never got the flounder,Lost his seaboots too.
-- Edited by Yuglamron on Sunday 10th of March 2013 03:24:53 PM
capricorn and pisces said
08:38 PM Mar 10, 2013
Well I get sea sick just walking across wet grass but I did enjoy that very much. keep reminiscing, loved it! capricorn
Gerty Dancer said
12:13 AM Mar 11, 2013
Great stories! Thank you.
landy said
04:57 AM Mar 11, 2013
Keep them coming both of you , verry interesting reeding.
Landy
grill n chill said
07:35 AM Mar 11, 2013
I was twenty seven years old and life was sweet. Great job, owned my own home a loving wife, just perfect except maybe I worked a little too many hours but heck I still think it was worth it. I had a pretty clear line of thought about my future back then of exactly what I wanted to achieve in life, by when, with whom. Where were you then Billeeeeee? I could of done with some of your words of wisdom!! Opps sorry I bit off track.
My wife couldnt have children, sad but in the end it didnt make much difference because we adopted instead.
It was back then an expensive drawn out system. We had social workers checking up on us for three years prior allocation , taking to neighbours, coming to work, looking in our cupboards at home. So I thought during this waiting why not travel to Korea and try and learn a little about the country, its people and their traditions before my daughter was born.
On my own I stood on the steps of Eastern Child Welfare in Seoul Korea and walked in the place unannounced. Old ornate building with plenty of marble around, high ceilings, polished timber floors. I approached a counter manned by two young girls and told them I was soon to adopt and I wanted to see the conditions the children were living in.
I was led to a room of about six by six mitres where the walls were made of entirely of glass that had been whited out. Inside there was a desk and chair and about ten little kids from about four to six years old. I sat at the desk and was left alone with those kids for about half an hour. A very happy and contented bunch of kids all playing together and having heaps of fun. All except one boy that is. It took me awhile but I realized he was playing with me. I scratch my nose he scratched his. I turn my neck he would turn his. A copy copy game.
A girl came back to take me away but as I was leaving the boy ran to me, grabbed my hand and would not let go. All the while he was bowing and talking to me in Korean. I had to pull away to get away.
At the front steps as I was leaving the two girls explained something to me. I had just been with the kids no one in this world wanted! I hadnt noticed a single thing wrong but it would seem all of the kids I was with had some sort of minor scar or missing toe that sort of thing. Up for adoption but not wanted.
One girl asked me if I wanted to know what the little boy was saying to me as I left?
He was saying PICK ME, PICK ME, I WILL BE GOOD,I WILL BE GOOD, ALL I WANT IS A DAD!
For ten years when I was in a crowd back in Adelaide I would look for a Young Korean boy with a scare on his face. I never found him. I wish I did.
Magnarc said
03:22 PM Mar 11, 2013
Very poignant story Peter, I imagine it would have been very hard to walk away from that little boy. Life can be very difficult at times.
GaryKelly said
04:12 PM Mar 11, 2013
Out with the tissues for me after reading Peter's story of the little Korean boy. That would have broken my heart, and I don't think I would have been able to leave. Better not to go to places like that in the first place. Reminds me of time at the local dog pound when a boxer kept staring at me. Lovely dog but too big, and I'd already chosen another. But I'll never forget that face.
Beth54 said
02:20 AM Mar 15, 2013
Spidas post in Solos about being camped at Nyah, Victoria, brought back memories for me.
Some time after Mum passed almost ten years ago, Dad was invited to his sister and brother-in-laws 50th wedding anniversary in Bendigo. It was to be a surprise for them, and Dad was really keen to go, but being over 80, he was a little unsteady on his feet and wasn't familiar with flying, so I went with him.
There were two major highlights to the trip. The look on his sister and bils faces as he walked in was the best! Everyone was crying. Dad's seven surviving siblings were there and boy did he have a great day of reminiscing! There were also many cousins for me to meet, mostly for the first time. We stayed for several days and he got to have more time with the one's who lived locally.
A few days later we hired a car and went back to Dad's roots...Nyah West. He grew up there and did his butchers apprenticeship there before the war. So our first stop was the butcher shop. Dad was a major havachat, so he very quickly got chatting with the butcher. When he told him of his days there, an interesting story unfolded. Some time before, they'd knocked down the old cold room out the back. Dad said he'd helped build it and described how it was done in the old days. The butcher then showed us a bottle of something they used to use in the old days, saying they found it in the wall of the old cold room. Dad had put it in there! They chatted for awhile longer then we went to see the Lingalonga Cafe. It was the hangout of Nyah West apparently and Dad was pleased to see it still there. He said nothing looked much different in town, except it was almost a ghost town.
Then he told me about an old girlfriend...would you believe we found her still living in her parents house! They had a lovely chat and I got the impression that Dad had broken her heart when he went off to war.
We stayed in Swan Hill for a couple of nights, roaming around the area, him telling me all these stories I hadn't heard before. His uncle jumping off the top of the bridge in Swan Hill, his grandfather driving horses along the canals dredging out the silt, his grandmother cutting down his uncle's old suits to fit him and so on...
I wish now that I'd written it all down, because I've sadly forgotten a lot of it.
Even though Dad was not a nice man for most of his life, particularly to Mum, I feel he made up for it in his later years, by looking after Mum for the last two years of her life, and by making it clear that he appreciated everything we did for him in his waning years.
Lastly I have to say this...Dad died 3 days after his eldest grandson, my son, got married. He was there for the ceremony and the photos, then was taken back to the Nursing Home because he couldn't last for the reception. It was as if he was just hanging in there to see them married. Nice one Dad!
JRH said
06:17 PM Mar 17, 2013
Kantiki wrote:
I can't think of a great story to tell at the moment. I am too excited about what's about to happen. My eighty yr old dad has just been diagnosed with dementia. I have decided, after living in wonderful Oz for more than 40 yrs that I will take him home to Wales for a last visit. He has been back several times but I have never been. I planned it a few times, but something always stopped me. So now we will go back to walk down memory lane one last time,but I am so looking forward to making more special memories.My step mum is not well enough to come so my sister will come instead. We had been saving up for a big trip in the van but this will be a one time opportunity, Dad won't be around for many more so this is it. Can't wait to go.
Will you be going to North or South Wales?
Whichever one have a good and enjoyable trip.
-- Edited by JRH on Sunday 17th of March 2013 06:40:16 PM
Kantiki said
01:08 AM Mar 18, 2013
I can't think of a great story to tell at the moment. I am too excited about what's about to happen. My eighty yr old dad has just been diagnosed with dementia. I have decided, after living in wonderful Oz for more than 40 yrs that I will take him home to Wales for a last visit. He has been back several times but I have never been. I planned it a few times, but something always stopped me. So now we will go back to walk down memory lane one last time,but I am so looking forward to making more special memories.My step mum is not well enough to come so my sister will come instead. We had been saving up for a big trip in the van but this will be a one time opportunity, Dad won't be around for many more so this is it. Can't wait to go.
Beth54 said
01:15 AM Mar 18, 2013
Kantiki wrote:
I can't think of a great story to tell at the moment. I am too excited about what's about to happen. My eighty yr old dad has just been diagnosed with dementia. I have decided, after living in wonderful Oz for more than 40 yrs that I will take him home to Wales for a last visit. He has been back several times but I have never been. I planned it a few times, but something always stopped me. So now we will go back to walk down memory lane one last time,but I am so looking forward to making more special memories.My step mum is not well enough to come so my sister will come instead. We had been saving up for a big trip in the van but this will be a one time opportunity, Dad won't be around for many more so this is it. Can't wait to go.
That's wonderful Kantiki. You will be making some really lovely memories with you Dad and sister. Best wishes to you all.
Kantiki said
03:39 AM Mar 18, 2013
We come from Cardiff, South Wales so we will start there with some rellies. Then book a cottage in North Wales and see some sights that Ive never seen.
A side trip to some rellies and my best freind in England. A few days in London to see the sights and vist some more rellies, then home to Australia. We only have four weeks but it will be some of the best weeks we can give dad. I just thank God that he and Mam were brave enough to leave every thing they knew and loved to give my sister and I such a wonderful life.
Diolch yn fawr.
JRH said
05:51 PM Mar 18, 2013
Kantiki wrote:
We come from Cardiff, South Wales so we will start there with some rellies. Then book a cottage in North Wales and see some sights that Ive never seen.
A side trip to some rellies and my best freind in England. A few days in London to see the sights and vist some more rellies, then home to Australia. We only have four weeks but it will be some of the best weeks we can give dad. I just thank God that he and Mam were brave enough to leave every thing they knew and loved to give my sister and I such a wonderful life.
Diolch yn fawr.
I come from Bridgend, Hope you have a wonderful time.
Hello All, I was reflecting the other day on a couple of events in my dim past. I left school in 1952 when I was 15, (what use was school, get out and earn a quid) a decision I have regretted more than once in the last 50yrs, and one of my first jobs was cabin boy on an ocean going tug operating out of Grimsby, UK. I quickly found out that the title was extraneous and, what it really meant was general dogsbody! My main duty was to keep the galley fire going and brew tea at all hours when required, prepare bacon butties and fried eggs. The galley was my preserve and it certainly had advantages in the average Humberside winters which were usually bloody cold.
British railways operated two tugs out of Grimsby, Central No4 and Central No 3. No4 was an oil burner whilst 3, my boat, was coal fired. No4 was slighlty larger in the beam by a foot or so. Skipper Bell was in charge of No4 and Soapy in charge of No3. Now Soapy acquired his nickname owing to the fact that he had a cleanliness fetish not something that we knew about in those days, we just thought that he was mad. Every spare hour or so was spent "bull****ting' the boat, ( the mates description not mine) The only bloke who consistently got away with taking part was Johnny Flegg, the fireman, seems there was always something to fix in the boiler room.
Now among both crews there was some question marks over Soapy's ability as a Skipper and this was brought abruptly to our attention one day when we went out to attend to a Clan Line freighter. The Clan Line operated a lot of boats which were all named after Scots clans, Clan McDougall, Clan McTavish etc; The boats were, for the most part, between 6.000 and the 10,000 ton mark some slightly larger and some were refrigerated vessels carrying perishables. The day was bright and clear with a moderate swell in the mouth of the River Humber, and, in company with No4 we picked up the Clan Alpine about two nautical miles from the mouth. The Skippers would alternate between bow and stern ropes and today we were the stern boat. Bow rope was a fairly simple exercise, hitch up and proceed at around 5 to 8knots up the river, stern boat was slightly more involved as your main purpose was to stop the vessel swinging around and thus maintain a straight course down the channel.
No sooner had we hooked up when the wind increased from the North-East to some 10-20knots. For those who are not familiar with the geography, the river runs from West to East which meant that it was blowing almost directly into the starboard side of the towed boat, thus any 'swing' would be a lot more pronounced toward the Lincolnshire coast. We proceded for some time with our vessel nearly at right angles to the tow, such was the force exerted, then, for some reason Skipper Bell decreased his speed, thus causing the rope to slacken, for some inexplicable reason Soapy turned us to Port instead of Starboard and we ended up crossing our tow rope. This is an unforgivable error as, once that 12inch hemp wound around our propeller, we would be in great danger of being pulled under stern first with virtually no way to avoid it.
It was at this point that I found out what those two very large axes stowed near the wheelhouse were for. The mate, whose name sadly I can't remember, grabbed one of these axes the deckhand the other, and went to work on the towrope which they managed to sever with a couple of minutes to spare. Everything happened so quickly that I can't remember being scared, but I probably was!!! Soapy lost his boat but they gave him a desk job. The word bandied around was that a 12inch hemp rope was worth a thousand pounds, but I can't verify it.
Hope that I haven't bored everyone, I would love to hear if any of our Nomad 'Clan" have some story to tell of their past.
Ooh Roo,
Magnarc
-- Edited by Magnarc on Sunday 10th of March 2013 12:24:18 PM
-- Edited by Magnarc on Sunday 10th of March 2013 12:32:23 PM
Keep on reminiscing,it's great to hear of someone elses life and experiences.
One of mine.
I was with a friend running a small 22' timber boat as a safety boat in Plymouth UK in the early seventies. We were mainly there in case any of the steel riggers fell into the drink.
One day the tide was going out and a very large flounder was caught out on a mudbank. My skipper gave me the tiller and we nosed very slowly into the mudflat and Fred jumped out onto the mud to grab the flounder.
Big mistake.................. as he landed on the mud he just sank into it. By the time he stopped sinking he was up to his chest in mud.
He had on a pair of seaboots which were folded down.
Well it was hilarious for me watching his face as he sank into the mud until I realised how serious it was.
To cut a long story short it took around an hour to get him out by pouring water around him to loosen the grip of the mud on him.
Just glad the tide was going out.
PS. Never got the flounder,Lost his seaboots too.
-- Edited by Yuglamron on Sunday 10th of March 2013 03:24:53 PM
Well I get sea sick just walking across wet grass but I did enjoy that very much. keep reminiscing, loved it! capricorn
Keep them coming both of you , verry interesting reeding.
Landy
I was twenty seven years old and life was sweet. Great job, owned my own home a loving wife, just perfect except maybe I worked a little too many hours but heck I still think it was worth it. I had a pretty clear line of thought about my future back then of exactly what I wanted to achieve in life, by when, with whom. Where were you then Billeeeeee? I could of done with some of your words of wisdom!! Opps sorry I bit off track.
My wife couldnt have children, sad but in the end it didnt make much difference because we adopted instead.
It was back then an expensive drawn out system. We had social workers checking up on us for three years prior allocation , taking to neighbours, coming to work, looking in our cupboards at home. So I thought during this waiting why not travel to Korea and try and learn a little about the country, its people and their traditions before my daughter was born.
On my own I stood on the steps of Eastern Child Welfare in Seoul Korea and walked in the place unannounced. Old ornate building with plenty of marble around, high ceilings, polished timber floors. I approached a counter manned by two young girls and told them I was soon to adopt and I wanted to see the conditions the children were living in.
I was led to a room of about six by six mitres where the walls were made of entirely of glass that had been whited out. Inside there was a desk and chair and about ten little kids from about four to six years old. I sat at the desk and was left alone with those kids for about half an hour. A very happy and contented bunch of kids all playing together and having heaps of fun. All except one boy that is. It took me awhile but I realized he was playing with me. I scratch my nose he scratched his. I turn my neck he would turn his. A copy copy game.
A girl came back to take me away but as I was leaving the boy ran to me, grabbed my hand and would not let go. All the while he was bowing and talking to me in Korean. I had to pull away to get away.
At the front steps as I was leaving the two girls explained something to me. I had just been with the kids no one in this world wanted! I hadnt noticed a single thing wrong but it would seem all of the kids I was with had some sort of minor scar or missing toe that sort of thing. Up for adoption but not wanted.
One girl asked me if I wanted to know what the little boy was saying to me as I left?
He was saying PICK ME, PICK ME, I WILL BE GOOD,I WILL BE GOOD, ALL I WANT IS A DAD!
For ten years when I was in a crowd back in Adelaide I would look for a Young Korean boy with a scare on his face. I never found him. I wish I did.
Spidas post in Solos about being camped at Nyah, Victoria, brought back memories for me.
Some time after Mum passed almost ten years ago, Dad was invited to his sister and brother-in-laws 50th wedding anniversary in Bendigo. It was to be a surprise for them, and Dad was really keen to go, but being over 80, he was a little unsteady on his feet and wasn't familiar with flying, so I went with him.
There were two major highlights to the trip. The look on his sister and bils faces as he walked in was the best! Everyone was crying. Dad's seven surviving siblings were there and boy did he have a great day of reminiscing! There were also many cousins for me to meet, mostly for the first time. We stayed for several days and he got to have more time with the one's who lived locally.
A few days later we hired a car and went back to Dad's roots...Nyah West. He grew up there and did his butchers apprenticeship there before the war. So our first stop was the butcher shop. Dad was a major havachat, so he very quickly got chatting with the butcher. When he told him of his days there, an interesting story unfolded. Some time before, they'd knocked down the old cold room out the back. Dad said he'd helped build it and described how it was done in the old days. The butcher then showed us a bottle of something they used to use in the old days, saying they found it in the wall of the old cold room. Dad had put it in there! They chatted for awhile longer then we went to see the Lingalonga Cafe. It was the hangout of Nyah West apparently and Dad was pleased to see it still there. He said nothing looked much different in town, except it was almost a ghost town.
Then he told me about an old girlfriend...would you believe we found her still living in her parents house! They had a lovely chat and I got the impression that Dad had broken her heart when he went off to war.
We stayed in Swan Hill for a couple of nights, roaming around the area, him telling me all these stories I hadn't heard before. His uncle jumping off the top of the bridge in Swan Hill, his grandfather driving horses along the canals dredging out the silt, his grandmother cutting down his uncle's old suits to fit him and so on...
I wish now that I'd written it all down, because I've sadly forgotten a lot of it.
Even though Dad was not a nice man for most of his life, particularly to Mum, I feel he made up for it in his later years, by looking after Mum for the last two years of her life, and by making it clear that he appreciated everything we did for him in his waning years.
Lastly I have to say this...Dad died 3 days after his eldest grandson, my son, got married. He was there for the ceremony and the photos, then was taken back to the Nursing Home because he couldn't last for the reception. It was as if he was just hanging in there to see them married. Nice one Dad!
Will you be going to North or South Wales?
Whichever one have a good and enjoyable trip.
-- Edited by JRH on Sunday 17th of March 2013 06:40:16 PM
That's wonderful Kantiki. You will be making some really lovely memories with you Dad and sister. Best wishes to you all.
We come from Cardiff, South Wales so we will start there with some rellies. Then book a cottage in North Wales and see some sights that Ive never seen.
A side trip to some rellies and my best freind in England. A few days in London to see the sights and vist some more rellies, then home to Australia. We only have four weeks but it will be some of the best weeks we can give dad. I just thank God that he and Mam were brave enough to leave every thing they knew and loved to give my sister and I such a wonderful life.
Diolch yn fawr.
I come from Bridgend, Hope you have a wonderful time.
Diolch yn fawr