Ships

Given that we've got a smashing view of the Atlantic Ocean from our windows ...

... we're quite often asked "Do you ever see any ships going past?"

The answer to that is "occasionally, but not that often." About once a month, maybe, on average. And they're invariably so far away that they're just specks on the horizon - you can see them with the naked eye but for any kind of detail, I need to get out the "oculor" (= binoculors with one side broken. I refuse to buy another set as long as the remaining "oculor" continues to function perfectly well even if I do look like someone not quite right who's been let out for the afternoon when I'm using them (it)).

The ships we see are also invariably container ships. Shipping these days is terribly dull compared with previous decades. When I was a boy, the cargo ships that plied the oceans looked like this:-

Picture credit David Christie

They were generally built at Glasgow, registered at London and emptied their bilge oil into the pristine waters of some foreign port and if the natives dared to complain, they got a stiffly worded rebuke from the British Consul for their trouble (Col. Gaddafi please take note.)

But nowadays, the ships we see from our windows look like this:-

Picture credit Dominic Winsor

Built in Korea and registered in Panama, they're doubtless very efficient and economical in terms of stuff shifted per unit load but they need a risk assessment before they flush the lav and are generally lacking in eight bells and top masts.

Actually it's a coincidence the googled picture above is a CMA-CGM ship because we saw one of theirs going past here once, the letters on the hull being big enough to make out with the oculor. It's a big French shipping company and I went to their website and was able to work out from their schedules where it was going from and to. (It was news to me that container ships operate to schedules like car ferries.) I can't remember now exactly where but the screen grab below from Google Earth suggesting Le Havre from somewhere in South America rings a bell:-

From somewhere in the southern states of the USA ( I believe Savannah, Georgia is quite a big port) to the Straits of Gibraltar is also a candidate for passing our front door:-

I'm quite glad the passing ships don't get too close, though. A container ship called the CP Valour suffered engine failure off the Azores in 2005 and ran aground on the north coast of Faial. It couldn't be towed off and there was the inevitable release of fuel oil and many of the containers were knocked off and washed ashore (although no BMW motorbikes to be looted off the beach by the natives as with that ship - MSC Napoli, I think - that went aground on Cornwall (England) a couple of years ago and caused a lot of extra work for Her Majesty's Receiver of Wrecks in the public education arena).

The official salvors of the CP Valour didn't have much luck either. They spent months removing the remaining containers and the superstructure of the ship with a view to lightening the load to be able to refloat the hull and tow it away for salvage but, as I recall, they got the hull off but it sank into deep water barely a kilometre or so off the coast!

 

Of course, the CP Valour wasn't the first ship to be wrecked on the Azores. In 1909, the Cunard liner Slavonia was steaming east across the Atlantic from New York bound for Trieste when it is said that some of the passengers, keen to sight the Azores, asked the captain to alter course. The request was acceeded to but they ended up getting a closer view than they bargained for:-

 

This was at Lajedo on the south west coast of Flores. There was no loss of life but it's said that all the houses on Flores dating from this era - and No 5 Rua da Assomada must fall into this category - have floors made from wood salvaged from the Slavonia. Whether that's true or not, I don't know, but here's a sample of our floors in case there are any shipping woodwork afficionados out there who can spot a decent bit of fin de siecle Cunard when they see it:-

 

 More recently, in 1965, a ship called the Papadiamandis was wrecked right here at Faja Grande while en route between New Orleans and Hamburg:-

Recognise anyone? More pictures of that event at Memorias d'um Povo which is a great source of old pictures of Flores.

 

STOP PRESS - I started writing this last night and what happens this evening but a ship went by, passing from west to east. First time this year, I think - maybe the second. Photo below - even zoomed to the 12x limit of my camera, you'll have to take my word for it that that's a fully laden container ship:-

Cheese

What's your favourite cheese?

Perhaps it's brie - with a soft oozing texture and a slight yellowish tint (from the carotene absorbed by the cow from the meadow grass and hay in its diet) served with sliced apple, fig jam and a glass of Pinot Grigio.

Beloved of surrender monkeys everywhere

Or perhaps you can't resist stilton, in great buttery rounds, blue-veined, crumbly and sharp tasting inside a pitted crust? [I got that Hugh Fearnley Filling Station buttery blue veined guff by googling "pretentious description of stilton" and needless to say the Guardian (British newspaper for middle class lefties) came top but I enjoyed the fact that the stilton article went to say "The French may think they are on to something with Roquefort, but that is mere salty slime when set against a good stilton."]

Personally, my favourite cheese is Kraft Singles - there is nothing quite so gratifying as peeling back that gossamer thin cellophane and popping a flacid orange slice into your mouth in a oner. ("Pop", whether transitive or intransitive, is a verb I normally tend to eschew but there is just no other word to describe the act of ingesting a Kraft Single.)

Hence it was a matter of no little regret when we discovered that they don't sell Kraft Singles on this island. Lately, however, there has been a slight improvement in the situation in that a company called LactAçores from São Miguel has begun making "singles" out of local Azorean cheese.

Now you may say why don't we just buy a piece of local cheese and cut it into slices? But that's missing the point completely: you can't manually slice cheese to the required thin-ness and, anyway, being wrapped in cellophane and chilled for lengthy periods imparts a delicate fragrance rather in the way that Scotch Whisky acquires its distinctive character from being matured in old sherry casks.

Sorry but we'd troughed all the slices before I remembered to take the photo!

Anyway, we road-tested the local product at lunch today and rated it against various indicators including:-

# - gossamer thin-ness of cellophane wrapping - verdict: not gossamer enough, rather more the consistency of the impossible to get off wrapper of a DVD. And a real KS comes in a cellophane envelope whereas these were just sandwiched between sheets. Tacky. 4 out of 10.

# - adhesion of Single to wrapping - verdict: a real KS is difficult to detach from its wrapper in one piece. These almost literally fell away from the cellophane. Room for improvement. 5/10.

Carol's approach was somewhat less scientific and she summed them up thus: "Not very good, really - they taste like actual cheese."

Quite.

Japan: Scotland stands ready

The legendary late Scottish rugby commentator, Bill MacLaren, often used to allude to a scorer's club - either its town or the name of its home ground - in terms such as "They'll be cheering in the streets of Galashiels tonight!" or "They'll be pulling a few pints at Netherdale tonight!".

 
Well, in the true BMacL fashion, I can tell you there must have been a few sighs of relief being breathed in Fukushima this morning when they woke up to the news on the Scottish soi disant Government's website:-

Hyslop comments on earthquake in Japan - External Affairs Minister confirms Scotland stands ready to assist

You can picture the scene in the corridors of power in Tokyo, can't you: "Get on the phone to the Central Bank and get them to cancel that injection of 15 trillion yen to stabilise the markets, Scotland is standing ready to assist!! Aieeee!!!"

But the sighs and aieeees emanating from the Land of the Rising Sun were as naught compared with the expostulations and splutterings emanating from 5 Rua da Assomada this morning when I discovered that Scotland has an External Affairs Minister. And who is this Hyslop person in charge of this non-existent portfolio - is he or she perhaps also in charge of Scottish diamond production and the gorilla population of the Cairngorms ...?

Alex told me to give you this

Turns out it's none other than fat Fiona who, if memory serves, used to be the Minister for something slightly more relevant to Scotland (but I'm not interested enough to look up what it was) who was sacked for incompetences too numerous to mention. So presumably getting External Affairs is the Scottish equivalent of the Chiltern Hundreds.

It's worth having a look at the website to see what exactly it is the Scottish soi disant Government is pledging to Japan:-

* The Scottish Government is working closely with the UK Government to monitor the situation in Japan and the surrounding region  (The government will be reassured by this.)

* The Scottish Government is sharing information with the FCO regarding individuals who may be missing or unaccounted for ("Aberdeen man drowned at sea")

* The Scottish Government is in contact with the Japanese Consul General's office in Scotland and have confirmed an offer to assist where we the Scottish Government can ("Get off the f*cking line, we've got more important things to deal with than you saddoes grandstanding on the world stage ...")

* Scottish Development International is in touch with Scottish businesses in Japan (Ditto)

* The Scottish Government stands ready to consider any requests for support 

That last one could be interesting - "Ah, Salmon San (said in a Burt ("Tenko") Kwouk everyhere east of Mandalay accent.) you have 1.3 trillion Yen to stabilise Japan stock market?"

 Salmon San : "Well (said in a fat Scottish git with delusions of grandeur accent) we do have an underspend of £4.63 on the Cumnock wheelie-bin initiative, if that would be of any use..." 

To be a bit serious for a minute (must we? yes), I'd like to know how much a British local authority (which is what the Scottish soi disant Government is) has spent on maintaining a "Minister for External Affairs" and presumably a huge secretariat to support her in a role the authority has no legal jurisdiction over whatsoever.

It makes me cross. I feel another Freedom of  Information enquiry coming on (said in "take one of your pills, dear" tone of voice). I've a notion it was Fiona Hyslop I had to write to find out how much they'd spent sending people to London to have meetings about repatriating the William Wallce archives.

"For as long as but 100 of us remain alive, we shall engage with key stakeholders ...

And don't get me started on Libya ....

Spelling Shane Ritchie

It's been drawn to my attention that Shane actually spells his surname Richie. Without a "t". So does Lionel.

But that's just plain silly because, in both Shane and Lionel's cases, it's pronounced "Ritchie" like the word "rich" with "ie" on the end. Whereas if you leave out the "t" it becomes "Richie" with the "ch" pronounced like the Scottish word "loch" (as in Loch Ness). And Lionel/Shane Ri-ch[Loch]y sounds daft.

People who can't spell their own names really annoy me. Particularly people with too many letters in their name. Conspicuous offenders are Myleene Klass (which looks like it ought to be pronounced Myl-EEEEEEEEEEE-ne) and Jamie Foxx (Focks-sicks).

And what is this art dealer in Dundas Street, Edinburgh all about?

Eating Shane Ritchie

We had Shane Ritchie for tea tonight.

Not the ipsa corpora of Shane, obviously, but Shane's Penne Pollo Arrabiata. It's a recipe he's fond of rustling up, according to Hello! mag (although I suspect Shane had about as much input into it as he has into Egyptian foreign policy).

Whatever (as I expect Shane said to the girl from Hello! when he realised they were phoning about putting his name on a pasta recipe rather than a cover spread about his lovely home), Penny-Whatsname-Arabia-Whatsname is a bit of a mouthful to say (never mind swallow - ho ho!) so when I ask what we're having for tea and that's what it is, Carol says "We're having Shane Ritchie".

The other night we had Kenny Logan. That's lasagne and we've even been known to have Sir Steven Redgrave's Baked Penne with Dolcelatte and Radicchio - which is too much of mouthful in every department, it would appear, because when I asked why we haven't had Steve for a bit, Carol replied with characteristic succinctness: "It gives me the skitters."

Celebrity recipes would be good material for a round on "I'm Sorry I Haven't a Clue". Do you have a favourite one? Do leave a comment if you do. Bit of breast, Kat?

(Sorry - this will be meaningless to non-UK readers)

Atrasado por causa de mau tempo

Distracted by mouthing off about security at Heathrow, I said we travelled back to Flores by four simple steps but actually it was more complicated than that.

On arrival at Terceira, we were informed that flights to Flores had already been cancelled that day due to the weather there. We could fly on to Horta on Faial in hope of a plane to Flores the following day or stay on Terceira for a flight two days hence. Well I had to admire SATA-Air Acores for offering the choice but the Horta option was a no-brainer.

Picture credit Joao Toste

On arrival at Horta, there seemed to be a brief chance that they'd be flying on to Flores after all - we were directed through the transit channel and given the prized green card which entitles you to board ahead of people joining the flight at Horta. But this proved illusory and when the flight was officially cancelled 30 minutes later, the green card merely meant that we were at the end of the queue for hotel vouchers.

SATA-Air Acores put us up at the Hotel do Faial but first there was a nonsense getting away from the airport. A bus into town with 30 seats had been laid on to convey 50 Flores passengers. Naturally, this is a situation which has never been encountered before so that "can-do" attitude the Portuguese are so noted for was very much in evidence. (I'm being ironic here if the ghost of Henry the Navigator or any Americans are reading this.)

Anyway, we arrived at the hotel in time for lunch and jolly tasty it was too. Actually the enforced stop in Horta was a bit of a coup as it gave us the opportunity to schlep up to Modelo which is the Portuguese equivalent of Asda. There was no celery on the shelves but I got a very nice shirt for €9.95. That's my kind of shirt and so good that I went back to Modelo later to get another one in blue. I'm wearing it as I type this. Normally, cheap shirts I buy (i.e. all shirts I buy) have to be washed about 155 times before they're comfy enough to wear but this one's fine straight off.

Hotel do Faial

Dinner at the Hotel do Faial was very acceptable too - buffet with big meaty hot bits and nice salady cold bits. You can't get nasty. Next morning, we made a point of being early to board the 30 seater bus to the airport but it was of little avail as today's flight to Flores was eventually cancelled as well. So back to the Hotel do Faial again - this time in the cab of the lorry laid on to carry the luggage!

By dinner time on the second day, the Hotel do Faial was occupied by a further planeful of passengers trying to get to Flores. There was the post-mistress at Lajes and the pharmacist at Sta Cruz and if this carried on, then eventually all key personnel would be holed up in the HdF and normal services on Flores breaking down alarmingly. But all we could do was look mournfully at each other with a sort Dunkirk "what can you do?" spirit and nip up for another helping of pudding when you thought no-one was looking.

On Day 3, having had the foresight to bag a seat to the airport in the cab of the luggage lorry again, the flight got away to Flores. SATA-Air Acores had to lay on not one but TWO of their Bombardier Dash 8 Q-400s to transport eveybody. All in all, despite some minor irritations, I would say SATA-AA dealt with the situation pretty well. I think Henry the Navigator would give them 6 and a half out of 10.

Airport security

We travelled home from our annual Christmas and New Year visit to Scotland last week by the usual stages: Day 1 - A Scottish airport (Glasgow as it happened) to London Heathrow and then LHR to Lisbon; overnight in Lisbon then, Day 2 - LIS to an Azorean island served by direct flights from LIS (Terceira as it happened) and then TER to Flores via a stop at Horta on Faial.

Flores Airport

Now everyone's favourite travel bugbear is, of course, airport security. Let's look first at how they did it in Portugal. We went through the usual security checkpoint at Lisbon Airport. Then, when we arrived at Terceira Airport (which does not belong to the same company as LIS), because we were transit passengers for an onward flight, we went through a different door from the people ending their journey at TER. This kept us "airside" so that we didn't need to pass through security again before boarding our next flight to Flores. (If we'd accidentally gone through the wrong door, then of course we'd have needed to pass through security again.)

Terceira Airport - photo credit alfonsotrinidad

This all seems a perfectly sensible way of doing things so let's contrast it with how it's done in the UK. We pass through security at Glasgow Airport and then, despite following the transit passengers channel at Heathrow - an airport which also belongs to BAA plc, the same company as owns GLA - you have to go through security again!

This leads me ineluctably (as we lawyers are fond of saying even though we don't know what it means) to one of two conclusions - either the LHR security staff don't trust the GLA security staff to do their job properly or else BAA plc can't trust themselves to design an airport whereby transit passengers are kept isolated on the airside. Which is it? I think we should be told.