Vajonny.

As previously mentioned, stews and engineers are not a match made in heaven. We don’t like them and they don’t like us. We break stuff, they have to fix it. They mess and we have to clean it. Of course, more goes into it than just that, but you get the gist. Johnny, however, is an exception. Whilst he still fits the overweight, pale, bilge-dwelling stereotype, he is neither grouchy, nor lazy, nor socially inept. He is, in fact, fucking hilarious, and lieu of how much The Joke Boat is falling apart, astoundingly chipper! Somewhat of a rocker, he plays in a band and can often be heard playing the guitar in the engine room, as he is soothed by the sound of his own voice. He probably works more hours than anyone onboard and deals with something major breaking every day. There is a special place for him in Engineer Heaven I’m convinced. Or at the very least, cold beers in hell.

Who the heck's on deck?

Ron escorted me back to the boat where I was to meet my new crew of nine– Captain, First Mate, Bosun, Deckhand, Engineer, Chef, Chief Stewardess (me), Second Stewardess and Third Stewardess.

The First Mate is from Australia and ironically is shaped just like a kangaroo; big and bottom-heavy, large flabby sack in front, hands frequently in pockets, long feet, and constantly almost getting run over by cars. That is to say, poor Aiden is vexed with intolerable gout, and is thus hindered in both speed and mobility. He is older, blonde, kind and unconfrontational, and has absolutely NO crazy in him, unlike his Aussie brethren. He loves his wife and goes home every night when we are without guests. Unfortunately however, Aiden has joined us after a somewhat relaxed career in yachting, and is not accustomed to the fast-paced, anally retentive, pedantically perfect requirements of high-end charter vessels. In my opinion, boy don’t cut the mustard. In Ava's opinion (my number two), he is like a blonde Fred Flintstone'.

Jonah the Bosun is also from that general quarter of the Earth. He is tall, built like an Olympic swimmer, and is a pathological liar by his own admittance. His humour is dry and quirky and I think that he has made me laugh at least five times. Out of all the boys, Jonah probably has the best idea of what working on a charter boat requires, but he would be doing all the extra bits alone were he to attempt it. So he keeps quiet, does his job and fills the rest of the time telling lies for his own amusement.

Peter is the junior deckhand and is as green as grass. It’s his first season in yachting and he has had the (mis)fortune of landing his arse on The Joke Boat. Petey, like Eddie the Pooh, is also a space invader deluxe, and fancies little more than a good ol’ cuddle from the girls. Of course, I never oblige. He works hard, is enthusiastic, and never complains, up until he’s just bloody had enough and then that’s that. He likes a party and a tipple, fancy rags and a young girl. We like to call him Pedo Pete, just to piss him off, which on some occasions has been enough to get him to leave the room...

You're Welcome, Kiddo.

After my extended vacation I returned home to my beautiful Spanish island and took a further two months to ‘look for work’. It was finally in April that I flew to France to meet my new boat of employment. Unlike The Good Ship where it was all fun and games, I now work on motoryacht Joke Boat, where everything is, to put it lightly, a joke.

Upon arrival at Nice Airport I was met by a grey, hunched man who looks alarmingly like Moe from the Simpsons.

Unfortunately this individual has neither Moe’s cynicism nor his wit, and can only be comparable in their taste for one thing; the bar. This is Ron, my new captain.

Ron is American and is as gung-ho as he is goofy. He has an extended upper lip, small glassy eyes, and big, white veneers that combine to make him look stupid when he smiles, which is all too often.

When he walks he leads with his head and his hips at the same time, and when he stops he seems to be half-sitting on an imaginary barstool. This makes him look like he is ready to spring into action at any given moment, although it is very apparent even upon the first meeting, that Ron isn’t capable of doing anything quickly.

Ron likes to pass on little jobs here and there until his entire workload had been successfully dispersed, and he has thus never really developed any actual skills as a captain. As a mutual acquaintance described it, “Ron will ‘one-more-thing’ you to death”. Due to his limited capabilities and his reputation of being unemployable in the States, Ron has spent the last 10 years working on little more than small bare-back charter boats (the maritime equivalent of caravanning), temping and delivering dinghies from here to there. Until he got this job that is, from a sympathetic pal.

Ron is also self unaware and has a hero complex to boot, which results in him shamelessly seeking gratification for the little that he actually does do.

‘Good thing I picked you up from the airport, hey kiddo!’ he said in the car on the way back to the boat when we’d just met.

To be clear, if he hadn’t I would have just taken a taxi from the airport and charged it back to the boat as I did with my flight, and would not have to endure being called kiddo. I smiled and nodded in agreement, and thought to myself, ‘Oh come on, it ain’t that bad, kiddo’...

Bing ba-da Bella!

Okay, so let’s start this again. Who am I and what the fuck am I on about? I am Isabelle, chief stewardess and author of this once successful blog. As promised right in the beginning, this blog was likely to be like most things that I start and never finish. But here I am again to regale you of my tales of my life at sea.

Why am I back? A couple of reasons really; firstly because my blogging ended rather abruptly when I was forced to shut it down due to my infringement of a few confidentially agreements and some trust. But mainly the confidentiality agreements. Secondly, because I am a narcissist. And thirdly, because I have moved on to a new boat and just as it was when I first moved on to The Good Ship with Captain Chutney and the likes, I am working for a turbo-dick which requires me to vent into cyber space for the sake of my sanity.

                                                *****

So after my time on The Good Ship (voluntarily) came to an end, Kay and I decided to spend a blissful week in the Caribbean partying, diving and laying on the beach, before we headed back down to the Southern Hemisphere to visit our respective families for Christmas. There I spent a further two months partying, roadtrippin’ and laying on the beach. I did plan to use much of that time writing, and were I able to get my arse off the couch, I would have told the stories of the rest of my time aboard The Good Ship and how it came to an end. I would have amused you with the story of the swinger’s charter, during which a very successful cabin sweep came up with a leather g-string and a gimp mask, both of which Kay put on her head. Or how Mini Me became an annoying little leg-humper and found herself looking for new employment before the season ended. I might even have gone as far as to recount the stories of how I no longer had any excuse to keep the peace with Gale after he discovered my blog, and how he took a special delight in inviting everyone to his wedding except me. I would have followed that up with the Leader’s plan to invite me as his plus one (before he got uninvited) and how I was thus robbed of my opportunity to upstage Gale’s bride in a white frock and get pissed at his open bar while he seethed into the sleeves of his monkey suit. I would have topped it all off with the coup de grace, of how Gale got beaten up by his wife on his wedding night, called the cops on her, and had his dearly beloved spend the night in jail. Married even shorter than Brittney Spears. But alas, I didn’t.

I did, however, get a lot of procrastinating done. Oh, and I got a great tan.