Venus in blue skies

9 to 13 September 2015

Wednesday morning was wet and miserable and I was feeling out of sorts and grumpy. When I finished reading my emails grumpiness had turned to anger. Seriously, there was almost steam coming out of my ears. The new RCSM, the one who spent all of two minutes in our office, had sent us some standard emails to use. It was annoying enough that she didn’t seem to realise we already had our own but when I read her offerings they made my blood boil.

The odd mistake is bound to happen when you send out hundreds of emails every day, a misplaced comma or the wrong date is almost excusable in a one off letter written in haste, although we aim to make them all perfect. A standard letter though, one that will be sent out thousands of times, should be perfect in every way. It should be checked many times before it’s first used to make sure it is. These were far from perfect. Of course I highlighted all the mistakes and sent them back with an email saying exactly why my team wouldn’t be using them. Guess I’m not going to be the most popular member of staff when she comes to visit next week then.

At least by the time I went home the rain had stopped and I had a pleasant walk along the river to calm me down. An evening visit from Panda lifted my mood even more. We spent a few hours catching up and laughing about life. It’s such a shame we don’t get to see each other every day any more. Every time I see her it makes me realise just how much I miss her.

When I left the house on Thursday morning there was a tiny sliver of moon still visible in the deep blue sky and, just below it, one bright star, Venus. As I made my way toward the river I watched it but there was no vantage point to take a picture with all the houses and street lights in the way. By the time I reached the bridge the street lights had gone out and the first glow of dawn light was beginning to brighten the horizon. The moon and Venus were still there so I stopped for a while to try to capture them as they hovered just above the tall mast of one of the ships on the old Navigation Wharf. It seemed amazing that something so very far away should be so clear in the hazy morning light.

As I walked along the river path I couldn’t help stopping every so often to look back, noting how, as the dawn glow grew stronger, the starry spectacle grew fainter. Below the fading star two jets flying high above the bridge left orange con trails like meteorites skimming the atmosphere. Beside the path, the pinkish white flowers of yarrow distracted me from the sky for a moment. Once used to staunch the flow of blood from wounds as the leaves encourage clotting, it’s the first I’ve seen this year.

A lone swan by the big stones seemed more interested in the pink glow on the water than me and, further on the red boat, Dutch Courage, floated on a peach skin river. Something about these misty pink mornings is good for the soul. It was hard to leave it behind at the top of the slope and head for the office.

A man wrote in to say he didn’t like the bus voice announcements, they disturbed his conversation. He wasn’t the first and I sent off one of our approved, well written, standard letters to explain these were to help visually impaired passengers and had been very well received. Mostly that does the trick but later in the day he emailed back.
While I understand the needs of the visually impaired they are in the minority and I don’t see why their needs should spoil the enjoyment of paying customers like myself. After all blind people have helpers to tell them when to get off a bus, why should they need announcements?
Of course I wrote back to put him straight, explaining that not all visually impaired people are actually blind and blind people don’t all have or want ‘helpers.’ In fact the announcements have been developed after consultation with the RNIB and help people with visual problems lead normal, independent lives. What a horrible, selfish man.

The moon was lower in the sky, almost lost in the dawn glow, and Venus higher as I walked down the main road on Friday morning. They seemed a lot further apart too. By the time I got to the river they’d both disappeared behind glowing pink clouds like candy floss. Gulls were flying about squawking to each other and I walked under the bridge smiling to myself. The river looked as if someone had poured pink oil in it, the colour swirled on the lapping waves. The pink clouds seemed to be rolling in with every step I took.

By the time I made it to the big stones the pink had turned to peach and the whole river was alive with glowing colour. The spectacle was breathtakingly beautiful. It almost brought tears to my eyes. Swathes of cloud like smudged pastel drawings in shimmering reds and oranges lit up the river and the sky. Alone on the river path, I pitied all the people still in bed and missing this wonderful show.

Of course I took far too many photos trying to capture the sky as it changed, wishing I could hold each moment in my head forever. The clouds changed from red to gold and then to buttery cream as I strolled along the boardwalk. It was hard to tear my eyes away. As the clouds lost their colour the sky seemed to gain it, a deep orange glow began to rise on the horizon. Behind the trees the orange ball of the sun would soon be coming up but, sadly, I had no time to wait for it. One last shot of wheeling gulls and burning sky through the gap where the trees were cut and it was off to the office leaving it all behind.

As usual for Friday it was a day of lost property calls. Why some days should be more one thing or another often puzzles me. One in particular stood out. The lady had left her phone on the bus, as so many people seem to do. She’d called in the day before and the controllers had told us it had been found and it would be taken to the lost property office the next day.

“When I got there they said it hadn’t arrived yet and I’d need to come back at midday,” she shouted. “Your man last night told me it would be there at nine thirty. Now I have to hang around until lunch time. I’m not happy at all.”
All the time I could hear her boyfriend in the backgroud egging her on. “I’m afraid we would have only been able to tell you what time the office opened,” I said, “we wouldn’t have been able to guarantee when it would arrive. I’m sorry if you misunderstood”
“Well, I got here at nine thirty and now I have to wait. I want you to reimburse my travel costs!”
“I’m afriad we couldn’t do that because you’d have had to travel there anyway,” I told her.
In the background I could hear her boyfrield saying, “tell them you want them to pay for your lunch.”
“I want my lunch paid for too,” she said, “and my boyfrield’s lunch because he came with me.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, beginning to lose patience with her, “You were the one who lost your phone, we found it for you and it will be taken to the lost property office but that is all we’re responsible for. Any costs you incurr in collecting it are your own responsibility.”
“You’ll be hearing from our solicitor,” the boyfriend shouted, having obviously snatched the phone from her.

On the way back along the river the colourful skies had turned to grey and there was drizzle. What a contrast to my morning walk. The gulls were still around though, masses of them flying over the boardwalk shrieking at each other. Much as I love the gulls and like to see them flying, they’re noisy beggars, like a bunch of squabbling children in the playground.

The Saturday morning skies couldn’t have been more different to the previous days. They were deep dark blue and filled with rain clouds. Sadly, those clouds were not keeping their rain to themselves so I walked through the desolate park with wind and rain buffeting me from all sides. A big yellow digger has appeared in the demolished TV studios making me wonder if work on the new buildings is about to start. They started to clear things months ago but then seemed to get bored with the whole thing and nothing happened for ages. It will be interesting to see what happens next. On the deep blue river Dutch Courage had been joined by another, older boat, all peeling paint with a blue tarpaulin draped over it to match the sky.

The rain was set for the day, more or less. When I got out of work, past another of our weird and wonderful walkway men, I was pleased to see Commando there with the car, glad the week was over.