The engine in my chest

January 2, 2008 at 5:22 pm | Posted in Assistant Post Mistress, Journey | Leave a comment

12th December

There was a ship nearby all night. I could feel the engine in my chest, but no-one else did. No visitors until four today so porridge in bed. Helen is poorly, slumped on her pillows, Rick is up and at it, and I’m somewhere in-between. Start unpacking the stuff Helen carried up yesterday (during first part of egg count) and folding t-towels (they come in big clumps of ten) and straightening up lines of postcards. Helen, who should have stayed in bed, and I, go to boatshed to search for a rogue box hidden, we suspect, in the depths of third row back. Much humping and grunting on my part (very warming) and systematic diagram drawing (for future reference) on Helen’s. Find Large Steel Blue T-Shirts and reconfigure the stacks. Good job! Walk up through the gentle snow for a cup of something hot. Fold the new National Geographic satellite maps into quarters – the perfect task for a bookbinder and her bone-folder – and settle them into a slot on front counter. Fiddle about moving s tickers and books through from science room until curry soup for lunch. Type and type away (about a week behind) until battery runs out. Multanovskiy arrives on schedule. A ‘People to People’ charter, extra space filled with an assortment of passengers, including some booked on Explorer. Barbeque invite taken up by Rick and I, but Helen feels like a QNI, rather than talking outside on deck. We leave her with instructions to do nothing. Kind Tula sends me to the sauna for a shower, assuring me that it would be empty. Walk in naked and am greeted by a bathing-suited couple ooops. Chat, then scrub and lather. Straight out to prow for favourite steak, chorizo and salad. Talk with ex-BAS, NZ, Argentinian and Brits on holiday, also IPY stuff with Geoff. Drink gluwein until too cold and crew are hosing down the deck. The doctor has promised me a bath (in the medical room) next visit ha ha hurray. Into bar for a quick drink and then Geoff drives us home, laden with boxes for other Qu ark ships, a box of barbeque leftovers and a box full of DVDs to borrow. Helen’s fine. Out into the calm night for a pee. We heard a thunderous noise a few minutes ago; our protectrice iceberg is no more! Toppled and divided, it is reduced to two chunks and a welt of brash. Splash marks on landing site rocks indicate quite a wave. I’m sorry she’s gone. We can’t hide anymore.

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