The Diving Museum

The Diving Museum

Further to my previous blog about how how frustrating Gosport can be because of all it's hidden gems, I want to mention The Diving Museum.

This small and highly specialised museum is hidden in away in No 2 Battery at the eastern end of Stokes Bay. The Battery was part of the ring of defences around Portsmouth Harbour, which included the Palmerston Follies. The museum was opened earlier this year by The Historical Diving Society and it's manned by volunteers from that society.

We paid our 2 quid entry fee  and were pounced upon by one of the volunteers, an ex Royal Navy diver, who offered to show us around and explain the exhibits. And this he did with obvious relish and certainly a deep knowledge of his subject. The museum has exhibits from the early days of commercial diving in the 19th century right up to modern sports diving (using equipment supplied by BSAC) and saturation diving. There's a good balance between civillian and military diving and between commercial and sports diving and no shortage of exhibits with thre being lots of examples in each category.

What became clear right at the beginning of the tour, was that Gosport was the birthplace of modern commercial diving:

It is not yet popularly known, but Gosport is the home of the global diving industry. The co-inventor of the diving helmet, John Deane, lived in Gosport from 1835 to 1845 during which time he discovered the Mary Rose. The first diving helmet ever sold by the inventors was to a Gosport mariner, Henry Abbinett. Gosport represents a natural home for the country's premier historical diving museum.
(from www.divingmuseum.co.uk)

Apart from my sports diving interest, I was really pleased to make a connection with one of the other exhibits. When I was a baby sailor on HMS GALATEA in 1974, I was sent off to Fort Bovisand, near Plymouth to train as a Swimmer of the Watch. We had to don a 3 piece diving suit made up of a top and bottom, the two open ends of which are rolled together before being covered with a cummerbund. And I was chuffed to see that same suit being exhibited!

So this is Gosport's 4th museum. It already has the Submarine Museum, Explosion!, and the local natural history museum  The town also has it's 17th century village, and the Institute of Naval Medicine holds many artefacts and historical papers from the history of the Royal Naval Medical Branch. 

That's very nearly an armful

It was the regular blood donor session in Gosport tonight. I walked in at 18.22 to find the place was mobbed. It was another hour and 40 minutes before my turn came. I spent my time, as I always do, dozing.  It's one of those times when I get that satisfaction from seeing the good that people can do, quite unselfishly. Everyone's there because they want to be and without enticement - apart from a cup of tea and a biscuit.

There's always a good mix of ages from teenagers who are giving at their first opportunity, to 'senior' donors who have been giving for yonks. There's skinny folks and pudgy folks. And there's ALWAYS the one or two who get a bit flaky and have to have 'The Wet Towel of Recovery' on their heads and sip from the 'Disposable Cup of Orange Squash'.

This is the side of people I like to see. I much prefer to see this going on than riots in Tottenham, or crappy posts on Facebook falsely comparing grannies on benefits to 'immigrants', or posts begrudging the fractional amount we spend on aid. People, just do those little things that help someone else, and without expecting something in return and this will be an even more wonderful place in which to live.

Give blood england and north wales 96% of us rely on the other 4% to give blood. Please don’t leave it to someone else.


And if you want THAT bit, jump to 4m 20s

For someone who brought pleasure to many and who will do so only in memories now

High Flight

 Oh! I have slipped the surly bonds of Earth

 And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings;

 Sunward I’ve climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth

 of sun-split clouds, — and done a hundred things

 You have not dreamed of — wheeled and soared and swung

 High in the sunlit silence. Hov’ring there,

 I’ve chased the shouting wind along, and flung

 My eager craft through footless halls of air....

 Up, up the long, delirious, burning blue

 I’ve topped the wind-swept heights with easy grace.

 Where never lark, or even eagle flew —

 And, while with silent lifting mind I have trod

 The high untrespassed sanctity of space,

 - Put out my hand, and touched the face of God.

by John Gillespie Magee

Gosport is so frustrating

Let me explain why. Yesterday, I went out for a ride around the periphery of this old maritime town. My ride took me through the town to to Portsmouth Harbour at a spot called Monk's Walk, down through Hardway, Clarence Yard, Haslar, Gilkicker, and Stokes Bay. Once I got out of the first built-up part I was into some woods that led down to the water's edge and I had great view across to Whale Island and Fountain Lake, that view only disturbed by the sad sight of 3 Type 42 destroyers out on the trot, awaiting disposal. As I cycled on a bit further I passed both The Jolly Roger and The Old House At Home pubs, and both good looking pubs, unlike some of the dives in Gosport, both busy, both with people sat outside enjoying the sun.

From there it was along the water's edge to Explosion! and a little goofing as I cycled through. I was a little taken aback by the sight of a 4.5" Mk 6 turret, something I'd not seen so close since I trained on one in HMS Cambridge in 1974. Explosion! is yet another old Naval site where some of it has been refurbished and revitalised and opened to the public whilst other areas have new houses built on them. It looks good and reassuringly intact.

Leaving the old munitions site, I was able to look across to Portsmouth dockyard and see HMS VICTORY standing out in her historic, unique colours against the modern grey of  our most modern warship, a Type 45 Daring class destroyer. My journey then took me over a bridge and into Clarence Yard, which was the old victualling yard for the dockyard. It's now a collection of apartments but its origins are still evident by such names as The Old Bakery and The Slaughterhouse. Again, there's been a lot of refurbishment here but many apartments and the shops are still awaiting occupancy. Nonetheless, its another pristine and tastefully preserved area. I cycled on in to town and along the seawall looking over to Portsmouth. Passing the Falklands Gardens I rode along past the marinas to Haslar Bridge where, once I passed the family fishing at the water's edge, I seemed to leave people behind. Over the bridge, I could see that the Submarine Museum car park was very busy but saw no pedestrians. The headwind down the road between the old Naval Hospital and the Marine Technology Park made me puff but it didn't stop me hoping that the plans for Haslar come to fruition.

On to the sea front at Gilkicker, the Victorian fort, to see HMS ILLUSTRIOUS anchored out in the Solent, as guard ship for the Clipper Round The World Race, Ensign and Jack flying at each end. The shingle was  busy with people, the bushes and brambles busy with different fruits, the whole sea front busy with so many different plants. Once over the shingle and back on the tarmac, it was clear that so many people take the opportunity to walk along the whole promenade enjoying the wonderful views across to the Isle of Wight. From there it was ride along Stokes Bay, seeing a couple of swimmers, a windsurfer, hundreds of sailing craft, and a busy crazy gold course. Once clear of the bay, it was into Privett Park to see cricketers playing, on a beautifully green pitch, the pavilion with a few sat outside with pints. And then home.

There are so many little corners of Gosport, that are green or full of flowers and all well-tended. It has a some great waterfront areas, a lot of history and a lot of lucky people.

And yet, the town centre is dying. Estate agents, pound shops, gaming places, charity shops and little else. It's such a shame.

From the Submarine Guide of the Year, as voted for by readers of Bunty (Google it)

I know you all like to keep up to date with the comings and goings of the visitors to HMS ALLIANCE, so here's today's report.

A really busy day today with the Waterbus bringing over loads of folks on the Big Ticket, even though the Submarine Museum gets very little of that ticket price. The cosmopolitan crowd today included Germans, a German doctor and his family, more Germans a family from Cape Town, the father of which has done the Comrades Marathon in about 7 hours, some French folks, a colleague from work with his family, inclusive of fun and extrovert daughter, ex submariners from the Amphion class and the Oberon class, a guy who had been on the Port crew of HMS REVENGE (my boat and crew) but a couple of years after me, and 6 US servicemen from RAF Molesowrth, who seemed jolly nice chaps. Oh yes, and lots of other people.

We did start doing tours but we became overwhelmed by the numbers coming off the Waterbus, so ran a free-flow system to allow people to see the boat but still be able to chat to a guide if they wished. That works well to 'break the back' of the numbers, and allows us to revert to tours if we're able.

Oh, by the way. Harbour Stations, the onsite cafe, does a mean mocha

Hell on Utøya

This is the Google translation of the blog of Prableen Kaur. The original page can be found here

Hell on Utøya

I woke up. I can not sleep more. I'm sitting in the living room. Feeling grief, anger, happiness, God, I do not know what. There are too many emotions. There are too many thoughts. I'm afraid. I react to the slightest sound. I will write about what happened on Utøya. What my eyes saw, what I felt, what I did. The words come straight from the liver, but I would also anonymize many names out of respect for my friends.

We had a crisis meeting in the main building after the explosions in Oslo. After that there was a meeting for members of Akershus and Oslo. After the meetings were many, many people around and in the main building. We consoled ourselves that we were safe on an island. No one knew that hell would break out with us too.

I stood in the main time when panic broke out. I heard shots. I saw him shoot. All started to run. The first thought was: "Why shoot the police on us? What the hell? "I ran into the little room. People ran. Screamed. I was scared. I managed to get into one of the rooms at the back of the building. We were many in there. We lay on the floor all together. We heard several shots. Were more afraid. I cried. I knew nothing. I saw my best friend through the window and wondered if I should go out and bring him to me. I did not. I saw fear in his eyes. We were lying on the floor inside the room for a few minutes. We agreed not to release more in case the killer came. We heard several shots and decided to jump out the window. Panic broke out among us. All in the room rushed to the window and tried to jump out. I was the last and thought: "I am the last to jump out the window.Now I'm dying. I'm sure, but it might be okay, then I know that the others are safe. "I kasket my bag out the window. Tried to managed down, but lost her grip. I landed hard on the left part of the body. A boy helped me up. We ran into the woods. I looked around."Is he here? Shoot him for me? Viewing him myself? "A girl had a broken ankle. Another was severely injured. I tried to help a little bit before I went down to the water. I sought cover behind a sort of brick wall. We were many. I prayed, prayed, prayed. I hope that God saw me. I called Mom and said that it was not safe we ​​would meet again, but that I would do anything to clear me. I said several times that I loved her. I heard fear in her voice. She cried. It hurt. I sent a text message to my dad, told him I loved him. I sent a text message to another person I am very, very happy in. We were a little contact. I sent a text message to my best friend. He did not answer. We heard several shots. Snuggled together. Did everything we could to keep warm. There were so many thoughts. I was so scared. My dad called me. I cried, said I loved him. He said he was going with my brother to take me welcome when I come across to the mainland, or they came to the island.There were so many emotions. So many thoughts. I told everything I could. It took some time. The other called parents eventually started all texting for fear that the killer would hear us. I thought of my sister who's away. How I would tell her how it went? What happened to me. I updated on Twitter and Facebook that I was still alive and that I was "safe." I wrote that I was waiting for the police. People jumped into the water, started swimming. I was lying. I decided that if he did, I would play dead. I would not run or swim.I can not describe the fear, all your mind, what I felt.

A one came. "I'm from the police." I was lying. Some shouted back that he had to prove it. I do not remember exactly what he said, but the killer started shooting. He charged.Extension more. He shot those around me. I was lying. I think: "Now it's over. He's here.He takes me. Now I'm dying. "People screamed. I heard that others were shot. Others jumped into the water. I was there. The mobile phone in hand. I lay on top of the legs of a girl. Thurs the 2nd was on top of my leg. I was lying. The insert in text messages. The mobile phone rang several times. I was lying. I played dead. I lay there for at least an hour. It was completely quiet. I gently turned her head to see if I could see someone live.I looked like. I saw blood. Fear. I decided to get up. I had been lying on top of a dead body. Thurs like lying to me. I had a guardian angel.  did not know if he would come back again. I had not the courage to look at all those who had called and texted me. I hurried down to the water. I took off my sweater. It was great. I thought it would be difficult to swim to me. I considered whether I should bring my cell phone or leave it again. I put it in his back pocket and jumped into the water. I saw several others in the water. They had swum far. I saw that someone had gathered around a floating luftbåt or something like that. There were many who picked up those who swam out. I swam, swam, and swam towards the air thing. I screamed. Weep. Was cool. I thought of when I would drown. It was heavier and heavier. I asked. I continued.Was tired arms. Decided to turn my back and just use your legs to swim on. I sank. I started to swim normally again. A little while I thought they had gathered around the air boat began to move away. I screamed. Begged them to wait for me. I must have seen visions. I swam at least a few hundred meters before I arrived. We talked a little together.Did what we called, where we came from. When the boats passed us shouting for help, but they picked up the others just swam first. A man in a boat came to us. He threw out several life jackets. I got hold of one. Got it on me. I held on to the small air boat a long time until the same man came back to pick us up. All got into it. He began to run towards the shore. After a while it started small his boat to take in some water. I did everything I could to get the most water out. I used a bucket. I was exhausted. Another girl in the boat took over. We came to the country. We got blankets. Tears pressed on. I cried more. A woman hugged me. It was so good. I wept aloud. I sobbed. A man lent me his phone. I called my dad, "I live. I did it. Now I am safe. "I hung up. Cry more. We had to walk a bit. Completely unknown people took us into their cars and drove us to Sundvollen hotel. I ran in to see if I could see my best friend. I saw him at any place. I saw a friend. I cried loudly. We hugged each other for long. It was good. I walked around, looking for friends. My heart pounded. I cried more. I signed up with the police, then through all the lists. I did not know about my best friend lived. I looked through all the lists. I could not find his name anywhere. I was scared. I got a duvet. I took off my wet socks. I was half naked. Got a jacket. I tried to dial a bit. Contacted my parents again. My dad and brother were on their way to fetch me. I drank some cocoa. I sat down. Thought. Weep. So many friends. Hugged them. Weep. I borrowed a computer. Updated the Facebook and Twitter again that I was safe. I was at the hotel for several hours before my family came.I looked for familiar. I talked to a priest. I told all I had seen. It was a good call. A man from the Red Cross saw all my wounds. Cleanse them. Time passed. I was with some of my friends. All talked about the same. How we survived. What had happened. I asked several if they had seen my best friend. No one had seen him. I was scared. I thought that it was my fault because we had not managed to stay together. A friend got the key to a hotel room. We sat there, looked at the news. There was anger, sorrow, so many emotions. My dad called, they had come. I took the elevator down. Run out to them.Hugged my brother and my dad a long time. I wept aloud. My brother was crying too. It was a good moment. I saw a boy who looked like my best friend. I shouted his name. He turned around. It was him. We hugged each other for long. Both crying, we asked each other how we had managed. After a while, I registered myself and we drove home.Someone else sat in with us. My best friend was with me. His brother had come to me with his best friend. There were several who had gathered at my home. They would not go home until they had seen that I was fine. We talked a little bit. I drank a juice Gladden.Ate a yogurt. Talked some more with my mom and my family. I called my best friend. It was a good call. She said: "I was not sure if I would ever get this phone." Tears pressed on. We talked a little bit. After that I lay. It was three. Mom refused to let me sleep alone, so we slept together.

There have been several hours since all this happened. I'm still in shock. Everything has not fallen into. I have seen the corpses of my friends. Several of my friends are missing. I am glad that I can swim. I am glad that I live. For that God watched over me. There are so many emotions, so many thoughts. I think of all the relatives. In all I lost. In the hell that is and was on the island. This summer's most beautiful fairy tale is transformed into Norway's worst nightmare.

Mark, Amy and 74 Norwegians

I must admit I've found it difficult to match the displays of sentiment shown for Ms Winehouse in these past couple of days- but then it seems I'm so often out of step with others! With her death coming on the same day as  the deaths of 74 Norwegians I tried to balance the two but was unable to find even an ounce of sympathy for AW. Her death was of her own choosing, no doubt originating in her choice to take drugs and to drink excessively. And it IS a choice. It's a choice made of free will that takes people along a treacherous path, often to self destruction. There are those who see no problem with her becoming a drunk and a druggie, rather seeing it as a sign of her independence, as a symbol of her creativity and the bizarre thing is, people are leaving vodka bottles at the streetside memorial.

Compare her death with that of those who were simply going about their daily lives in Oslo, looking forward to the weekend, or the young people gathered together for a summer camp on Utøya, no doubt also having fun and enjoying the association with like-minded peers. It's impossible to imagine the terror that must have gone through the minds of all those involved but for those young people to lose friends, to see them being killed in such a callous way and with such terrble ammunition, must surely damage them for life. On the plus side, what Anders Behring Breivik seems to have done is bring the nation even closer together, rather than eschew the multi-culturalism and plurality that this hate-filled Christian (explain THAT one) wants to see disappear.


Oh, and Mark? That will be the late Corporal Mark Palin of the 1st Battalion, The Rifles, killed in a bomb blast whilst attempting to neutralise near complete IEDs. He leaves a son and a pregnant wife. His funeral will go unremarked by many bar his family, his colleagues and the residents of a small market town in Wiltshire.