Pontoon Boat Plans | More banner adverts

Pontoon Boat Plans

(Third in an occasional series)

I drew attention in two previous posts to large banner adverts displayed in Venice (Monday, 13 February 2012) and in Paris (Tuesday, 7 August 2012). The point of those two posts was that even in very sensitive locations, in terms of the historic townscape, the authorities in those cities are prepared to allow the display of banner adverts on buildings which are shrouded during the execution of repairs and maintenance. Bearing in mind that such advertising displays are, by their very nature, temporary, there can be no serious objection to such advertising to hide the paraphernalia of building work and scaffolding. Where the work comprises conservation of the historic fabric, the advertising revenue could even contribute to the cost of restoration.

The essential point I was seeking to make, is that if the city authorities in Venice are prepared to allow such temporary banner adverts in a World Heritage Site, such as the Piazza San Marco or, if the City of Paris is happy to allow them in the Place Vendôme, then there really can’t be any objection to similar short-term adverts in this country, even in conservation areas or World Heritage Sites, where they serve to hide the detritus of building work. And there certainly can’t be any objection to such advertising in the average and often undistinguished town centres of many English towns and cities.

I visited Venice again a month or so ago and, as I had expected, the Doge’s Palace is now visible in all its glory, sans advertising, as is the Bridge of Sighs, which had been similarly hidden from view on my last visit. The east front of Sansovino’s Library, facing onto the Piazzetta is also now free of advertising, but restoration work is continuing on various other parts of the Palazzo Reale, and so banner adverts are currently displayed over the shrouding on the south front of the Zucca (facing onto the Mole) and also at the west end of the Piazza San Marco (the range added to the palace by Napoleon, and now forming part of the Museo Correr). The accompanying photos illustrate these adverts.

[The “Caro” adverts on the façade of the Museo Correr would probably have been there anyway, as they were advertising a display in the museum of sculptures by the British artist, Anthony Caro, which was part of the Biennale.]

I doubt whether we will ever overcome the precious attitudes of town planners in this country to outdoor advertising, and so the only practical way of ensuring that banner adverts can be displayed in future on buildings under repair (or awaiting demolition, such as the late unlamented Tollgate House in Bristol), without being obstructed or frustrated by over-zealous town planners, is to amend the Control of Advertisements Regulations to give deemed to consent to such adverts.

Uncle Eric has demonstrated his enthusiasm for flying flags; so perhaps he should now embrace the joys of outdoor advertising in the same way.

© MARTIN H GOODALL


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Boat Plans Wood | Yo ho ho and duty to be done

Boat Plans Wood

I REMEMBER once sailing past Dead Man’s Chest Island  in the British Virgin Islands, where 15 men are reputed to have been stranded with one bottle of rum. I remember it because I’ve often thought that one bottle of rum wouldn’t have gone far among 15 sailors in the old days. They were mighty topers in those days.

Sailors of the British Royal Navy were first officially supplied with a daily ration of rum in 1655, a privilege that lasted 325 years until the 1970s, and they drank prodigious quantities of it. In fact, a 20th-century British newspaper reporter revealed that Breathalyzer tests had shown that sailors could be legally drunk after drinking their rum rations.

Those rations amounted to 7 or 8 ounces of pure rum a day, the equivalent of about five cocktails for every man jack who claimed it, and I imagine there were very few who didn’t. I can’t imagine scrambling up the rigging, hanging upside down from the futtock shrouds, after five cocktails downed in one gulp. But it was quite normal procedure for them.

It didn’t necessarily make for more efficient ship handling, however, and this fact was not lost on the British Admiralty. But it took until 1740 for something to be done about it. That was when Admiral Edward Vernon ordered that the rum be diluted: one quart of water to every half-pint of rum.

Vernon’s nickname among the sailors was Old Grogram because he wore a coat of a material known as grogram,  a sort of waterproof foul-weather outfit.

So the new diluted rum ration became known as grog, and Old Grogram wasn’t too popular among the troops, even though the amount of rum was not reduced. It just didn’t have the same sudden shock value as raw rum.

When naval ships began to be run by computers, and carried missiles with nuclear warheads, it was inevitable that landlubbers would start worrying about the alcohol content of the people with their fingers on the buttons. On July 31, 1970, British navy ships around the globe stopped serving rum to the sailors. The sailors wore black armbands and organized mock funerals.

So it’s up to us, folks, it’s up to us amateur sailors  to resurrect the grand old tradition that will surely be forgotten and lost in the mists of time if we don’t do something about it. We don’t have futtock shrouds to worry about, so it shouldn’t be a problem. Grab your bottle of Pusser’s or Black Seal and do your duty. Cheers.

 Today’s Thought

The great utility of rum has given it the medical name of an antifogmatic. The quantity taken every morning is inexact proportion to the thickness of the fog.

— Unknown, Massachusetts Spy, 12 Nov 1789

Tailpiece

“Did you find a good math tutor for your son?”

“Yeah, he’s great. Even his teeth have square roots.”

(Drop by every Monday, Wednesday, Friday for a new Mainly about Boats column.)

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Yacht Boat Plans | The duty to co operate

Yacht Boat Plans

My former colleague, David Brock (who is only ‘former’ because he has now retired from active legal practice – lucky chap) posted an extremely interesting item on his blog last Friday, which I suggest that those interested in strategic planning and in the provision of strategic housing land would find it well worthwhile to read. A direct link to David’s blog will be found in the left-hand margin on this page.

I don’t propose to repeat or précis David’s piece, as you will no doubt read it yourself, but it does point up in very clear terms the complete failure of the ‘duty to co-operate’ (introduced by the Localism Act) to replace the gaping hole in strategic planning that has resulted from Uncle Eric’s ill-advised abolition of the Regional Strategies.

It reminds me of that well-known line in the Laurel and Hardy films – “Here’s another fine mess you’ve got me into, Ollie.” (No prizes for guessing which members of our wonderful coalition government could be cast in the respective parts of Laurel and of Hardy!)

© MARTIN H GOODALL


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Boat Plans Pdf | Words will never hurt you

Boat Plans Pdf

IT STRUCK ME RECENTLY that we sometimes go too far with this business of political correctness. I mean, this business of shouting at the crew. It has somehow become politically incorrect to shout at one’s crewmembers, no matter how imbecilic their actions, no matter how little attention they pay to their duties. No matter, in other words, how much they deserve it.

Surely it is not incorrect to flay their skins with words, rather than the cat-o’-nine-tails that would have been used in the old days? Surely there is too much whining from the lower decks about the cruelty of skippers and mates? Have they forgotten about sticks and stones? Have they forgotten that words can never hurt you?

The author Mark Twain, who worked on river boats, knew a thing or two about cursing the crew when they deserved it. Here’s what he had to say about it:

“If the landsman should wish the gang-plank moved a foot farther forward, he would probably say: ‘James, or William, one of you push that plank forward, please.’ But put the mate in his place and he would roar out:

“Here now, start that gang-plank for’ard! Lively, now! What’re you about? Snatch it! Snatch it! There! There! Aft again!  Don’t you hear me? Dash it to dash! Are you going to sleepover it? Vast heaving! Vast heaving, I tell you! Going to heave it clear astern? WHERE are you going with that barrel! For’ard with it ’fore I make you swallow it, you dash-dash-dash-dashed split between a tired mud-turtle and a crippled hearse-horse!”

Of course, Mr. Twain wasn’t able to print the real language the mate used instead of dashes. Mates and skippers usually have much on their minds. They bear grave responsibilities for the safety of the ship and the people on board. A little shouting in the right place at the right time helps them to relax and concentrate on their duties.

I think it’s important for crew to understand this, and not to take verbal reprimands too personally. This is especially important in the case of a male skipper who might on the odd occasion, the very odd occasion, direct a harsh word or two at his wife or girl friend in the heat of the moment. He is not being politically incorrect. He’s just mad at you for doing something specially dumb. I mean, even dumber than usual. But don’t worry. This, too, shall pass.

Today’s Thought

In certain trying circumstances, urgent circumstances, desperate circumstances, profanity furnishes a relief denied even to prayer.

— Mark Twain, Pudd’nhead Wilson’s Calendar

Tailpiece

“Do you plead guilty to shooting your wife with a bow and arrow?”

“Yes, Your Honor.”

“Why did you do it?”

“I didn’t want to wake the kids, Your Honor.”

(Drop by every Monday, Wednesday, Friday for a new Mainly about Boats column.)

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