An Officer and a Gentleman Wanted: A Romantic Comedy
Page 3
I hurriedly get on the phone to the Commodore’s PA, grovelling apology at the ready.
Fortunately the Commodore’s up in London until Monday so I breathe a sigh of relief and resolve to ban all physical GTKU exercises from the classroom.
Maybe I should extend that to outside the classroom too – just in case.
1530 Still missing 6 Qataris.
1630 John gets a phone call from HMS Raleigh in Cornwall asking if we know anything about ‘training some Arabs.’
Turns out they’ve gone to the wrong establishment.
Oh well, at least it confirms that they are actually in the Country…
John organizes a mini bus to go and collect them from Raleigh and bring them back to BRNC.
1700 All the tests are locked up in my office and ready to go for tomorrow. I think it’s time for a quick drink – the Cherub is calling. I head down the hill with Caroline and John and 15 minutes later we’re walking into the welcoming dimness of Dartmouth’s oldest pub.
A glass of wine and a portion of chips – complete with mayonnaise and tomato ketchup.
It’s the small things that make life worth living.
Friday 11 September
0830 It’s been a long week.
The language school is quiet as the teachers have all gone off to oversee the English language tests, done in one of the larger classrooms off The Corridor.
We only have 34 students but it takes every teacher we have to ensure that each cadet’s contribution is entirely his own. Past experience has taught us that “I help my friend” is a very common concept.
They have their Reading, Writing and Listening tests in the morning which leaves all afternoon for the one to one Speaking tests.
And then all hands on deck – nobody goes home until the tests have been marked and the cadets put into the appropriate levels.
In theory, all International Cadets are supposed to have a certain level of English to be accepted into language training at BRNC, otherwise they have no hope of reaching the standard required to undergo Officer Training with the British Cadets.
In theory…
1230 Ok, all the morning tests completed. There was no reported conferring (mostly because the room used can comfortably accommodate around 80 people so we were able to seat them all at least 10 feet apart).
I dish out the completed papers to all the teachers not conducting the speaking tests this afternoon and we head en mass to have a fortifying lunch.
It’s going to be a long afternoon.
1245 The Wardroom is always busy on Friday lunchtime. Officers like to come in for their fish and chips before heading back home to their families for the weekend (and as most College functions take place on a Thursday evening, the grease helps to soak up the alcohol consumed the night before…)
The College generally resembles the Marie Celeste on a Friday afternoon.
Normally I try to avoid the fish and chips but decide today to throw caution to the winds and go the whole hog with the lame excuse that I need the ‘brain food.’ However, I decide to put a bit of salad on my plate to give it a bit more colour.
It’s called denial.
1830 5 hours later all the tests are marked and the students grouped according to their English level.
All of them that is apart from one.
It turns out that our resident Royal really does have the English language level of a bog brush…
I sigh.
Thank God it’s the weekend.
Sunday 13 September
2100 Sitting with a well deserved glass of wine.
As far as the weekend goes, NTR (Nothing To Report –just had to get that in…)
In other words pretty normal really. Went for a spot of retail therapy yesterday although it didn’t really provide much in the way of therapy as I only went in to Torquay which is the retail equivalent of the Gobi Desert.
Had lunch at the Boathouse today with my sister Jackie – it’s the nearest thing we’ve got to a local. It’s on the beach, so we get to walk the dogs and have a reward for our efforts.
Like me, my sister’s divorced. Her marriage broke up when her husband had an affair 10 years ago (“You’ve got to realise Jackie that I have a new life now – you need to go out and get one for yourself.”)
Like that’s possible with kids of 10 and 3.
So, Sunday lunch time we drink wine, assess the week and bitch about anything and everything.
It’s all very therapeutic.
And Sunday night is family night with all 3 generations taking part. Everyone sits around the table at either my sister’s or mine and basically whoever shouts the loudest gets heard.
I love it.
Tonight it was at mine and Frankie did the dinner. As I said earlier, Frankie’s idea of cooking basically involves using every pan and dish in the kitchen and leaving me to clear up the wreckage.
Always tastes good though – her long term ambition is to own her own café and I think she’d do brilliantly, (providing she has a dishwasher that doesn’t include me).
I did actually think briefly about suggesting she apply for a job going at BRNC but really don’t think they’d get on.
Frankie’s idea of pomp and ceremony is to avoid breaking wind in public!
So now I’m enjoying a few minutes of peace and quiet before bed. Everyone’s left and it’s just me and Nelson.
I think about Rob and wonder if he really could be Mr Right finally turning up on cue.
Week 2 should be interesting…
Chapter Two: Undercover Royal
Week 2
Monday 14 September
0745 So here we are, Monday of Week 2 and I’m in the office early – all fired up and ready.
This is when the real training starts. We now have 13 weeks to get the International Officer Cadets ready to undertake the Royal Navy’s Young Officer Course commencing in January.
I feel a bit sick and wonder what on earth we’re going to do with His Royal Highness. His father’s not just any old sheikh (believe me there are lots of those). This one’s the brother to the King.
Bloody defence diplomacy…
I’m going to have to report the issue asap to Commander NTE – really it’s his problem.
Problem is he prefers it to be mine.
0750 I get a phone call from the PTIs at the gym. It seems that only 3 of the cadets have turned up for their fitness test.
Surprise surprise…
I phone John’s mobile; luckily he’s on his way in – he’ll drag the rest of the sleeping beauties out of bed.
I decide it’s time for my first caffeine fix. I have an unfinished packet of ginger nuts in my drawer and Nelson’s not going to leave me alone until I give him one. He may be a croissant short of a continental breakfast in most things, but he’s a veritable blood hound when it comes to scenting out biscuits!
1030 Ok, all students have finished their fitness tests and are now in their correct classrooms with their correct teachers – it’s time to rock and roll…
Think I’ll go for another coffee.
1100 I come back to a bit of a commotion. One of the Qataris is refusing to walk past Nelson on the off chance that the crazed beast might jump up and bite him.
The culprit is sitting on the floor regarding the cadet with his tail wagging furiously.
I drag him back into my office admonishing him sternly – he knows he’s not to wander around the language school on his own (Nelson that is, not the cadet…)
1130 I have a meeting with Commander NTE which I’m really not looking forward to.
I sit chatting with his PA for a few minutes while he finishes up with his 11o’clock; takes me back to my school days and being sent to sit outside the Headmaster’s office (not that it happened that regularly). A lot of the naval officers I’ve met have a tendency to actually sound like my old headmaster – although in fairness I remember him being red haired and balding and I have to admit that the current Commander NTE is re
ally quite attractive.
Just need to remember I’m not one of his sailors…
1230 I head down to the Wardroom for lunch – and not just salad. Preferably something with chips.
The meeting with Commander NTE did not go well.
He knows it’s not my fault that HRH’s English is not only not good enough to get him onto a Military English language course, it isn’t actually good enough to ask for a hamburger in McDonalds.
And I know it’s not his.
Unfortunately we haven’t really got anyone else we can bitch to.
Maybe HRH will be a quick learner!
Tentative murmurs hinting our concerns will be made to his Embassy.
Hope the Ambassador’s English is a bit better…
1300 Eaten a suitably stodgy lunch known in posh Military Circles as ‘cheesy, hammy, eggy’ (pretty self explanatory) and finishing off with a fruit tea in an effort to stave off the resulting indigestion which I know is on its way any minute now.
Rob is sitting with a group of officers in the cluster of easy chairs adjacent to me and although I keep my eyes glued determinedly to my newspaper, I can feel that he keeps glancing over.
I wonder if he’s going to the Wardroom Happy Hour on Thursday.
Also wonder what he did at the weekend. Now the wife issue is out of the way, I really do need to check out possible partners and girlfriends. Oh God, what if he’s gay?
I glance up involuntarily to find him staring at me.
No, he’s definitely not gay.
Must be a sign…
Tuesday 15 September
0800 I called a staff meeting early this morning so we can get it in before the cadets arrive on the dot at 0830 (yeah right).
Quick first impressions?
All 8 Kuwait Navy Cadets and 7 of the Kuwait Coastguard seem to be taking the whole thing pretty seriously – might be because their authorities make them pay back the cost of the training if they fail…
8 Kuwait Coastguard seem to think it doesn’t matter whether they fail or not because their parents are so rich that they can pay back the training costs easily.
All 10 Qatar Coastguard prefer to believe they are at a finishing school for Middle Eastern aristocracy. (“What, you mean this is actually a military establishment?”)
And as for our incognito royal…
We decide immediately that HRH will need additional 1 to 1 coaching (really?) Particularly since his Embassy are either refusing to believe that a potential heir to the throne could be anything less than perfect in every way or admitting it could potentially see them whisked back home for 50 lashes and a 30 year stint digging drains in the desert!
There also appears to be another problem.
John says that HRH doesn’t know how to do up the buttons on his shirt – it appears he’s never had to do it before. Currently getting dressed in the morning is taking him over an hour and he ends up looking like an extra from a Norman Wisdom film.
And he doesn’t even know what an iron is.
This, I determine loudly (and even a little hysterically) is absolutely NOT our problem. The RN can handle it. I tell John to report the problem to Chief May (poetically known in military circles as Daisy).
“It’s not really his…” I cut him off before he can go any further by slamming down my notebook and glaring at him (I can do angry when I’m, well, angry.)
“I don’t care whether it’s his part of ship or not John, just do it.” (I think I’ve been here too long, I’m actually starting to sound like a naval officer).
John wisely decides not to pursue the subject – he can see I’m a little irate…
And that pretty much puts an end to the meeting. I gather my notes and sweep out of the room (I know it’s not ‘Gone With The Wind’, but sometimes a situation calls for a little drama.)
My exit would have been perfect if not for Nelson who’s lying across the doorway and decides to raise his head just as I’m stepping over him.
A dog’s nose up your skirt is so not Scarlett O’Hara!
1030 Stand Easy time. I can hear the cadets stamping down the corridor in anything but military precision – their Ceremonial Training should be fun, but at least we don’t have to do it.
I’m eternally grateful that our ‘part of ship’ is purely the language training.
I head down the Language School stairs and come out onto the flat area fronting the offices of the shakers and movers in the College – The Commodore who’s the overall head of the College; The Commander who’s responsible for the day to day running of the College and Commander Naval Training and Education who I have most to do with (lucky me) and who’s responsible for the Training and Education (obviously).
I’m just about to go down the next flight of stairs to take my chances on The Corridor when Rob emerges from Commander NTE’s office along with his opposite number – Cunningham Senior Squadron Officer (amazingly known as CSO). Did I mention that the 2 squadron heads work very closely together?
The new CSO is a woman…
And they’re laughing together.
Bugger – hope it’s not a sign.
I pretend that I haven’t seen them and hobble down the stairs as quickly as my heels will allow. Unfortunately it’s not quick enough and to top it all I lose my shoe on the second to last step.
Swearing under my breath I turn and limp back to the stupid thing just as they’re coming round the bend in the stairs.
“Hi Bev,” Rob calls and I glance up as if I’ve only just spotted them, holding up the offending shoe with a gay ‘look what silly me’s done’ laugh. I’m aiming for a sort of giggle but it comes out more as a cackle with a very unladylike snort at the end.
Why the bloody hell do I wear these things? That’s it, tomorrow I’m wearing trainers.
Rob gets to the bottom of the stairs just as I get my shoe back on and enthusiastically introduces me to the new CSO Anna.
She looks as happy to see me as I am to see her and after looking me up and down with an ‘Oh God not another civvy expression, (I can tell she’s not in the mood for an extended chat) she gives a quick nod and pulls Rob’s arm towards the Wardroom announcing that she ‘dying’ for a coffee.
“Coming Bev?” Rob calls over his shoulder as he’s being marched away.
There is absolutely no way that I can negotiate this floor at the speed they are going.
So I smile brightly and wave them on before heading in to the planning office opposite as though that had been my destination all along.
I’m quite happy to spend my Stand Easy bitching to Sarah.
1100 I come out of Sarah’s office with my good humour completely restored.
Turns out that one of the computer techs walked in on Jemma Matthews while she was shagging one of the officers over a desk in an unused office.
He thinks he might require therapy (the computer tech that is, not the officer).
The officer‘s more likely to be requiring a transfer…
1230 I decide against going to the Wardroom for lunch in the interests of (a) keeping myself slightly aloof and off limits to certain people and (b) my diet.
I swap my heels for sturdy walking boots and walk Nelson round the college grounds instead. Look a bit ridiculous with my suit and nylons but there’s no one to see me.
Unfortunately on my way back I run into Rob returning from the gym.
Bugger. So much for aloof and mysterious – very difficult to achieve when you’re wearing gum boots and dragging a 60lb Irish terrier.
He doesn’t laugh though and he does like dogs
It must be a sign…
1500 John has spoken to the Powers That Be about HRH’s problems dressing himself and it’s been decided to assign him a British Officer Cadet who will help show him the ropes (which presumably will include the basics in button fastening and ironing).
I wonder which poor sod has been nominated and exactly what he did to warrant it.
Wednesday 16 September
The cadets are not into class until after Stand Easy because they’re having their first boat driving lesson on the River Dart with Chief May.
Then the afternoon is given over to whole College sports. That means every cadet, including the Internationals.
While the cadets are on the river, we have a staff meeting to discuss the possibility of introducing more specific ‘military’ language into the 14 week curriculum.
One of the pivotal points in the cadets’ Officer Training is ABLE – an Assessed Basic Leadership Exercise conducted on Dartmoor. Basically the idea is that cadets are taken to one of the bleakest and most inhospitable places in the UK, pushed to their limits in terms of hunger and exhaustion in order to test their leadership mettle in adverse conditions (a bit like going to Morrison’s really…)
They carry rations, sleep outside for 3 days and spend each day tramping around Dartmoor carrying packs the size of a small pony, undertaking various training exercises during which they’re assessed and ultimately passed or failed.
If they fail, they might be given a second chance (depending on how catastrophic the failure was…)
But after that, a second failure is curtains as far as a career in the Royal Navy is concerned.
So pretty important really.
Obviously we want to be able to prepare the International Cadets as much as possible in terms of language for the challenges they’ll have to face.
So we’ve appealed to the RN Leadership Training Department to allow us to go up on to Dartmoor with the cadets to observe the training first hand. ABLE generally takes place in Week 7 which gives us 4 weeks grace to organize the trip.
Obviously we’ll only go up for the day – we really don’t need to experience the hunger and exhaustion bit. I’m really quite excited by the whole idea (obviously – it was mine).
For some reason the Leadership department don’t seem quite so thrilled…
1100 The International Cadets are trickling in less than enthusiastically after their first experience afloat. One of them in particular is looking very green (there aren’t any waves in the Gulf).