First job of the day was to get Dave’s mizzen mast on board – it’s been off for ages, since before we knew him, + this is a new one that he acquired somewhere. It’s been a big job on Dave’s list (he’s a worse list-maker than I am) since whenever, so it was a relief to get it done – sometimes I feel we’re making no progress at all. First job was to shift “Crusader” to a more accessible pier. No real problem there, except when we rammed the pier coming in. Dave shouted a lot at other people, but I think it was mostly his fault. Then a posse was deputised to carry the damn thing aboard + lay it lengthwise along the ship – erecting it would be a whole new operation. It was pretty heavy, but there were 12 of us or so, so all went relatively easily. The afternoon was spent lazily on silly little jobs –Dave seems content to achieve one thing per day. In the evening, after dinner – I ate very little, still feeling pretty ill – Dave performed minor surgery on my leg. I’d cut it, helping to get John’s boat on the railway, but it hadn’t healed very well, so Dave attacked it with a variety of potions + implements. Not very pleasant, but probably wise.
However, if Friday was an easy day, Saturday was a doddle (+ consequently even more frustrating, seeing as we want to get moving.) In the morning, Val + Monika tended the yard sale once again, while I put some bolts into a boom assembly that Dave seems to want to take along as a spare. (To me, he seems to be taking too much already, but he’s the boss.) And that was just about the end of the day’s work. We paid a short visit out to the Commissary (the US Army store) + just lazed around. I got rather depressed during the day, as Dave annoyed me more + more. His patronising attitude to the female sex annoys me, his excessively self-opinionated attitude annoys me, + his lack of consideration for others does even more. Anyway, we went out for a Chinese meal in the evening, then back for TV. Learnt yesterday, by the way, that Argentina have invaded the Falklands. I don’t think Britain will go to war over it – Dave thinks they will. Mind you… he would.
Hm – a few observations. As for the surgery, I still remember it well… Dave scraping at bits of my knee with a penknife come to mind. And Val, being the puritan she is, encouraging him!
Sooner or later, I am going to have to apologise for my attitude to Dave. As I have said before, this diary is an all too revealing account of my feelings, and my/our increasing frustrations. But I know this comes across as crass ingratitude, given how well we were being treated, being made part of the family aboard Crusader, as well as part of the YC community… which meant that we were (especially in contrast to our standard of living before) living quite royally. In the end, of course, the one that is reflected most harshly is me.
And world events manage to intrude, with the Falklands crisis. And history has the last word on which of Dave and myself was to prove right.