It’s not exactly what you’d call a pretty ship. Actually, it could do with a lick of paint. And it’s not very big or impressive either. Not exclusive, or state of the art. No special history that I know of. And yet Emma and I drove all the way to Fremantle Harbour this weekend to see her, and take some pictures.
I kind of jumped the gun on the last blog. All seemed well when Zoey came out of surgery, and I was instructed to give the vet hospital a call the next morning after eight AM to see when I could pick her up. So when my phone rang at 08:01 and I saw the vet’s number, I knew something wasn’t as it should be.
The turbines had been running for a couple of minutes already by now. As I walked out of the hangar, and onto Rotorvation’s apron, I noticed a ground crew member giving the pilot a thumbs up, and then walk away. Sweet! I was convinced I got out there just in time to finally get some shots of the WA Police SA365N “Dauphin” in flight. I stood there patiently waiting for the pilot to run through his endless checklists (apparently the Dauphin has some pretty long ones) before he could take her up into the hover.More
I’d put a towel in the kitten’s carrier. Zoey’s carrier has a little pillow in it, but I couldn’t find anything better than a fluffy towel for the kittens. At least it’s better than nothing. When I walked into the living room, I was relieved to see the two little ones playing in the middle of the room. Easy catch. As I picked them up I noticed Zoey was nowhere to be seen. Great, it would be a challenge to find her in time.
I remember sitting at one of the desks at the very front of the class. For some reason the teacher’s desk is on a little elevation, as if that gives him more leverage over the rowdy teens before him. As usual I have no clue whatsoever as to what is happening on the blackboard. I always zoned out during mathematics, since I didn’t get it anyway. Sensing I wasn’t paying attention, the teacher calls on me to solve the equation on the board. I blankly stare at the numbers and letters on the board, as if the both of us don’t know I won’t be able to do it.
“PNR?! What the hell does PNR mean?” I grab the scribble paper that has been left on my desk. I make a quick estimation of questions that could be wrong. If I submit now, that’ll be a 70-75% grade. Dammit, I wanted to do better this time. Still, if I submit now, provided I’m not oblivious to other questions I answered wrong, that should be enough to pass. Barely though…More
My eyes look at the clock on the dashboard, as they often tend to do while driving this bit of freeway. Normally I’m curious to see if I’m still on schedule to arrive on time for class. But last Saturday I was more concerned with arriving at Jandakot ridiculously early, since I forgot to factor in the absence of other commuters on the Kwinana freeway.More