DAVE'S PLAY DAY

I wasn't about to start with this, but tragedy as my favourite (and only) stool to get into the front bunks for things has just broken - and it did this with me on it. Not hurt, but gave a bit of a fright. It was supposed to take the weight of an elephant, and I am definitely not bigger than that despite Dave's excellent cooking, but fall to bits it did. So now it will be back to the old box again which is not as good as it does not fold up and gets in the way. It was just about to go to a new home too - so there are small mercies I guess as it is still with all the other going to a good home bits. And it is still only early in the day, the sun is still asleep with Dave and it's not yet time for the weather forecast.

So back to the main part. Day before yesterday we were out on the mooring and it was horrid outside, windy and wet, so an excellent day to do the engine maintenance chap thought. My idea was to maybe do the odd bit of knitting while listening to the radio, maybe read a book or two....I dread engine maintenance as it means total destruction of the living space. 'Won't take long' says Dave, with that look of love in his eyes as he contemplates being able to caress the other woman in his life. I sometimes think she is the alpha female with all the love and attention that goes into her, but then she is pretty indispensable. She is brand new, fitted in place of the trusty old Perkins that has been the motive power for the last 25 years and which needed to go to a less demanding home (has been re-homed to a little boat on the south coast by another engine lover). I was allowed to choose between the red one and the blue one - so naturally we have the lovely silvery blue one. The engine lives in the middle of the saloon under the table, so this is a considerable evolution to get it uncovered. All bunks have to be cleared of the things that accumulate there like books and knitting, the top of the table has the drawers in it which have to come out and be stacked, the top then has to be carefully lifted up so the side leaves don't catch and somehow parked sticking up on the port bunk and wedged with pillows. The base is a big box, and this gets lifted and put on the starboard bunk, but by this time one of us is straddling the yawning chasm with the engine in it and has to take a leap over the top to park it. Then you look around and realise that when work begins the non-worker, me is now confined to the chart table, and this is chock a block with things from the saloon. And as it is raining then there is no option to sit in the cockpit and as it is freezing cold and windy the outside office under the spray hood is not an option. At least I can get to the galley.
So out come all the bits and Dave is as happy as a sand boy. You would have thought that years of playing engines in the Navy would have cured him, but not a bit. First is the diesel filter. Should be easy but won't come off. Tries one bicycle chain thing, no joy and holes in filter. Tries old undoing thing and happily it comes off. Now looks expectantly at me with a filter in his hand as he has not thought of getting a bin to put it in , but this is easily sorted. I retire for a bit to the steps with a book and then i am called into action. I am needed to go out into the cold and turn the engine on. So big coat, hat, outside furry boots on, I scramble out to turn the engine on. No joy, as there is air in the system. To cut a long story short this part of the exercise took a couple of hours, including getting out the spare battery. I would await orders up in the cockpit, Dave was fiddling around with injectors, the shout would come, try the engine start again, no joy, wait for further orders. The engine was not going to start. The voice of optimism from below assured me it would eventually, once it had had a good burp,but by this time i had added another coat on top of what I was wearing and demanded coffee to keep the insides warm. It is a bit of a problem if the engine won't start and the batteries are flat, as we would the have to go in by dinghy and recharge the batteries, and they weigh a huge amount, to much really to totter around getting them into the dinghy when the wind is up.. However, just as we thought the battery was going to give up on another attempt (we were now on the spare one pulled up from its hiding place under the floor), we had one last go and, behold, the magic sound of engine noise rumbled from below. with a sigh of relief I thought this was the end of engine maintenance. Not so lucky, even if it was now into the afternoon. We then had the oil change. Not too messy this time as he got a new gizmo to suck the old stuff out. Then the putting in of the new stuff. A minute later a big cry from himself - 'Jen , I think it's the wrong oil!!!!!' The can didn't say 'diesel engines'. So off he goes in the dinghy to sort it out. I am still on the steps with a book. Back with proper oil and then that bit's done. We are now well into the afternoon, as I had needed a short lunch break to feed the tummy. Now we are finished I think. Not yet. Bilge pump to connect up, and this needs my agile fingers to grope down into the depths under the coupling to join up the wires that had come adrift. Now we have the electric bilge pump again, so we shouldn't sink if we run out of energy to pump bu hand. Finished? No, need to go up and start engines again to get oil around so the level is right. Then it is the emergency engine stop. We had realised that we had no way of stopping the engine if the switch up top failed. so there is now a lovely bit of string we can pull. This meant going up top to start the engine so it could be stopped down below and make sure the string behaved. Then it was over, at last I could come back inside to the warm. Then back on with the box, the top, and the the drawers. A comfy seat at last and just in time for PM on the radio. Next engine day we will be alongside, I am sure I can think of shopping to do! To be fair, chap has realised why it took so long to get a good burp and promises faithfully it will be a doddle next time. As this happens every 100 hours I think sailing everywhere and absolutely no motoring should decrease the anguish quite considerably. But it is always good to end a day on a happy note, and the old boy was very pleased that his other love has been cared for and loved, and exceptionally pleased to have the bilge pump and pull string done - good to see him so contented. And I got some knitting in after all.