Lieutenant Commander Horatio Shacklepin Royal Navy (Retired) (not his real name) was born, at a very early age, on the banks of the River Tyne in England: an unfortunate oversight on the part of his mother, who did not realise she could have had a free bed under the NHS, which had been formed a few years earlier. The clamour of the shipyard and the fresh smells of diesel oil, salt spray and decaying sewage in the River Tyne were all to prove prophetic indications of his later life.
His formative years were spent in the merchant ships in which his father served. It was from this experience that he learned knotting, splicing and the repair properties of the Chief Engineer’s torch. He could have joined the Merchant Navy like his father, but the attraction of the Royal Navy, and the misapprehension that it still condoned hanging and flogging, was a strong one and he joined the BRITANNIA Royal Naval College, Dartmouth as a Cadet in 1969: the year of the first man on the moon.
Unlike most of his contemporaries, Shacklepin loved Dartmouth and this characteristic of being not quite in synchronisation with the rest of society was to remain with him for the remainder of his life. After Passing Out, he became Senior Midshipman of the guided missile destroyer HMS BARCHESTER, thus invoking the remark from a fellow officer that seniority among Midshipmen was like size among turds. Promoted after a year, he moved on to the RN Engineering College, Manadon, Plymouth with the joint aims of becoming a Bachelor of Science and discovering as much about women as possible. These aims were not entirely compatible, and he was not completely successful in either, but he did graduate in Mechanical Engineering with Honours and develop a penchant for women with red hair (especially nurses).
Armed with Boiler Watchkeeping, Unit Watchkeeping, and Marriage Certificates, Shacklepin joined the aircraft carrier HMS CASSANDRA, in 1975. There, his deep knowledge of stress analysis, fluid mechanics and thermodynamics proved invaluable as officer in charge of cleaning the wardroom flat. Fascinated by the further cleaning opportunities offered by deeper academic study, Shacklepin left CASSANDRA in 1978 and returned to college to study for an MSc in Marine Engineering.
Completing this achievement in his task book (together with the experience of marriage), he returned to the Fleet as Laundry Officer and part-time Marine Engineer Officer of the frigate, HMS CAROUSEL: 2,500 tons of anti-submarine venom, armed with a torpedo tied to a rocket and the Copes Feed Regulator. In the transition process, he contracted pneumonia, the first of many medical conditions (the second was hypochondria) that were to dog the rest of his career.
It was in 1980 that Shacklepin was appointed to what was to be both the pinnacle and final resting place of his career: the Ship Department Design Division of the Ministry of Defence, located conveniently 30 miles away from the sea in Bath. Shacklepin’s experience in a 30-year old aircraft carrier was immediately put to good use, developing pumps for future nuclear submarines and sewage treatment plants for the Fleet.
Horatio was slightly injured (bruised shoulder and right arm – prefers not to talk about it) during the Falklands Conflict when he fell off a chair in the Ministry of Defence. Believing the collapse may have been the result of malnutrition, he immediately sought out a new mate to cook his meals and generally attend to his bodily needs. He married Jane, an attractive, desperate, displaced Caribbean islander with poor eyesight and red hair, after a whirlwind courtship of less than four months.
After a return to the RN Engineering College as a staff officer, Shacklepin retired from the Royal Navy in 1985 and took up a career as an engineering consultant. He used this opportunity to consolidate his family life and introduce his young son to the benefits of naval routine: discarded toys were consigned to the scranbag (redemption fee 10p) and evening rounds were held at 1930. This ordered routine, with its accompanying lessons in self reliance, was to serve his son so well that the boy vowed to leave home and live on his own at the earliest opportunity.
But Shacklepin missed the Royal Navy: the shouting, the dark blue uniform with the brass buttons, the low-slung torch in the overalls pocket. He re-entered the Service in 1989. He dispelled his wife’s naïve belief that he would be appointed to a sleek, gas-turbine powered frigate, by the prediction that he would be appointed to the oldest, rustiest steam bucket in the Fleet; and, indeed, he was initially earmarked for HMS SUCHLIKE. However, better counsel won the day, and Shacklepin was appointed, instead, to SUCHLIKE’s sister ship, HMS NONSUCH. He revelled in the fire, flood, pestilence, blood, sweat and tears that followed but, after nearly three years, reluctantly accepted that he should get off and let someone else have a try. He returned to his old hunting ground at the Ministry of Defence, this time to advise on logistic support.
At about this time, Shacklepin was persuaded that his expertise – particularly his deep academic background and in-depth, specialised, experience in industry – could best be exploited if he remained in the rank of Lieutenant Commander. He would have refused offers of promotion for this reason. Thoughtfully, the Service saved him any embarrassment by withholding the offers.
Shacklepin’s remaining years in the Royal Navy were spent ashore in a variety of support appointments. He finally retired in 2002. After initially advising his long-suffering wife on areas of the house that needed reorganising or cleaning, he bought himself a boat. He polished the brightwork, cheesed down cordage, and performed the ceremonies of Colours and Sunset in his own command for twenty two years before selling the boat and moving on. He now lectures on the TITANIC and writes wry observations on his fellow man: a topic which, frankly, he never understood in the 20th century and understands even less in the 21st.
On a more serious note, I first started writing blogs in the form of emails to friends when my wife and I took passage to Australia for a long holiday. Other blog/emails, from various locations and, or in, different situations followed. Friends were kind (or misjudged) enough to say how much they enjoyed them and that they should be published for others to read. Please do not take the comments, the criticisms or the opinions too seriously: they are meant to be tongue-in-cheek. Well, most of them anyway…
"A Very Vintage Chap..." 