So they build an airfield and then find out it’s too windy – you couldn’t make it up, could you.
However it gives me a chance to tell you of my very small part in the history of this remote outpost. Back in the mid to late Eighties I worked for the purchasing arm of my local county council. We were tasked with sourcing equipment, furniture and educational supplies for a large(ish) new school being built on the island, which was named after Prince Andrew (who was then still basking in the glow from his heroic exploits in the Falklands). A lot of the more mundane items were delivered to our site where yours truly had been tasked with packing the stuff into large wooden crates. These crates were a metre square, lined with tar paper, weighed about 500 lbs. each and cost a small fortune. Muggins here spent many hours in a draughty outbuilding putting all manner of stuff into these crates, nailing the lids on , strapping with steel bands and estimating the weight. The tedium was only broken by the fact that I worked closely with an extremely nice young lady who was responsible for the paperwork. These crates were duly despatched to Avonmouth docks for loading onto the ‘old’ RMS St. Helena, which was retired at the end of that decade. After a couple of months at sea crates duly arrived off the island where they were craned over the side onto lighters and then ashore. Nothing was wasted from these consignments – the crates were taken apart and used for all manner of buildings, fences etc. The nails were straightened and reused, even the steel banding had an afterlife. Very resourceful people, these St. Heleners.
I never got a thank you for all my efforts.
I never said it was going to be interesting, thanks for sticking with me.
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