So it just took one small step, to jump off a giant cliff and go hurtling to the ground. Fast. Very fast. And I was caught and here I am sat upright writing again. I left the UK two weeks ago today. In fact this time two weeks ago I was with friends sharing a drink toasting my unexpected future. With my boy. As well. Who has gone now, again. He does that. And now it’s just me. Oh and the 12 others I work with. Would love to introduce you to them one by one including name, age and nationality. I won’t. We have a leader. He rounds us up keeps us focused. We have some from ‘Stralia, some from New Zealand, a couple of welsh boys and there is even a couple of Brits.
My life is driven by the water. It’s where I am happiest. Where I breathe. Where I am free. Funny because it’s anything but freeing. This time in two weeks fingers crossed ill be at sea on my way. West. West is best. Towards the sunset, in fact towards St Maarten. Joyful, escape this chilly 26 degrees. That’s what it was today. I was still in trousers.
I went out with the boys the other night. (welsh accent on). Bloody funny, it was. We got a little bit sidetracked and our conversation was a little on the boring side, but after drinking some beers and necking a few rum and cokes, we had a hot dog each and took the road home. Wimbling through Palma back to our little home. Where by we proceeded to act like regular boarding school candidates and laugh with each other into the wee hours, until we all got tired and took to our bunks. So being a little bit dusty I woke up at 7:15. Rolled my eyes and tried to pretend it wasn’t. 7:15. At 7:25 I got in the shower. Stood there a wee while until I nearly flooded the bathroom. Got out and pulled on my uniform. Great thing about my work is I have uniform. The only thing I have to think about is knickers and bra, and with my boy gone, I don’t even have to think about that!
At 7:45 I walked out of my cabin into the crew mess where there are normally about 9 others drinking coffee and coming round to the day. We all start work at 8. I have to clean and prepare for breakfast. Which for 12 plus everyday is not a small feat. General chat about systems, toilets, funny things, food between 9 and 9:30. We have lunch from 1pm. Sometimes its an hour sometimes its only 30 mins. We laugh. Mainly. Even when things aren’t too funny. We are lucky so we laugh. Day ends for some at 5, for others, like the guys right now they are still going its 9pm. Our world demands our time and our deadlines are dead lines. We survive as a unit and are wholly self-sufficient. She demands our time, our energy, we rely on each other. There is no I in this team.
So I’m back I guess. I stepped onto dry land and gave it my best shot. For some people it’s their bedroom and their house and their space – that’s what’s important to them. And for me, it’s my bunk and my rucksack and my beautiful floating home. It’s knowing that’s ill never be anywhere too long that shit gets dull. It’s having the up most routine, like boarding school, its being surrounded by other people constantly. Its being part of a team that only survives with each other’s help. I love to belong and be needed. To know that if I don’t make the toast the system breaks down. It’s the small things that count.