Business Traveller

My home PC went on the fritz the other day, so while passing through Heathrow Duty Free, I decided to take a look at what was on offer.

I was seduuced by the new MacBook Pro in shiny silver. People like Rich…! have been trying to convince me to try a mac for ever, and the adverts were really clever, so I thought I’d give it a go.

the verdict is still out, but lets just say that the ‘fun’ aspects of a mac aren’t exactly out of the box. It’s exactly like windows – in that – to do anything at all,  you have to buy software. The thing is that I know PC Software. I know my Coreldraw, animation packages, web-site tools etc. I don’t know anything about what’s good in the mac space, and there doesn’t even seem to be much in the OpenSource world for me to play with…

Any recommendations?

Need a laugh?

Hate the Penelope Cruz lashes advert?

This is for you!

http://pareshute.blogspot.com/2007/07/lushous-lashes-l-advert.html

Picture the scene:

You’re a young German guy, and you’re working the till at one of those convenience stores attached to a petrol station somewhere in Eastern Germany. It’s even sadder than it sounds, because – being Germany – you had to do a 3 year apprenticipship before you were allowed to start doing this job (meaning that this is something that you aspired to).

It’s a long night. You’re all on your own, and haven’t seen another person for at least half an hour, when the tedium is suddenly broken by the sound of a high performance engine approaching. A shiny red Ferrari pulls into the petrol station, and out climbs a tall, blod, gorgeous woman who looks about 30. She’s wearing only a pair of gold stelleto healed shoes, and she walks straight up to your till, and asks for a box of cigarettes. She pays, gets back into the Ferrari,  and drives off.

This is exactly what has been happening in Deutchland over the past few weeks.

Now is it just me, or is the world a slightly happier place – knowing that somewhere in the world, this is happening?

There aren’t many things in this world that evoke the same images of glamour and sophistication as sailing. Not that poncing about in excessive power boats that the Russians and Americans love so much – no, the genteel act of taking a sleek sailing yacht out into the Mediterranean with its sails full of wind.

That’s what I was doing last week. We’d booked a 43 foot yacht, and arrived in Cyprus at around 2 am. Drove from Pafos to Limmisol, straight into the Marina, and onto the yacht. Beer, vodka, rum and scotch flowed until around 5am, and then we passed out. The next morning was the first indication that the genteel world was not all it seemed. I was woken by Orange Boy and Pie (spooning in the forward cabin)  locked in a desperate contest to see who could fart the loudest. Kebab had passed out on the deck – in his underwear… oh dear.

A few days in, it became apparent that the smell below decks was more than just Pie and Orange-boy’s fart contests. The smell seemed to be deeply ingrained and impossible to get rid of…

Over the next few days, the days were taken with doing the skippers licence, nights and mornings largely followed the same pattern of drinking, farting, and kebab passing out on the deck in his underwear. The monotony was broken one night, when the Carlsburg beer girls were doing a promotion and came to the bar we were drinking at. Led by Captain Thigh (not her real name), they were dressed as sailors, and provided the perfect fantasy for the rest of our trip. We’ve all resolved to go to Romania at some point (that’s where they were from).

Fast forward to the end of the course, when we were practicing parking. There are any number ways of parking a yacht in a busy marina – but the word that best describes them all is ‘Carefully’. Each yacht is worth a small fortune, and some more than others.  Crashing into another yacht isn’t going to make you any friends. We were particularly practicing parallel mooring at the fuel Pier on the morning in question. We took turns with the various functions:-

• Skippering (telling the others wwhat to do)
• Helm (Driving)
• Bow Line (The rope that needs to be tied between the front of the boat and the bollard on the pier)
• Stern Line (The rope that needs to be tied between the back of the boat and bollard on the pier)
• Spring (The line that ties the middle of the boat to the pier, and determines forward and backward motion)

On this particular go, I was on the bow line (I’d already done Stern and Spring lines). My job was to, as the boat – slowly – approached the pier, give off distance warnings to the Helm, and when close enough, step over the side of the boat, and onto the pier – where I had to tie the bow line onto the bollard on the pier, and ensure that it was tight enough. Easy. done it a hundred times. Of course, this time there were girls watching from the bar boat. I stood, heroicly on the front of the boat – line in my hand, every muscle taught – ready for my moment. Stepped onto the pier as I looked up at the girls, and…

And then I was picking myself up off the ground with a grazed elbow and bruised shoulder. A few hours later, I had an ankle the size of a football. The thing that really hurt was my ego though… I fell with all the poise and grace of a felled redwood!

Oh well, no skippers licence for me – but I did enjoy it!