Book 2, Chapter 56

“Wakey, wakey, rise and shine!”

“You must be kidding Beth; it’s Sunday and the middle of the night!”

“I went for my morning run over an hour ago while you were snoring fit to shake the walls of the house down.”

I had silenced my alarm clock and radio alarm but for some reason it is illegal to strangle terminally cheerful young cousins…. At least she had brought me a cup of tea so I might eventually forgive her….

As I sipped my tea and looked at the hands of my clock pointing accusingly at 10, I gathered my memories to better plan the day ahead. Last night we’d celebrated Penny and Andy’s engagement with song and rather more alcohol than I’m used to. Mum and Dad weren’t at home as they, with Bill and Grandma, were probably having a slap up breakfast in the Hotel in Porlock before Bill and Da in Molly sailed while Mum and Gran drove back over the border to Wales, Cardiff and home…. Job number one then was to sort out dinner for their arrival at about 6 this evening.

That was enough thinking for now my body announced so I finished my tea and headed for a shower. With the water gently massaging my bruised brain cells I visualised the wreck dive I’d made off Cardiff which had amazed me with the richness of growth on the wreck compared to what appeared to be the barren mud it lay on. There wasn’t much time before I set sail with Dumblebit from Plymouth toward Madeira - about 3 months or 13 weeks I calculated - but once I modelled the wet suit I’d just been measured for it would be mine for a knockdown price and I determined to use it to complete my open water diving tests. The modelling job in Milford Haven was less than 2 weeks away so I could complete my qualifying dives.

Brunch is an ugly word for what is a very civilised meal when not spoiled by a looming list of jobs to be completed. Beth, despite having already had a bowl of cereals earlier, joined me nibbling whatever fruit and toast she could snaffle from my plate and looking at her cheeky smile I couldn’t object too strongly.

“Have you any plans for this summer’s school holidays?” I asked, not expecting too much in the way of constructive response.

“Well the Thursday night fitness class is going well enough that I wondered if I could copy it and earn some money giving my own classes.”

“If this were London or Los Angeles there would be rich people wanting personal trainers but in Cardiff the idea of being bullied into exercising by a 16 year old might be an option before its time. The careers advisor at your school will almost certainly be able to help you find a paying job at a gym or fitness centre or it might even be possible for you to be a ‘busking’ fitness instructor around the city. For instance, do you think you could do zumba sessions around the millennium centre or in Bute Park? That would need council approval of course but I'm sure your school could put you in touch with the right people to get permission."

Why I thought of those suggestions I don't know but they did seem to be received enthusiastically by Beth. It would be her first summer trying to find work and maybe any idea was welcome to someone faced with the blank impenetrable wall of the adult work world.

Paying work was something I too still needed so after breakfast I cycled down to the marina to see what could be hustled. With my head cleared I felt both on top of the world and ridiculous. Here I was off to hustle hourly manual work while being both a television presenter and the Non-Executive Director Of Arianrhod Development. That didn’t include the work I did for Da or the odd bit of modelling work. Life wasn’t supposed to be like this!

Without knowing if it were realistic I had been tempted to see if I could create a job for Beth with Arianrhod but was dissuaded by already feeling uncomfortable with the authority I had over Serena and Penny. If I were my mother I might have suggested Beth apply for an office job over the summer that offered support to those going on to study accountancy. Then again I'd read much accountancy work these days was being done by computers so that might not offer the secure path it had provided for my mother.

Luckily by the time I ran into the brick wall of the inherent contradictions of capitalism I'd reached the marina and volunteered myself to help a harassed mother of two over-excited young children push a wonky-wheeled provision-filled trolley down the floating walkway to meet her husband on their yacht where he was trying to stop their dog jump overboard to greet his playmates. Synchronicity is a wonderful thing as my need for work coincided with their realisation that to prevent future disaster they needed to create a a safe netting cage using the yacht’s lifelines.. If it had been the job of replacing the lifelines I would have had a conflict of interest as I worked for Ian the rigger but I could after my normal work custom weave what amounted to a fishing net around their boat for the cost of suitable line and my labour. Result!

A phone call to Mum's mobile was answered by Grandma Tina as the two of them were at that moment preparing to take a break on the drive home by stopping off in Bristol to see an old friend.

“Bill says that he and your father might be late getting back but I’d like to surprise him with a get together for as many of the family as possible at the marina restaurant for dinner at 7 o’clock.”

“Do I detect news Gran? Did you enjoy Porlock so much that you are immigrating to England?”

“It was a lovely place but the dinner is just because seeing how much Bill enjoys being part of a family was a wake up to remind me we should all make the most of our family. Can you make it and get Beth to come too?”

“We’ll be coming Grandma. I assume Mum will come here first to change and pick us up so I’ll make sure we are both ready for 6:30. Will you phone Aunt Sophie or shall I?”

Gran pooh-poohed any suggestion that she couldn’t handle one of the new fangled mobile phones and I wasn’t brave enough to argue. Luckily that morning I had only taken some homemade minestrone soup out of the freezer and arriving back at the house I found Beth was more than happy to share it with me for lunch although she couldn’t resist commenting that it was the only soup she had ever seen that required a knife and fork.

Straight after lunch Beth disappeared to ‘go hang’ with her friends while I lay in the garden listening to a radio program about James Cook. His father was an educated but not rich Scot and he himself was born in North Yorkshire so not part of any monied or aristocratic elite. Early sailing was as an apprentice on sailing colliers running coal between Newcastle and London as well as trips into the Baltic and only when he completed his apprenticeship did he join the Royal Navy where he made a name for himself through his navigation skills based on his interest and skill in mathematics.

I got the feeling I would have liked the man and he did in time become popular with his crew as he made their health a priority loosing far fewer men to things like scurvy than was usual at the time. On his first circumnavigation made, as far as the navy was concerned, to both observe and get precise readings of the transit of Venus across the face of the sun as seen in Tahiti, and to search out a theorised southern continent; he was joined by the very rich botanist Joseph Banks. It was a perfect match. The ship Endeavour was one of the colliers Cook had started out on and Banks put together a team of the best botanists in the world who were stunningly successful in their observations while Cook was literally mapping the world. When they returned to England it was Banks who got the acclaim (money talks) but between them they had utterly changed the picture of the world for European eyes.

I couldn’t help but draw parallels between Banks and Bill but I was no James Cook having only marginal sailing skills. The best I would be able to do was bring a fresh eye to the world and share that view, if possible, through Litara’s documentary series. As a presenter I doubted they expected any input from me as to the content but listening to Cook's story I determined to report what I saw as honestly as possible instead of just letting script writers put words into my mouth.

Sunday afternoons run on their own time line and only after Mum and Grandma returned, effortlessly managing their change of clothes and titivation while shuttling backward and forward between the two houses, could I push Beth, who had got back home later than she promised, into wearing something more suitable than jeans. I on the other hand was definitely feeling summery after my afternoon in the garden and ready to make the most of a dinner out so my choice was a long boho summer dress.

My father it seems was in on the surprise dinner and, using a level of subterfuge on Bill of which I did not know he was capable, he managed to get the two of them to look presentable on entering the restaurant only a minute or two after the rest of our motley crew including Sophie, Jack, Matthew and Mark.

To be continued