And so on to "Regent". My first time on this one but apart from some very minor differences (silly things like some internal ladders were of steel and not wood etc) I could have been back on ""Resource". Sometimes I sympathised with the wag who named them "Remorse" and "Regret". But actually they weren't bad ships. But it's the crew that "makes" the ship either a "happy" one or otherwise. Sometimes the ship was a happy one despite having a Captain who just issued edicts and having "edicted" expected everything he had proclaimed to be carried out. This is the ultimate "Ivory Tower" syndrome. It's also quite telling that very few Captains of that mind set ever checked to see if their orders had actually been carried out......95% of the time they were totally ignored except for those who were scrambling for promotion and so would do anything to earn some Brownie points. These sycophants were also often ignored by "them wot did the work". But this time our Captain was a 6'7" nice guy. At that size he could afford to be. The "Stonnery" was the same old, same old mixture of dockyard-mateys promoted beyond their levels of competence (simply because the Officers bar and dining saloon could accommodate them, while the POs and Crew areas were "full"...always caused a bit of friction). And while I'm at it, what other organisation on earth apart from the British Civil Service could come up with the rank of "Skilled Labourer" I ask you! But their never ending whinging was the same old stuff. The "managerial" side of the Stonnery were perhaps the most ineffectual "managers" I have ever come across...ever. They may have been good at organizing the "stuff" to be loaded and then transferred to "customers" (jargon!), but man-management didn't really appeal to them. As the "hoi-poloi" in the Stonnery were very well aware of this, every rule in their (union) book was exploited to the full. "Overtime" was king. Asas their overmanning. Who else but the Civil Service would countenance employing a well paid guy whose one and only job was to polish one (long) alleyway? The ships staff who lived in a similar alleyway polished the thing as and when time permitted (they were salaried). A bit of a crunch came when we (bridge staff) noticed the same pallett of shells being trundled around the ship week after week, Sunday after Sunday. An enterprising engineer marked one of the shells and a photo of this was presented to the "STO(N)" (boss of the Stonnery). Much bluster and wringing of hands. Much talk of "bringing the wages up to par" and so on. Even now, after all these years, I cringe when I think of what a useless, moneygrabbing bunch of whingers that department employed.
Any way, as I'd joined during her refit (Tyne, again..naturally!) and had gone through the same process of being treated as a primary schoolchild at Portland once again we were considered "fit for purpose" and set off into the blue-yonder. But with only a couple of events to liven things up this was probably the most boring and un-productive voyage I did in the RFA. We called in at Gib. for no particular reason apart from letting everyone ashore for a haircut. On to the Suez Canal. By now I was getting seriously involved with the creeping disease called "boredom". Almost terminal, and the "cutting of wrists" began to seem quite attractive. So I organized a trip to Cairo and the Pyramids. This "party" would leave the ship at Port Said and rejoin at Tewfik (the bottom bit of the canal). I managed to get sufficient people to fill a "full-size" bus (50/55 people?). A 4am start. Yeuch. The "agent" I had booked this trip through had obviously never heard of "customer satisfaction". The bus had seats, but in all other respects it was more like a home-made lorry conversion driven by a madman. It's a long way from Port Said to Cairo...about 6 hours of terror (hence the early start). The terror comes from the Egyptian driving style. The white line in the centre of the road seems to mean that the driver must follow it as if on auto-pilot. So does the big truck coming the other way. At the very last moment (and I mean this) the vehicles swerved and passed. Absolutely awful. And we would be returning in darkness. Oh, well. May as well enjoy my last day on earth. The desert is not at all like even the dirtiest UK beach. For a start it isn't sand. It's mucky gravel. And it is absolutely covered with black plastic bags blowing around like kites in the non-stop wind. Too late to get off now. Stopped for a break somewhere but non of us fancied picking out a live pigeon that the proprietor offered to kill and cook for us. A quick (or slow) widdle, and we were on our way again. Got to Cairo. But before we reached our first destination (The Museum of Antiquities) the "driver" took us through the "City of the Dead". A great start to a fun day out. I suppose it should be called a cemetary, but it's more than that. It's a town within a town, only the inhabitants are well, not alive. They are in houses of various sizes, and the only living things to be seen are the feral dogs. I'll leave the rest to your imagination.
I'll continue this later...you may have gathered that I am reverting to my "old way" of doing this. Time consuming, but masochistically more satisfying! BY