But most unfortunate of all, she has a large burger in the hand she’s waving about which unbeknown to us, Nelson is eying with great interest.
Unintentionally, she thrusts the burger right under Nelson’s nose who consequently proceeds to take a big bite out of it!
For a couple of seconds both our tables are actually speechless with disbelief while Nelson chews and swallows his prize with complete relish and much smacking of lips.
This rivals the poo incident in the embarrassment stakes.
I can’t believe he’s done this to me twice in one week…
Suddenly, everyone starts talking at once. I apologise profusely and immediately offer to buy her another burger.
Nelson is shoved under the table in disgrace with Frankie’s foot on his head.
Luckily the couple are extremely understanding – it turns out they love dogs (even greedy and disobedient ones).
The incident also put a stop to their argument – who knows, Nelson might even have saved their relationship…
He ended up having the rest of the burger (as punishment…)
2300 Still no text. I’ve spent the night in my bedroom doing the whole ‘I want to be alone’ thing.
My uncaring children have spent the night completely ignoring my moping and watching ‘The X Factor’.
They didn’t even bring me any chocolate.
I’m so unloved…
Sunday September 27
1200 In the interests of providing some variety in my running routine (and because I’m too embarrassed to go back to the Boathouse after yesterday) Jackie and I decide to meet for lunch at the other end of the beach at a pub called ‘The Inn On The Quay’ (This is a seaside town so we’ve got lots of choice…)
I relate the events leading up to the weekend expecting a little sympathy but unfortunately Jackie is of a similar opinion that ‘desperation’ is very unattractive in a professional woman of the world (I think she was talking about me).
She tells me in no uncertain terms (i.e. forcefully) that I am a very attractive woman in her prime of life who really does not need a man to make her happy…
And guess what? She’s right.
I’ve survived quite well on my own since my divorce and for the most part, I’ve actually been pretty content. I have an amazing job, wonderful friends and incredible (if unsympathetic) children.
This brooding is just not me.
Maybe Rob is, or maybe he isn’t Mr Right, but whichever, I’m determined that from this moment on, I’m not going to agonize over it and allow it to dominate my every waking moment…
I feel like standing up and breaking into a rousing chorus of ‘I Am Woman’.
Instead we order a bottle of wine (definitely easier on the ear!) and talk about Prince Andrew’s forthcoming visit to the College and what I’m going to wear to meet him…
You know what? My life really is actually pretty damn good…
Chapter Four: Champagne and Sheep Dips
Week 4
Monday 28 September
0800 I’ve just got back from my first training session of the week. I can’t even begin to describe the pain of getting out of bed at 6am this morning to get to the College at 7. Nelson looked at me as though I’d lost the plot (really beginning to think he might be right).
Still, mustn’t lose sight of the objectives:
1. Looking like a gorgeous babe (ok maybe babe is stretching it a bit – I’ll go for gorgeous sophisticated glamorous woman in her prime...) when I meet Prince Andrew.
2. Completing the Commando Challenge in 5 days time without having to be resuscitated on site.
Think I’ll have a coffee before I start work and a slice of toast to go with it (I read somewhere that anything you eat within an hour of exercising is completely calorie free – might as well put in 2 slices.)
Just before heading to the language school kitchen I glance down at my mobile phone.
There’s a text message from Rob...
My heart lurches (it really does – I’m actually quite embarrassed after my declaration yesterday.)
I decide that he’ll just have to wait (being an independent woman who doesn’t need a man in her life). I am determined not to read it until I’ve had my coffee and toast...
0807 Result? I’ve now got indigestion.
I open the text, not sure what to expect...
Turns out Rob has finished with bimbo girlfriend. (I resist the idea of dancing round the room.)
He’s now feeling pretty low (step in sophisticated glamorous woman in her prime to take his mind of it...)
He apologised for not texting me back and hopes I’ll forgive him. AND HE ENDS IT WITH A KISS.
So, now need to play this very carefully...
Show sympathy and understanding to ensure that he knows what a caring sharing person I am...
...but not too much – don’t want him to moping around and thus not taking advantage of the opportunity that’s right in front of his nose.
I settle for a short text saying how sorry I am and if he needs someone to talk to, I’m more than happy to listen (I know, bit clichéd but couldn’t think of anything else!)
1030 Time for Stand Easy. I’ve made an extra special effort to look good today and you know what? I think I’ve actually lost a couple of pounds...
I’m wearing a fitted black dress (don’t you just love black?) with knee high stiletto boots (makes me feel powerful and in control – you know, the whole ‘I Am Woman’ thing).
Need to walk a little slower than normal in my ‘Elvira Queen of the Night’ boots but that’s ok, it just means I’ll make a bit of an entrance...
1105 Only saw Rob from a distance but he smiled over and nodded his head (practically a date – did I mention I’m an optimist...?)
And (yet more excitement!) HMS Argyll is visiting Dartmouth this coming Thursday. There’s to be a cocktail party on board and I’m on the attendance list – woo hoo. (God I love working here.)
1430 I’ve just been informed that the visit to Saudi is definitely going ahead. The letter of invitation will be winging its way to both me and Commander NTE by the end of the week and the visit is scheduled for early November – eek.
Still, at least I won’t have to worry about what clothes to pack – everything will be hidden inside the long black thingy I’ll be wearing (actually called an ‘abaya’)
1615 Rob just texted back to ask if I fancy popping up to his office tomorrow for a coffee – I will of course accept but definitely for coffee only (no French Fancies) – need to play it cool for a bit...
What on earth am I going to wear? Sometimes life’s just so complicated.
2230 I can’t actually get into bed because it’s entirely covered in clothes.
Frankie has been completely indifferent to my wails of “I’ve got nothing to wear.” No sympathy from mum either and Jackie simply laughed when told of my dilemma and informed me (a little heartlessly I thought) that my wardrobe resembles the inside of Dorothy Perkins! (I’m sure she only meant the one in Torquay...)
And to top it all, Nelson has just made himself comfortable on top of my best black suit leaving ginger dog hairs all over the jacket.
How did I end up with such an uncaring family.
Ok, there’s no panic, I just need to sit and think for a while and the perfect outfit will come to me (it’s not that I’m shallow you understand...)
Think a glass of wine will help with the decision!
2335 I’m finally in bed with my chosen ensemble hanging on the outside of the wardrobe. I’ve gone for my fitted grey suit which actually fits me perfectly (even done up) and shows off my curves...
Can’t wait for tomorrow.
Tuesday 29 September
0800 I decided (in the interests of not being hot red and sweaty when I go for coffee with Rob of course) to miss this morning’s exercise session. Of course I didn’t tell the Royal Marine PTI exactly that when he phoned to find out what my excuses were. They went m
ore along the lines of a possible sprained ankle. Unfortunately he’s now booked me in with the College physio...
Not yet sure how I’m going to get out of that one.
Still I’m not going to dwell on the problem. Live for the moment as they say. And my moment calls for a ginger nut – a moment that Nelson roundly applauds.
1030 One last look in the mirror and I’m ready. I actually feel a bit nervous. This will be the first time we’ve really spoken together alone. What if we have nothing in common?
Well there’s only one way to find out. I tell Nelson to be a good boy (which he acknowledges with a particularly loud snore) and head out of my office.
1115 Good news or bad news...?
Good news – we seemed to have loads in common – including the fact that we actually share the same birthday, 21 May.
Bad news – Our actual dates of birth are 10 years apart.
Bugger!
He doesn’t look 10 years younger than me but that just might be the grey hair...
And to be fair, he didn’t flinch when I reluctantly admitted the year I was born – I could see him doing the sums in his head though.
Plus he’s got a boat (and we’re not talking rubber dinghy here – more a bloody great 45 foot yacht).
He asked me if I sailed....
I said I’d like to learn (in the same way that I’d like to Climb Mount Everest…)
Anyway, yachts and age differences aside, he’s going to the cocktail party on Thursday; who knows what might happen.
1715 Sitting in the ferry queue after spending the last 45 minutes with the physio.
If my ankle wasn’t sore this morning, it certainly is now – this is what happens when vanity gets the better of you.
Wednesday 30 September
0630 We’re only at the end of September and I can’t believe it’s already dark, wet and cold. Of course it could just be that I don’t normally venture out into the College grounds quite so early in the morning – certainly not to run up and down ‘Cardiac Hill’ (as it’s quaintly referred to by the cadets).
To be fair not even the most short-sighted observer would have called my effort this morning a run; pretty much resembled a stagger – I think our Royal Marine might have given up on me.
1400 I’ve just had a call from a PTI to inform me that one of the Qatari Coastguard hasn’t turned up for sports afternoon. I resisted the temptation to say ‘What, only one?’ and send John over to his cabin to check he’s not gone to bed (the cadet that is, not John…)
1420 Our loafer’s been found in the Sick Bay - always the third place we look, after their bed and the Naafi; the International Cadets seem to regard the waiting room in sick bay as an impromptu rest area, getting them out of whatever activity they don’t want to participate in (there are a lot of those) in the guise of suffering from whatever illness is currently fashionable (could be anything from acute pneumonia to a brain tumour depending on which website they’ve been on recently).
He is now waiting outside my office for the obligatory ticking off. I’m really going to have to get more creative with my punishments.
Is it time to go home yet...?
Thursday 1 October
0800 I left Nelson at home this morning – Cocktail parties on board warships and Irish terriers definitely not a good mix! I’m staying on board so given Frankie the pleasure of him tonight.
Which means I’ll have the luxury of a 2 foot lumpy mattress all to myself – lucky me.
I really wanted to get out of training this morning but decided at the last minute that martyrdom was a good idea on this occasion for 2 reasons:
1. I’ve only got one more day before possible very public humiliation.
2. I may well be encouraged to eat and drink more this evening than is appropriate for my daily allowance of calories! Plus I may be rendered incapable of undertaking the last training session tomorrow morning.
So, suffering concluded for today, I am now showered and ready to get the day over with and jump straight to the sins of the night (not really sure how much sinning I’ll have the opportunity to do but I live in hope...)
Really hope we don’t have any major problems today.
0930 First major problem. Another of the Qatari Coastguard has not turned up for class (have you noticed a disturbing pattern here...?) and after a thorough search of his cabin and his usual haunts (like I said, under the bed, in the Naafi, over at Sick Bay) it looks as though he’s done a bunk.
I blackmail one of the other cadets into giving me his mobile phone number (we should have already had it on file but they change their mobiles with the weather...) and call the absconder using his friend’s phone (devious or what) which of course cons him into answering.
I don’t waste time; merely tell him if he’s not in my office in the next 15 minutes, I will quite simply chain him to his desk.
Once the shock of hearing my voice wears off, the cadet earnestly informs me that he is on his way to my office as we speak.
0940 No sign of cadet.
0945 No sign of cadet.
0950 Still no cadet. He has now had enough time to have got to my office on his hands and knees.
Something is definitely afoot…
Knowing that I’ve blown any chance of him answering his mobile phone to me again, I call his friend into my office and advise said friend to text our errant cadet and inform him that if he doesn’t call my office phone in the next 5 minutes, not only will he be banned from ever leaving the college again (probably for the rest of his life) but also his friend will suffer the same punishment (based on the fact that I know that his friend knows where he is but is refusing to let on...)
0955 My office phone rings and a breathless, totally contrite voice tells me a thousand apologies but that he is currently in Sick Bay with the flu.
Which of course I know he isn’t…
There is a noise in the background – it sounds like a train whistle.
“Are you on a train?” I ask incredulously
There’s slight silence on the other end of the phone as the culprit tries desperately to think of a way out (his English really is not that good).
In the end he offers another thousand apologies and informs me that he has been called to London to meet with his grandfather who is over from Qatar for the weekend.
“Ma’am,” He continues solemnly, “You must understand, I cannot go against the wishes of my grandfather.”
Now the usual route for International Cadets to apply for additional leave is through their Embassy.
We’ve had no such request from Rashid at the Qatar Embassy.
I inform the cadet that I will be contacting his Military Attaché immediately to confirm the truth of his statement.
There is a panicked “But ma’am,” on the other end of the line before I ruthlessly cut the call and briskly tell John to contact the Qatar Embassy.
1005 The Embassy has confirmed that not only is our cadet’s grandfather not in the country but that he has been dead for the last 10 years.
My subsequent text goes something like this:
Your embassy says that your grandfather is now with Allah so unlikely to be in London at the same time. I will expect you in my office first thing tomorrow morning. YOUR FATHER WILL BE INFORMED
That should do it. Time for Shareholders…
1725 I thought the day was never going to end. Freely admit I’ve not really been with the program (although reliably informed that our missing cadet is on his way back – I’ll reserve judgement for tomorrow morning).
I’m really looking forward to this evening. I give Sarah a quick call (of course she’s going) and grab my overnight bag before heading up to my cabin.
Everyone’s meeting in the Wardroom for pre-party drinks at 1815 so I really need to get my skates on.
I’m planning to wear trousers this evening as my experience of previous cocktail parties on warships has taught me a couple of dos and don’ts – for example…
Trousers are a must if you don’t want every Tom Dick and Harry sticking his head up your skirt as you negotiate treacherous ladders to get on to the ship.
Start off with sexy top but NEVER come without thermal back up – It’s usually bloody freezing on the deck (even in the summer).
Thus, my top is black and clingy – and so is my vest underneath! On my bottom half, black wide leg evening trousers and heels (can’t possibly go in flatties – I’ll just have to manage and I have done this before).
I’ve also got a nice black wool evening wrap – not quite cold enough for my faux fur.
1810 I’m all ready. Yep I’ve definitely lost some weight – didn’t have to lie on the bed to get the trousers done up – plus they’re not giving me a wedgie (Just in case you don’t know what a wedgie is, Wikipedia’s definition is as follows: ‘A wedgie occurs when a person’s underwear or other garments are wedged between the buttocks.’)
And we all know it’s a very unattractive look...
1825 Sarah and I arrive in the Wardroom to find everyone already making inroads into the gin and tonics ready prepared on the bar. The mini buses are leaving for the jetty in just over 5 minutes which means we’ve definitely got time for one…
1840 We arrive at the jetty to find a couple of motor whalers waiting for us and 5 minutes later we’re heading towards the huge grey warship moored in the middle of the river.
1900 It’s taken nearly 20 minutes to get the whole party on board and I’m now standing happily with full glass of champagne in one hand and a plate of canapés in the other.
I must remember not to overindulge this evening...
I must remember not to overindulge this evening...
1930 Already on second glass of champagne and really beginning to enjoy myself. I haven’t had chance to chat with Rob yet but then he’ll have to join the queue.
One of the nicest things about being a single woman at a naval cocktail party is that there aren’t many of us; consequently we’re in high demand to provide sparkling and witty conversation...
At the moment I’m surrounded by a small crowd of junior officers who are always great company (being not quite so up themselves as some of their older counterparts).
An Officer and a Gentleman Wanted: A Romantic Comedy Page 7
