Day Worker Blues.
Tommy looked out the window as the sunshine peered through the clouds, the southerly breeze gently puffed away the bringers of bad news for boaties in the Baleares group. Because any rain associated with a southerly brought with it the bane of the Med. Dirty rain.
Tommy loved dirty rain, dirty rain was an excuse to get down to the docks and start walking. Walking and talking and hopefully work.
The dock walker or day worker is a person of tenacity, used to being turned away frequently and with a shrug on to the next vessel, asking the same question over and over. “need any day workers?” “No” “OK, can I leave my number?”.
Day work could mean anything from two part teak preparation, metal detailing or if you get the jackpot.. lifting floorboards and cleaning bilges yum! Metal detailing Tommy loved. The gleaming handrails and his reflection in all manner of shiny paraphernalia agreed with him. Feted offerings lurking below the floorboards not so much.
Tommy was not sure if it was the smell of oil mixed with escaped sewage that he disliked so much or the fact when he placed his hands below the cool murk, the greasy liquid clung to his hands like a second skin. If he really got lucky he would discover something floating just below the surface. Normally soft and indistinguishable from its former self or form. Normally the the first brush against skin of this said item would produce a recoil of a snake handler followed by the clatter of hard objects in the path of the rapidly retracting limb.
“Everything ok down there?” “Yeah no worries mate, all good. By the way have you got a bandaid? I’ve just knocked some bark off the back of my hand”.
Good luck with that one. Bandaids, Elastoplast or whatever name you know for the product, it ain’t going to be on for long. The oily filth will make sure it lasts approximately 15 seconds tops.
The other thing that Tommy wasn’t that flash on.. was tight dark spaces. Guess what? Boats are full of them. He could never understand exactly why, whether it was the fact he always managed to bash a body part and donate some AB negative to the vessel, or maybe it was the heat and smell. Most tight spots on boats are warm at the best of times, but add a hot Mediterranean summer and you can’t see for sweat. Which is ok because there is not much light remember. Some boats, the newer ones, have small spaces with lights, are sparkling clean and smell like new paint. But this may just be a rumor spread by full timers just to tease day workers.
Tommy ambled along the docks exchanging smiles and half waves with people he knew by face, who had turned him down before. Eventually he arrived to the berth of the Meridian. He had worked her before, she was old but seaworthy enough and his last job was his favorite. Metal detailing. He had polished and shined every possible shiny thing on board and the first mate seemed more than happy enough at the time.
“Tommy! Just the man I’m looking for. I’ve got a hundy for a days work are you keen?”. The grin and wink from Tommy said it all. “Great stuff mate. I’ve got a funny smell coming from under the floorboards down stairs. It’s a bit of a squeeze, but I’ve got a new head lantern for you, so you’ll be as right as rain, by the way how goods this weather? What a scorcher”.
+34 675 209 649
rod.gutry@gmail.com
www.rodgutry.com
Rod Gutry-Freelance Illustration, Photography.
+34 675 209 649 rod.gutry@gmail.com
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