Ferry Good

The summer, or should I call it that, has almost come to pass.  I don't think the past months will become one of the finest summers this decade let alone this century. I have been very busy getting in touch with old friends and colleagues and family, but also had some difficult times when my sister was in hopital and I had to take care of her and took on all her household tasks. Last weekend I met up with a former colleague I hadn't seen for 9 years as she lives in France, and we had a great day in Bruges talking about the good old days and our lives since 2003.  Meanwhile I still enjoy spending time with my grandchildren.  Our granddaughter Ophelia is such a cute and very actve child and when she comes round I always dance around with her.  She is always dancing and jumping and skipping around, it's a lovely sight and she always wants me to join in.  So all in all I am Ferry Good.  'Ferry good' was actually de baseline to North Sea Ferries when I started to work there in 1978. During my first years there, the small ferries, Norwind and Norwave, that sailed to Hull from Zeebrugge, often arrived late due to stormy weather.  On one of those occasions, the ferry arrived in the evening about 10 hours delayed.  The crossing was overnight, the ships leaving at 6 pm and arriving around 9 am.  Not only did the ferry arrive late, she was supposed to depart again the same evening, but we already knew she would stay in Zeebrugge for 2 days because  some of the cargo had been damaged,  All pasengers and freight that were booked on the cancelled sailing had to be contacted and offered alternative ways to travel : catch the ferry from Rotterdam, a 3 hrs drive away, get a refund and travel via Dover, or stay the night and go on the ferry the following day.  Most of the time there weren't too many passengers so we had no problem getting things sorted.  Our office and the berth were located on a dock seperated from the tides by a lock.  When the ship was in the lock, we could see her but only standing on a a chair, or the window sill.  My boss was an impatient man and the first time I saw him getting up on the window sill to check wether the ship had already gone into the lock, I almost burst out laughing.  After that first time, I found it quite normal for him to be on the look out.  Whenever anything went wrong and we had to deal with delayed or cancelled sailings, he would always be around to see how things were going, and offering us his assistance.  But he was such a nervous person that nobody would ever ask him to help out, a fact he knew and often he would sense that his presence was not required and quickly say "I'm gone already" and hurry away, back to his office.  One of the things that I will  never forget is the blockade of the french ports of Calais and Boulogne in August 1980.  It was the heigth of the summer season and lots of British passengers were returning from their holiday on the continent.  All of a sudden our small terminal that was only meant to accomodate 249 passengers at the most was swarmed by 5 times that number.  On the first day of the blockade, 10 full coach loads of passengers turned up out of the blue on a Sunday.  The Normandy Ferries ships, with names that seemed a bit strange to us (Leopard, Lion, Panther) that were not stuck in the blocked ports in France came to Zeebrugge but that was not nearly enough for the large number of passengers and cars or the number of trucks hoping to get accross the channel.  We did part of the handling but some of the french staff came to Zeebrugge. But somehow they were more relaxed than we were, and even managed to disappear for a 2 hr lunch break, much to our dismay as we worked almost round the clock.  The people waiting to get on the ferries were lined up on the road into Zeebrugge and food and water distributed by the authorities.  The passengers at our terminal used our facilities for washing and even doing dishes.  People were almost prepared to fight to get a place on one of the ferries.  The whole thing lasted 2 weeks and although it was a very exciting time, we were all happy to have our small terminal back to ourselves when it finished. And the blockade ended with another anecdote : a  Spanish truckdriver, poor man, had driven to Zeebrugge on the day the blockade had been lifted, only to find that the Normandy Ferry ships no longer departed from there and he had to return to Boulogne.