I work weekends a lot.

It is a necessary evil and I have developed a couple of evolutionary adaptations over the years to help me cope with what initially was a frightening prospect. Here are a few of my ever so helpful hints.

If you are sharing an eating space with colleagues that are not working. Make sure you use a blender or drill with a whisk attached loudly with a lot of ice around their hungover persons frequently. They will learn quickly you are serious. Sometimes I just blend ice with nothing else.

Drink a lot of coffee. You should feel a tightness in your chest before 7am all going well. You can use a cup of blended ice to cool down your forehead if it gets too much.

Enjoy the fact that nobody sends emails on a Weekend.

If you have to wear a uniform. Dress down. Wear slippers instead of shoes. Shorts instead of pants. Better yet don’t wear a uniform but still carry tools and things that identify you as working in case anyone has the gall to ask you what you are doing.

Wear headphones, preferably large. These will come in handy when you are using the blender.

Eat ice cream at every opportunity.

If you have any fun tasks to do save them for the weekend. Your weekend self will thank you for it.

If you do have to be seen by anybody, leverage some of the caffeine you poisoned yourself with earlier appear excessively animated and you attending to a critical failure of a life-threatening piece of equipment.

When everyone convenes on Monday to talk about the exciting things they did.

Blend some more ice.

A bit of a low key day here today. I have been applying myself to the gruelling task of curating a new mix for my SoundCloud page. It is a Trepidatious task and one I periodically apply myself to.

The process is best explained in a series of bullet points.
  • Acquire an arsenal of songs.
  • Try to fit them together like parts of several abandoned jigsaws
  • Hit dispair
  • Start again
This has been going on for a few months now. It is nearly impossible to do when I am at home, because of things.
Speaking of home. This time next week I shall be at there in a slightly wrinkled and dishevelled state. I am looking forward to seeing my Family and calling snacks forever canapes(CanApes) loudly in a faux posh accent.
Speaking of which. One of my colleagues remarked on my *posh* voice I threw on for *reasons*. I resolutely and standoffishly refute any inference that I have anything resembling a posh voice.
I can stop uttering profanities for a couple of sentences when I put mind to it.
If anyone needs me I shall be looking for jigsaw pieces, swearing. 
Adieu.
Welcome to my experiment. I have a largely unproven hypothesis which has struck me in moments of clarity.

Social media stifles creativity and alters true thought.

I first noticed a sinister side to Social media when I found myself getting VERY wound up during the last American presidential campaign. Admittedly it is all too easy to consume News and opinions 24 hours a day.

I also have moments of guilt when I think about this very blog which output has plummeted. Correlating with every photo, status update, like and click elsewhere.

Make no mistake. Social networking uses psychology, brain chemistry and evolutionary biology to capture your attention far more than any drug.

Last March when the Cambridge Analytica story broke I was ready to quit. I would deactivate Facebook, remove the Instagram and Twitter apps and be a free person.

So I thought. Then I realised I was organising an event on Facebook. I also have photos I like to see. I could not be free.

A year later. The event is over. The photos I can do without.

I shall opt out for a month and see what happens. 

Calm the farm. My trial separation is a month off facebook. A cleverly thought out hashtag #marchout will be explained in due course but the real test will be seeing if I can conjure up more words in cohesive phrases through a semi-regular torrent of splendid prose.

But first? Some pictures. Ah, there is that dichotomy I was dreaming of.

One of the more simultaneously frustrating and rewarding parts of my vocation is having to be an all-knowing oracle for anything with a CPU, buttons or a touch screen. Over Valentines, I was presented with a Camera and asked to provide deep insights in its use.

The Camera was not your average Camera. It was a range finder Leica M.

Being a greying Xenial I invoked my reality distortion field, hastily consulted Google and bluffed my way through some photos.

It was not easy. It turns out you do need to have more than a passing interest in photography to wield one properly.

I must have sold being adequately flummoxed because I was left with a Leica Hermes Model M9-P to *learn*.

I foolishly thought it was worth 10 thousand dollars. I took my best security Goon this every evening with me to do some photography.

It turns out it is worth 50 thousand dollars. Gazooks. I probably would not have left home if I had known it was worth so much.

Anyway, what follows is some photos. I hope you enjoy them.

It turns out Rangefinding Cameras become easy after some practice. Something people do not have time for anymore but they do have the money.

I actually still don’t know how to use this camera but if you made it this far. I have succeeded.

See you soon :-).

My profuse apologies for the scarcity of content. This blog has been in remission and life had conspired against updating it. Rest assured I have a plan to increase said content. Stay tuned.
Last weekend I was to have swum with whale sharks and written about these large creatures. Alas, the elements conspired against me and a slightly less natural option was chosen.
A Mexican Desert Safari. But first, let us slide into reverse. Where am I? Well I am currently in La Paz Mexico. Not to be confused with the prison in Columbia. I changed jobs last year, in what was a very needed but abrupt change which still troubles me.
The Chief Engineer and I were collected at 10am on Saturday morning. We are not allowed out very often and I fear we looked like two lost moles waiting outside our complex for our ride. We collected two other tourists and were taken to a depot to collect our vehicles. It was a team effort with the Chief neglecting to bring his drivers licence and myself being more interested in taking photos and providing audio accompaniment.
After a rudimentary safety and waiver signing session, we were soon out on the open road.
 We abruptly stopped under direction from our guides and were encouraged to buy beer. This is why we signed a waiver. Things are different here.

Back on the highway we eventually started heading up a large flood viaduct. The alluvial plain was being mined for large rocks. Various shanty towns slowly oozed down steep embankments. Not startled in the slightest we kept heading up the valley. 
Marvelling at old car tyres and heavy machinery we must have made quite a comical three-vehicle convoy to the sparse workers dotted along the thoroughfare with the Bluetooth speaker enabled gringos bringing up the rear.
We soon stopped at something a lot more interesting. An impressive collection of rocks and a water source which drained away under the soft sand. It was here I lost Chief Rikki for the first time. It turns out he is part mountain goat and climbs to vantage points at any opportunity.
We were off again and up a ridge past an irate farmer when we noticed this chap.
That my dear readers is a Carcara hawk.
The next spot was a bit special. This tree is a bit famous as we discovered in town later with paintings and sculptures of it being on sale.
The tree has grown around a very large rock. 

Our guide thought we should have an artistic pose together.  
I lost Rikki again.

And we soon descended out of the hills to La Paz.
To successfully debrief from our heroic journey we attempted a bar crawl of sorts. Sadly there were not many bars in the offering. The ‘best’ Margarita in La Paz was an insipid effort. Spending a bit of time in Mexico I have turned into quite a Margarita connoisseur. A sweet Margarita is usually disguising poor tequila. 
With the sun waning we headed back to our Marina. With the luck which only I seem to have, we were set upon by a smaller boat with three Kiwis on board and were soon enjoying small boat comforts. Like inviting randoms onto your boat because one of them is a Kiwi and you know the other one. It was the most Kiwis I had seen since I left home and it brought back some fond memories from ten years ago when I worked on a very small boat.
That’s right. I have been ten years in this game. Who would have thought?
It appears in my clamouring to conquer the known universe I may have left quite a few people in my wake missing me. In the past week, I have fielded two whole communications asking to my whereabouts. These tearful exchanges also pressed the point home. People quite foolishly need more of me in their lives.

Being a wholesome and somewhat serious humanoid shaped lifeform I do have a confession.

I miss you too.

Chances are if you are reading this blog we have probably engaged in some light hearted banter. We have laughed and cried. You might have learned some comically interesting fact which escapes you at this moment but at the time it seemed quite important.

This is compounded most mathematically for people I have worked with. Not only did you get to eat meals with me three times a day. We bonded under trying conditions. I probably quite frequently took you wildly off target working with power tools, cooking, navigating, detailing or even trying to get some peace and quiet. I am not apologetic in the slightest.

Until such time I have my own fragrance or range of ornate door stops you will just have to make do with this very blog.

Do you miss me yet?

I was with my last job for about three years. This is close to a record. I have always been very whimsical when it comes to employment. I put this down to being terrible at negotiating better conditions and having an internal countdown clock. When I worked ashore it was about two years . Yachting has been about one year. Basically if you ever employ me. Make sure you look after me or else one day I might just vanish. Often spoken about and never to be seen again.

Having had my anchor down for so long. It is nice to be on the move again. Fresh vistas intoxicate. However, it is the little things that make all the difference.

Firstly flying to Tahiti.

I love Air New Zealand. Warning. When flying to French Polynesia; the French Language, laissez faire attitude and island time will slow you down. Tahiti also attracts a certain type of passenger. Let me be blunt.

OLD.

I was soon surrounded some increasingly decrepit creatures. This might be because I elected to squander an upgrade on this relatively short trip. My row was filled with cosmetically bludgeoned old ladies trying to outdo each other with weird movies. Art house torture porn (custom genre I think) either side of me I soon wanted to bludgeon myself.

4 hours and twenty minutes later I had landed. It was the comical landing I expected. We were herded down stairs onto sticky tarmac and happy faces. Given my relative able bodiedness I sliced through baggage and customs and was soon on board my new home.

And it is here where we must engage radio silence. I can’t talk about anything………………………………………………………

But there must be something?

Well.

I do like there is a smart device ban when you are working, eating meals and generally being Human. Already I feel quite at home and have engaged in some quite far reaching conversations. It all feels very adult. The very things you are probably reading this blog on have changed social situations irrevocably I fear.

We have a day each week where the Crew do a little outing. It’s just a couple of hours in the morning. But it’s a nice touch and I might see a bit more outside than I would typically.

These workplaces by nature have to be incredibly organised. This one is impeccably so. Everything has a place and things that are not in places are quickly disintegrated, recycled and reconstituted.

To get in the spirit of things. I reorganised one of my storage areas so all the crew can get involved helping me to boringise it again.

So here we are. I look forward to sharing more filtered nonsense.

I got asked last night after dinner what I liked to do. I had a moment to pause and replied.

“Well….. I like writing.”

So about two months ago I started writing a long exhaustive piece explaining the whole living on a boat thing and why it is so strange and why almost ten years later I am still doing it.

Then I realised people can watch Below Deck.

Probably best I didn’t waste all of that effort.

Anyway, I have transitioned…… to a new job.

It is great. The only problem. I have been muzzled within an inch of my life. I have signed 2 NDA’s one of which is for something that is not even real.

Anna says quite often that I am cryptic. Good thing I am. I can’t say anything anymore. I will have to write about the past in vague prose.

“I was over there. It was nice”

Anna also says I lie a lot.

We shall meet somewhere in the middle.

I went out at the start of the month. Nights out are carefully planned things these days. Warm up and warm down stretches. Battery packs, topical creams and pain relief are all on hand. My last couple of nights out in New Zealand have been marred with a couple of conversations.

“Hello”

“%&*#$ you have got old”

When you eventually get home having those words reverberating in your head is a bit disheartening.

Not this time though.

“Hello”

“$#$$(( you guys look great”

And finally

“Hello”

“Are you still writing?”

“Well ummm $*&#$& Social networking, conspiracies, big brother, algorithms, parenting, general laziness”

“You should, you have a talent”

These two interactions were a nice reminder that the aging process can be forgotten about and that wasting talents is a terrible thing. Even the talent of being wasted.

I shall write something more later.

Highly volatile blockchain technology talks.