Its all gone Pink and Lime!

They're here !!

2008-02-17T22:31:00.003Z

I would like to introduce you to Eben and Eloise Brownlow Davies. Born at 12.13 and 12.14 on 16th February 2008, weighing 5lb8oz and 5lb exactly. Mum and babies doing well, although sore from caesarean, and babies currently have slightly low blood sugar levels and don't seem too keen on their food (not my genes!) so are being fed via horrible tubes in their noses, poor mites. Other than that they are very healthy babies... Oh so tiny and Oh so cute... Anyway, I could wax lyrical about them for ages... But must get some sleep...

Tim & Tam

2007-11-01T11:23:00.002Z

Twin 1, the boy who is being kicked in the head by his sister

And Twin 2, the girl, nonchalantly sucking her thumb

Take Five - the Maiden Voyage

2007-10-03T11:04:00.000Z

So, along with my (foolishly brave) friends James and Tim, I decided to take my (not so) new yacht on its maiden voyage - at least the first proper voyage under my skipperage.

After an execrable winter trying to get her ready for a summer's sailing season, and an even more execrable summer still trying to get her ready, she was finally launched on the 10th August and since I had only had a few short trips around the coast between Shoreham and Brighton. But at last I was due to take her to Cowes for a decent outing and see what she was made of.

The weather forecast for the weekend changed every day I looked. From Westerlies to Northerlies to Easterlies and back to Northerlies. Perfect; a nice flat sea and a single reach all the way there and all the way back.

Plus it was the highest tide of the year, so if we timed it right we'd get a lift all the way there on a good spring tide. Convening at 0800 on Saturday morning ready to get the 09.00 lock opening out of Shoreham we were due to make good progress in the promised 15 knots from the North and once the tide turned the ebb would take us all the way to Cowes.

So when 09.00 came and went and the lock didn't open, I should have guessed this was an omen of things to come. Turns out the small boat lock was down for maintenance that weekend and we'd have to wait until the 10.00 Ship lock opened. Hmmm. Should still just about make it through the Looe Channel at slack tide.

And lo, it was a beautiful day with 10 knots from the North and we broad reached for the Bill... As the wind backed to the East we tried goosewinging and continued to make good progress. Until that is, instead of building the wind started to drop off. 8 knots, 5 knots, 0 knots. After a few hilarious cock-ups with the spinnaker (which we did finally get flying) and still not making more than 2 or 3 knots over the ground (with a 2.5 knot tide with us !), we chose the better side of valour and fired up the croaky old horses. With 12 of them pushing us along at nearly 7 knots in the height of the ebb, we were back on track to clear Selsely Bill and make it, at least most of the way to the Solent before the tide turned again.

Apart from demolishing a crate of beers and most of a bottle of rum (obviously none for the skipper, of course - ed.) the rest of the journey into Cowes was pretty uneventful. The engine not quite powerful enough to get us there before dark, but still a respectable 10 hours after leaving Shoreham.

Here the fun started, my lovely little engine ( Bless it ! Grrr) decided that after powering along for so long at high revs that it just wouldn't bother with the low revs stuff. Add to this a full East Cowes Marina in the dark, it made for an interesting mooring exercise. Having to come in at full revs, and park in a tiny space between very expensive yachts. Fortunately James was pretty quick with the fender as I slammed into the pontoon. Parking a boat with an engine that only runs at high revs is not exactly a calm entrance - thankfully at 20.00 everyone was in the pub. Nevertheless we managed to finally moor up without damaging us or the million pound yachts around us.

Somewhat more tired than we had expected, we only managed dinner and a couple of pints in the pub before back to the boat to finish the rum and a comatose sleep, praying for some wind on Sunday to take us home.

Well! We woke up on Sunday and although at first it appeared to be even stiller than yesterday, by the time we had motored out of the Medina river it became apparent our prayers had been answered... If only we'd been more specific. The perfect sailing wind of 16-18 knots was blowing from the East, the exact direction we wanted to go in... Bugger...

As I say, perfect sailing wind, steadily building to 20+ knots. With one reef in, we had excellent fun racing the other early morning Solent goers, tacking up toward Horse Sands Fort, dodging the Wight Link Ferry, Ryde Fast Cat, the Hover Craft and the 500 tonne Navy vessels... That is until pushing the port tack just a little too far proved to us that even when the Depth Sounder says 10 metres, you can still run aground in the shifting sands of Ryde. Bugger(again). Even though we were on a rising tide and would float off soon, we needed to get off urgently, we had no time to lose to continue with the flood behind us past the Bill. Fortunately, as an instructor of mine had contended that "if you don't run aground you're not trying hard enough", I had had plenty of experience of the bottom of Poole Harbour. Simply hail a passing fishing boat, get them to take a line to a halyard, heel you over and drag you out.

40 minutes wasted... This was going to be a challenge getting through the channel in time...

With relatively inexperienced crew and a generally lazy attitude I decided to take long tacks toward Selsey Bill. This was my first (surely about 10th? - ed.) mistake. The tide had turned and the ebb was starting to carry us, which along with the the leeway made in 20 knots of easterly meant we were tacking through about 160 degrees over the ground. Making very slow head way indeed.

6 hours ! Yes, 6 hours later, we had managed the four miles to round Selsey bill. At one point we were tacking up and down more-or-less on the spot. That was depressing. We short-tacked though the channel, and finally had cleared the Bill.

However, it was now 18.00, and we were still 25 miles from Shoreham, upwind... more like 40 through the water. It was getting dark, we'd been tacking for 10 hours and were just about half way... At least the tide was about to turn again in 2 hours, and we might make a VMG of over 2 Nautical Miles per Hour toward Shoreham.

4 hours later, we were 15 miles from Shoreham and knackered. Worst was we could see the lights from Worthing Pier, so it felt like we were almost home, yet there was still a good 2 or 3 hours sailing to go, the wind was rising to a steady 26 knots and in the dark it was quite exhilarating, with boat speed regularly hitting 8 knots or more.

Midnight. OK, its beginning to get a bit frustrating now. Still 7 miles to Shoreham. Tim is asleep in the saloon, James is asleep clipped into the pushpit. We are about to pass Worthing Pier.

01.00. 2 miles to Shoreham. Right, fuck this, I don't care if the engine is knackered, I wanna get the 0130 lock gate in. Engine on, Genoa Furled. Direct Course to the Lighthouse set.

01.10. Engine dies. Genoa unfurled. At this point I got on the radio to the Lock-keepers to explain our lack of engine, and could I sail into the Lock. Thankfully they had a Pilot boat taking a ship out at 01.30, so if I could get there by about 01.45 they could probably tow me back in.

So, after waking up James & Tim we start tacking in, desperate to make it to the harbour before the pilot finishes and goes back home.

01.30. 1.5 miles west of Shoreham. Fucking Lobster Pot. In the dark we sailed straight over a lobster pot, which kindly decides to wrap its line around our keel. After slowly coming to a halt, we start drifting back and pirouette around the damn pot.

I have now been beating to windward for nearly 20 hours. The very last thing I want to be doing is leaning over the side of the boat trying to cut us free, but what choice was there ?

01.45. All the bits of rope I can reach have been cut, but we're still stuck.

Fuck this. 'Pan Pan, Pan Pan, Pan Pan. This is Yacht Take Five, Take Five, Take Five. Over'

'Pan Pan Take Five, this is Solent Coastguard can we help ? Over'

...

02.45 Shoreham Inshore Life Boat arrives on the scene.

03.45 We finally arrive on dry land, tied up at the visitors pontoon in Shoreham harbour. 20 hours exactly since leaving Cowes.

On the plus side, whilst I have proved that my passage planning may lead a little to be desired, and my engine is a bunch of shite, Take Five otherwise really looked after us. She was fast through the water, with a kindly motion. Easy and forgiving to sail. Oh, and night sailing in a force 6 is loads of fun... for a few hours.

Who's up for the next trip ?

Oh, and I'm taking donations for a new engine :-)

I wanna go back to the future

2007-09-27T20:04:00.000Z

(It's like living in Nazi Germany)

From:
Sent: 27 September 2007 19:20
To: SC Office
Subject: Dress code defined

The second of my two important emails…

At the meeting on Friday, I didn’t have time to define the more detailed rules of the new dress code. Having benefited from a variety of useful feedback and questions in the last week, I would like to do so now. Please make sure you understand this, ask any further questions it may throw up, and to repeat Simon’s email of Monday morning, please make sure that you adhere to the new policy in full by Oct 22^nd.

KEY PRINCIPLE:

As I said, this dress code is about smartening up, stopping being scruffy and becoming presentable as a business to customers.

Of course, one person or customer’s definition of what exactly is ‘business smart’ will differ to another’s. I have conceded below, for example, that smart jeans can sometimes look as smart as non jeans. But these rules must be the management team’s view of the minimum acceptable level, since we will need to decide what is smart and what is not as time goes on. So if this concession for smart jeans – or any other in future - lead to a general deterioration over time as your own personal interpretations creep in, we will be forced to change this again.

DRESS CODE…

A. For customer-facing staff (i.e. basically the 2^nd floor):

1. ‘Business’ shirts:

Yes, these should have a collar. But no, not all collared shirts are presentable to customers in a business environment. So please be sensible, and wear shirts that are clearly smart enough. For example, no sports shirts, or shirts with multi-coloured Hawaiian-style patterns on them that were meant for the rugby field or beach. You all know what we are looking for, and have all recognised the exceptions this week that are clearly not it. You need to wear shirts (and jumpers etc when it gets colder) that look smart not scruffy.

For women, it is even harder to define what this means, since you could look perfectly smart and ready for customers even if the shirt under your jersey or jacket doesn’t have a collar. So it is even more necessary to rely on sensible judgement.

2. Trousers (or equivalent skirts etc):

Yes, as mentioned, you can wear jeans IF they look smart and if we would think you smart enough in front of a customer with them. I.e. they should be clean, not baggy, not patterned, not ripped, and not in any other way or in anyone’s opinion, scruffy. Otherwise, chinos-style or any other tidy and business-presentable trousers. So clearly not baggy combat trousers with pockets or patterns all over them either.

3. Shoes:

You should not wear trainers in front of customers, so should not do so on the second floor. Otherwise, most sensible shoes will be fine. Clearly there is a fine line between some trainers (that look like shoes) and some types of casual shoes. I don’t want the management team to spend their whole time being fashion police, although they will have to if you insist on testing them out. So again, be sensible. If your shoes look like they were intended to be a part of a tidy outfit, they are probably fine. If they were intended to be worn on the sports field or on the feet some would-be rapper, they are not. Massive boots or Doc Martins are similarly unlikely to pass the test.

Again, for women, it is harder to define. But since you all seem to have made a real effort with this already, I suspect that you have a better in-built understanding of what is acceptable in a business context anyway – and have less desire to wear the exceptions mentioned above!

B. For the rest of the technical team (i.e. the 1^st floor):

Given the concession re tidy jeans above, your dress code only differs from the 2^nd floor in that it is acceptable for you to wear tidy trainers. You are unlikely to be called in to impromptu customer meetings, and are much less likely than the others to bump into customers in the office (since most will be upstairs). Even if you do, our customers are might just feint if they see a techie in a pair of black brogues…

However, we do expect you to wear tidy trainers if that’s what you prefer, and to adhere to the rest of the policy above. I.e. collared, presentable shirt (as above), not T shirts with ‘Land of the Living Dead’ written in blood on them, or the sort of colourful wonders that belong in a Jamaican cocktail bar… And tidy jeans as described above.

IN SHORT….

This is about smartening up, taking a sensible view of what that entails in the process. We have attempted to draw the line in a place that makes a positive step change in appearance, without going too far. If, for example, anyone out there still wonders whether this will be a stepping stone en route to having to wear suits, I can happily repeat in writing that that will never happen since nobody wants it to happen.

I also have no desire for company time to be spent policing this line. But the management team will do so, and take a dim view of anyone who continually pushes the boundaries. If that happens too much, I will merely have to make the code stricter again (eg lose the jeans upstairs if you can’t make them presentable).

But you know that is not how we want to work. We will be re-focusing on what matters in coming weeks and months: the businesss, our numbers, our strategy, our future… and this smartening up will soon become a mere footnote on that enjoyable ride. So please act like grown-ups, adhere to this request and we will move on.

Any comments or further questions, see me or your manager. Do not start a Reply All debate going, since that is not how we work either.

Cheers,

Bob

We're having Twins

2007-09-07T08:32:00.000Z

Don't fight with Dogs

2007-08-31T09:16:00.001Z

Five Things I Probably Don't Know About Me

2007-01-25T11:07:00.000Z

While I'm in the mood for dancing, er blogging, I thought I ought to reply to my Tagging - can't remember who did, but I was tagged to blog about 5 things you probably didn't know about me.

This is very unfair - as has been said, I don't remember a whole lot of my younger years.

This isn't just rhetoric, I genuinely remember very little from the last 15 years (or before for that matter) Its not that I don't have a good memory, I do - i frequently irritate Cass with being able to remember stuff almost photographically - not like Dan, but pretty good anyway - I think I just wasn't very good at laying down memories, i kind of couldn't be arsed with it. That's what photos and stories are for.

And that is the other problem, the only things I do remember are the stories I've told, ad infinitum to most of you - as with H, I have been known to be a bit gobby. On occasion.

On top of which I have little shame and am not frightened of obloquy, so little goes unmentioned.

So I put to you, the blogosphere (see I'm learning the lingo and everything) that maybe you could blog me five things I probably didn't know about myself.

Meanwhile I will try and think of something interesting

Its not meant to snow, in Subtropical Shoreham...

2007-01-25T08:03:00.000Z

But the dog loves it, he's like a child the way he rushes out to play in the snow. Barmy.

No sailing today...

2007-01-19T12:36:00.000Z

Photographer: Dan Montuschi

"Taken at 10.30 on 18th January - looking towards Brighton West Pier from Hove."

Christians or Microsoft Users

2007-01-18T09:36:00.000Z

Which are worse, which do you hate most ?

Currently I am feeling about as vitriolic toward christians as Doug does towards microsoft users.

On Saturday we will be scattering my mothers ashes in the grave yard of the church she was christened, confirmed and married in. Whilst this is going to doubtless be of great benefit to my grandmother, it is something that my father and I are really not looking forward to. We've had it about up to here with these so called christians, and their terrorist mythology.

Whilst my mother was lying on her death bed she asked to see the Vicar. Obviously having not been there it is difficult to imagine what goes through ones head, and in fact something I hope never to find out (please may the number 36 hit me, just as I start my decline), but having not been to church for 30 years she obviously believed it was time, to have a quick word - just in case like...

So what happens is that this vicar who looks like he spends most of his life in either the pub or the school play ground appears on our doorstep, asking to be invited in... For Future reference, Never Invite Them In they are like vampires!

Previous to this, my mother had been in pain, a lot of pain, but she was quiescent and stoical; she was accepting. She knew what was coming - nothing, and she was almost looking forward to it as relief from the pain, ignominy and debasement of this horrific disease. She was afraid of dying alone or dying in hospital, but she was not afraid of dying.

Half an hour with this ~~paedo~~ ~~vampire~~ priest and she was in hysterics - she was going to be damned. She was afraid to die, Peter would meet her at the pearly gates and cast her down into the fiery pits of hell. She must repent all her sins (I think she trod on a wasp once. She even apologised to me for spanking me too much as a child; I mean, me, with such respect for authority! I don't think I was spanked enough. But that's another story.).

He followed this up with no less than a dozen visits during her last week, just to ensure the torment was complete. My father took to hiding in the garden shed when he came round.

Her last days were a misery of despair thanks to this nasty little* man and his abhorrent superstitions.

I hate them, and everything they stand for. This one, to be fair was by far one of the better ones - reasonably liberal and humanising - imagine how bad the full-on fascist hardliners would be ! I didn't approve of christianity / organised religion before, but now...

So anyway, for the sake of my grandmother, who is too old to know better, we have to go and listen to more of this drivel, all the while trying to keep the visions of violent and bloody theocide out of my mind.

[/end rant].

Right, sorry. Have a good weekend. Doing anything nice ?

* actually he is enormous, no less than 25 stone certainly. More "little", as in small minded weasely theocratic tosser