February 6th, 1989

February 6th, 1989

At home

Monday. Monday. Ugh. Monday. Back to the early morning taxi, train and tube routine today, with standing room only on the train into London. The trenchies (men in trench coats) had already staked claim to the area around the luggage racks, so I had to stand in the aisle. Unlike the tube, the train has nothing overhead to hold onto, so whenever the train swayed, I tried to steady myself by digging my fingers into the fabric on the seat closest to me. The scowl on the seat occupants face was not enough to deter me.

When I rang Jon on Saturday to cancel (felt horrible doing so, especially when he let it slip that it was his birthday weekend) he asked if I’d like some help looking for a car. Jon knows I have zero interest in anything car related (apart from the fact I’d like one) and offered to start looking around for something suitable for me.

I was one of the last few to arrive in class today, and I loved seeing the sea of uniforms. Everyone looked really smart, and the atmosphere felt very different to last week when we were still in what Diane called “civvies.”

The morning was taken up with Bar Service, with the focus on the vast array of wines available in Club World. We did a lot of role-playing, and Sam had us in stitches with some of his antics.

Tina (don’t really know her yet) offered Daniel (her pretend passenger) “something hot, sir?” in her lovely Scottish lilt, and his eyes lit up! I get the impression Daniel likes Tina, she’s really sweet and very pretty. At lunchtime, I was surprised when Carl told me she has young twin girls. Apparently they’re in Scotland with their dad, but that’s all Carl knew.

The day flew by and it was bucketing down at home time, so I was grateful when Carl offered to drop Sam and I at Hatton Cross. Carl is a great guy, I think he could be a bit of a lad, but harmless. This is his first experience as crew, and I have a sneaking suspicion he’s going to make the most of it.

Before Sam and I even reached the platform at Hatton Cross, we were stopped by at least half a dozen people, asking for directions to not only the airport, but to the closest public toilet.

“Right that way madam,” Sam pointed to the other side of the station, with a big smile.

“Thank you,” she said.

“You’re welcome, madam.”

We made our way towards the stairs. “I’m glad you know where the loo is, I had no idea,” I said.

“Nor do I,” he said. “But I can already tell, being in uniform is going to be fun!”

Ate fruit for dinner! Only because I found out when we’re doing dinghy drills, and I don’t want to be the fat girl in the pool, swimming for her life.

 

 

 

 

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