I've done it. yeeeehaaaa!

[wilbo]

Sorry, did I miss something? What sense of humour was that?




I also think 'benefit' is the wrong word.

oy.. cheeky.

[Morag]

Sorry, did I miss something? What sense of humour was that?




I also think 'benefit' is the wrong word.

I take your point

[wilbo]

I take your point

Ahem.. I've not left the room you know..!

[hilrosepaul]

Some people have made the mistake of seeing Shunt's work as a load of rubbish about railway timetables, but clever people like me, who talk loudly in restaurants, see this as a deliberate ambiguity, a plea for understanding in a mechanized world. The points are frozen, the beast is dead. What is the difference? What indeed is the point? The point is frozen, the beast is late out of Paddington. The point is taken. If La Fontaine's elk would spurn Tom Jones the engine must be our head, the dining car our esophagus, the guard's van our left lung, the cattle truck our shins, the first-class compartment the piece of skin at the nape of the neck and the level crossing an electric elk called Simon. The clarity is devastating. But where is the ambiguity? It's over there in a box. Shunt is saying the 8:15 from Gillingham when in reality he means the 8:13 from Gillingham. The train is the same only the time is altered. Ecce homo, ergo elk. La Fontaine knew his sister and knew her bloody well. The point is taken, the beast is moulting, the fluff gets up your nose. The illusion is complete; it is reality, the reality is illusion and the ambiguity is the only truth. But is the truth, as Hitchcock observes, in the box? No there isn't room, the ambiguity has put on weight. The point is taken, the elk is dead, the beast stops at Swindon, Chabrol stops at nothing, I'm having treatment and La Fontaine can get knotted.

Roger Irrelevant would have been proud

Wibble wibble lobster vicar hat stand

[Mal Bridgeman]

Some people have made the mistake of seeing Shunt's work as a load of rubbish about railway timetables, but clever people like me, who talk loudly in restaurants, see this as a deliberate ambiguity, a plea for understanding in a mechanized world. The points are frozen, the beast is dead. What is the difference? What indeed is the point? The point is frozen, the beast is late out of Paddington. The point is taken. If La Fontaine's elk would spurn Tom Jones the engine must be our head, the dining car our esophagus, the guard's van our left lung, the cattle truck our shins, the first-class compartment the piece of skin at the nape of the neck and the level crossing an electric elk called Simon. The clarity is devastating. But where is the ambiguity? It's over there in a box. Shunt is saying the 8:15 from Gillingham when in reality he means the 8:13 from Gillingham. The train is the same only the time is altered. Ecce homo, ergo elk. La Fontaine knew his sister and knew her bloody well. The point is taken, the beast is moulting, the fluff gets up your nose. The illusion is complete; it is reality, the reality is illusion and the ambiguity is the only truth. But is the truth, as Hitchcock observes, in the box? No there isn't room, the ambiguity has put on weight. The point is taken, the elk is dead, the beast stops at Swindon, Chabrol stops at nothing, I'm having treatment and La Fontaine can get knotted.

Just what I was thinking too ..... except, as a homage to NickB, I would have spelled it oesophagus and changed the zee's to s's
Mal

[Morag]

Ahem.. I've not left the room you know..!

Oh, sorry

[Woz]

Some people have made the mistake of seeing Shunt's work as a load of rubbish about railway timetables, but clever people like me, who talk loudly in restaurants, see this as a deliberate ambiguity, a plea for understanding in a mechanized world. The points are frozen, the beast is dead. What is the difference? What indeed is the point? The point is frozen, the beast is late out of Paddington. The point is taken. If La Fontaine's elk would spurn Tom Jones the engine must be our head, the dining car our esophagus, the guard's van our left lung, the cattle truck our shins, the first-class compartment the piece of skin at the nape of the neck and the level crossing an electric elk called Simon. The clarity is devastating. But where is the ambiguity? It's over there in a box. Shunt is saying the 8:15 from Gillingham when in reality he means the 8:13 from Gillingham. The train is the same only the time is altered. Ecce homo, ergo elk. La Fontaine knew his sister and knew her bloody well. The point is taken, the beast is moulting, the fluff gets up your nose. The illusion is complete; it is reality, the reality is illusion and the ambiguity is the only truth. But is the truth, as Hitchcock observes, in the box? No there isn't room, the ambiguity has put on weight. The point is taken, the elk is dead, the beast stops at Swindon, Chabrol stops at nothing, I'm having treatment and La Fontaine can get knotted.

The kipper is balanced on the bookcase, Mrs Worthington. Please doff your Fedora when talking to the cheeseboard.

[Steve Summers]

I've done it!

It's takes months of hard work, but finally my instroketer announced today that I had failed to meet any performance requirements and she was thus happy to sign me off as a stroke 1 diver. I am exhausted but very happy.

My qualifying dives happened today in wraysbury. I was due to meet Scubee at 9am so deliberately set my alarm clock late and turned up 15 minutes late, apparantly a fundi-strokey skill, but one I have absolutely nailed. We talked about what we wanted to get out of the day, and Scubee made clear the necessity for not meeting any of the performance requirements. I was fired up, and thought I was ready.

So I hadn't remembered to put gas in my tank. My little there was in there was totally appropriate gas and therefore had to be dumped. So the 32% went into the atmosphere and the cylinder was refilled with good old fashioned air. We don't want any of these extended bottom times from nitrox no thank you.

Off for the first dive and I managed to lose her before we even got to a platform. I was absolutely on fire, things could not have been more strokey if I had tried. We met up again on the surface, and descended together. We did stay together this time unfortunately, but apparantly as I had already failed to descend together once she was happy to sign that off.

On the platform and we went through some trim and buoyancy skills. Mine were still a little bit good, and I was flatter in the water than I would have loked, but my trim has definitely got worse since starting my stroke training, and I was hitting the bottom repeatedly with my hands and knees. I performed a near flawless chinook turn, and there was a circular path of destruction in the silt around me I was delighted with. Once you know how to do this its incredibly simple and really useful if you want to kick the shit out of everything around you.

Back on the surface and we reviewed my kit. She was satisfied that I had added the required amount of cable ties, although she was a "little dissapointed" that there wasn't "more unecessary shit" attached to my harness. However, she was delighted to find breaks in both shoulder harnesses, and the 6 additional D rings I had on my harness obviously delighted her.

The second dive focussed on backwards kicking. apparantly I could still do it, and she wanted to see me flail about with both arms and both legs without actually going anywhere. It took quite an effort, but apparantly putting more effort in than is required is a good thing, and a true stroke will surface almost exhausted. Scubee demonstrated how to put a lot of effort in and hardly move backwards, and I just wacthed in awe. When I put that must effort in I move much quicker. Something to practice I guess. Anyway, she was happy at the end that I had done the necessary.

Well, I was shattered when I went home. I crashed out on the sofa for two hours. However, it was a great day in the sunshine. I learnt loads, and was finally rewarded with my Stroke 1 certificate, which I will treasure forever.

It will be some time before I begin training for stroke 2, so in the meantime I am just going to go and enjoy diving, apparantly this is the end goal of all stroke training, so I shall see how I get on and let you all know.

Excellent, you'll be ready to take the 'stroke' wreck penetration course now then?

Safe diving,
Steve