From Birkenhead to Bandar Seri Begawan and Bishkek

Work projects were moving along well, included the upgrade to a new, (at least to me) system of navigation lights, mandatory to allow larger planes to land, once the ongoing airstrip extension was completed. Accuracy of light alignment was essential for landing planes, but with only technical documents for the installation, I was a bit nervous, as definitive checking needed data confirmation from incoming flights. Luckily a chat with a friendly pilot got me aloft and we did several dummy approaches, allowing inspection from the pilot’s cockpit view. Subsequently, a little tweaking was all that was needed to certify accurate alignment and allow larger planes to land as scheduled. 

With the superb facilities provided for staff and the great esprit de corps, it was little wonder; Dasites employed their recreation time in inventive and imaginative ways. BP staff was for the most part, recruited from their main refineries and production sites and consequently were intuitively well organised. There were a large percentage of men from the Llandarcy and Baglan Bay plants in South Wales and groups from the Hull and Kent refineries, but the largest contingent were from the Scottish operations at Boness, Grangemouth and Aberdeen. The organisational ability manifested it’s self in the proliferation of clubs and dedicated societies that flourished on the island. With free access to the fine catering available, there also developed a tradition of annual events planned by the various groups, not least St David’s and St. Georges Day dinners, with traditional home fare on the menu and the Burns Society, which excelled in memorable evenings, complete with full Scottish Highland dress, pipers, imported haggis and salmon, entertaining speeches and much sipping of fine distilled malt.

It is not a requirement to be an Irishman to celebrate St Patrick’s Day of course, so even with just a few Irish members, the Oasis Club committee provided an evening of entertainment in deference. I was amazed by the number of talented musicians and entertainers among the expat staff and impressed with how they unerringly gave their free time when called upon. Less surprising however, was discovering the guys in my own engineering team, were always prominent in the organising of ad hoc entertainment, such was the great camaraderie and team spirit generated.

I was assigned to building a new stage, but my scheming pals, citing my heightened sense of humour, arbitrarily decided; I was ripe for a few gags on the evening and added me to the show cast. They were considerate enough however to tell me just a few days before the event.

I had been brought up on Merseyside when local comic talent was exploding into national prominence in UK, in parallel with the Beatles phenomenon. Comedians that later became huge international stars could then be seen in local clubs and pubs nightly. My work on sites in that era, almost guaranteed I was exposed to new jokes on a daily basis, as humour for Merseyside people, came as naturally as breathing. I had also been involved in the fit-out of entertainment venues which gave me access to see some of the best standup comedians in the business. I have to admit, I was occasionally disappointed in some comics and had the vain notion that I could have delivered some of the gags better myself. On my first St Patrick’s night on Das Island I was now forced to test out the validity of my notion, after being more or less press ganged into an involuntary performance. I was always game for a bit of banter however and so I put together a script that would hopefully keep me on stage for about 20 minutes. In the spirit of the evening, I had an emerald green bow-tie to compliment the suit I had made by the island’s tailor, complete with (then fashionable) trousers, featuring flares big enough, for me to practically  take two steps inside, before moving forward.

My stage debut was received far better than I expected and even included a call for an encore. I had used a tip picked up from watching professionals and kept a couple of the better gags in reserve, as a way to prompt an audience to remember the last jokes and leave them wanting more. My first work tour was completed the next day however, so I would have to wait until I returned from leave, before getting the full impact of what that first gig would lead to.            

The day after St Patrick’s Day and in advance of my impending flight home, I went to the club to collect any mail for posting in UK. The club manager, Ron Forrest, a master of menus and understated humour, kindly offered me some caviar to take home with me, as he apparently had over stocked and didn’t wish to be embarrassed when he was audited later that week. Naturally, I couldn’t be rude and decline his kind offer and so happily tucked six jars of caviar in my bag.