maritime

 Three generations of seafaring A seamen’s discharge book is a record of the employment of a seafarer. All seafarers need one and it is issued by the maritime authority of the country the seafarer is a citizen of. [1] I am lucky to have the discharge books of my grandfather, father and myself over a period of 80 years. Collectively they tell a story of ships, employment and voyages from the 1890’s to the 1970’s. This article will describe the changes in discharge book entries over three generations. The hard bound cover of the book has changed little over this period. The colours and wording may have changed on the covers but from the black edition of my grandfather through the red one of my father to my blue one, they all serve the same purpose, to catalogue the voyages of the holder and provide a character reference for each voyage. You might be wondering why there are 4 books for three mariners. The twist and turns of our time at sea through two world wars will reveal ...

  In the fifth form at Acklam Hall Grammar School, I was faced with a dilemma. GCE examinations were to take place, the result of which were crucial in deciding whether to continue to sixth form for two years and another set of exams. The A levels are precursors to applying for a university place. Therefore, results in both GCSE and A level exams were important. By only creeping past 11 plus exams by interview after failure in the exam itself, coupled with my poor academic performance at grammar school, did not bode well for further study. On the other hand, it would mean two more years of rugby! The results of my GCE examinations would be crucial here. I got five passes out of eight subjects. It seemed OK. However, my brother got 7 out of eight sitting a year earlier as a fourth former! On reflection, the thought of five more years of study at school and university if I were successful in A levels which are much more specialised and harder was not appealing and I decided to ...

Acklam Hall grammar school Five years of my teenage life was spent at Acklam Grammar School. And the school intention was that these years would turn me into an intelligent and capable adult, ready to take on a further higher education in university.   It did not turn out like that. My intelligence, as measured by academic achievement and progression, did not improve. And I remained bottom of my class in all five years. However, there was a slight improvement in the 5th year. That year was renamed 5G rather than 5C, supposedly because it included the German language in our class schedule. Capability was a different asset. I seemed to develop a skill that always got me into trouble. A few examples will demonstrate that hidden character in me that blossomed in those years. The target for such behaviour was often a teacher or classmate. Hilton of the woodwork incident was often the victim. Once we locked him in the classroom cupboard and only a question by the teacher about ...

 Acklam Hall Grammar School I remember the day the term 11 plus was mentioned. It was one spring day and dad said “son”, he always called me son, your 11 plus exam is soon. Are you prepared? Well, the answer was no, I had not even heard of it. Apparently, it is a written exam. The results of which determined whether you follow a route to university education or secondary school and a trades career like plumbing or building.   A sort of intelligence test as they called them in the 1950’s. The day arrived and we were given a pamphlet full of questions. Of which we had a set period of time to complete. You need to remember that in the 1950’s the UK was not metric, far from it. It had its own weird set of standards. For instance, money, pounds, shillings, and pence. 12 pennies to a shilling, 20 shillings to a pound plus half pennies and farthings. Worse was length with fractions of an inch, feet, and yards stop. 3/8 of an inch, 2 feet, 6 inches, etc. Then there was weights a...

  My mothers early years - written by my brother Peter Douglas We were in my Father’s Day cabin.   He wanted me to meet the officers prior to the ship sailing across the Atlantic.   Mother had died 3 years before and I had already travelled on a couple of voyages with my shipmaster father.   This promised to be as exciting as the others. No doubt Dad hoped that somewhere I would find someone who was prepared to put up with what he called my feisty nature and marry me before my 30th birthday.   There wasn’t long to go.   Maybe there would be someone in Savannah our first stop, someone like Rhett Butler the hero in the new book I was reading.   The Chief Engineer was like so many other engineers I had met, a dour Scotsman, the First Mate a Geordie, and the Wireless Operator from Hull.   The second mate was on watch, but my father called the Third Mate up from supervising the last of the cargo loading.    Mum is in the middle and Dad ...