Author Archives: Commander Shacklepin

The cardigan has re-emerged from its summer stowage and is now much in evidence.  There has also been talk of wearing vests, tights and pyjamas (not all at the same time).  As they say in the television epic, Game of Thrones, “Winter Is Coming”, but we have had a good innings this year when itContinue reading “Blog 60. Winter Is Coming”

There were no flashing blue lights or sirens: just the slamming of a solid metal door and the footfall of heavy boots pounding up the stairs.  The cavalry, or rather the paramedics, had arrived.  I had been woken at 0300 by my wife switching on the bedside lights and declaring,“My heart has been beating fastContinue reading “Blog 59. Take Two Paracetamol, Dear…”

I think we need a new boat. Not a complete big boat – that would be pushing my luck and, in any case, I am very content with the one I have – but a little inflatable boat, known as a tender. But such a goal flags up many questions: where would we keep itContinue reading “Blog 58. Tender at Heart”

I am a lark, not an owl.  I am ready for my scratcher at 2230 (coincidentally, the time of “Pipe Down” in HM Ships), but leap out of bed, both feet on the deck, bright eyed and bushy tailed, at 0630, ready to make the early-morning tea, coincidentally in time for “Call the Hands” inContinue reading “Blog 57. Stabbed by Diva Red”

I was cruising in the Caribbean.  The sea was an azure blue and the boat rolled gently in the swell.  It was lovely and warm, and I was approaching a sandy beach as white as icing sugar with the intention of anchoring.  Jane was wearing a green bikini (at least, I think it was Jane)Continue reading “Blog 56. Yes, still alive.”

They follow me around you know. The children, I mean. I am convinced that God is putting me to the test like He did with Jesus when He spent 40 days in the desert (and there the comparison between me and the Son of God definitely ends). We are back on the boat and, inContinue reading “Blog 55. Never Sleep Under a Coconut Tree”

July is the start of the new autumn. I hesitate to parrot my good wife on the subject of the weather, but the British climate really is the damned limit. No sooner had the restriction on staying overnight away from home been lifted, than the weather closed down. This, of course, was coincident with usContinue reading “Blog 54. Master and Commander under God”

Ahoy, my hearties.  I write to you from the high seas, well my yacht alongside a pontoon on the River Dart with the high sea a mile downstream, but the principle is the same.  We are still bouncing around even if we are alongside, and the wind is howling through the rigging like a banshee. Continue reading “Blog 53. All at Sea”

Root canal.  The very words seem deliberately calculated to scare the living daylights out of you.  It is the treatment suggested for dealing with my toothache (yes, I still have it, though it has eased considerably).  I returned to the dental surgery the other day to have the errant tooth removed as previously arranged but,Continue reading “Blog 52. A Pair of Brown Eyes”

Prohibition has started. Not in Britain, you will be relieved to hear, but in the Shacklepin Household. It came to pass on Sunday, when there went out a decree from Caesar Augustus the memsahib stating in capital letters: There Will Be No More Alcohol Or Puddings During The Week. This Draconian edict was, apparently, necessaryContinue reading “Blog 51. The Garden Strikes Back”