The Grateful Vine

Working on yachts has taught me many things: how to fold toilet paper into the shape of a boat, that you can always count on there being an Irish pub in almost every port in the world and step 1 of engineering: if somethings broken, turn it off and on again. 

Despite being rarely seen in the light of the day by many, a yacht would not be able to operate without the diligent engineer making sure that the generators are running, the air conditioning is cooling and of course, most importantly these days, that the internet is working. 

As a chief stewardess, I actually end up being around a lot of the engineer’s problems on a daily basis, and they would probably say: the cause of many. So, when they get my familiar call over the radio, I can almost hear them as they roll their eyes wondering why they studied so for so many years just to come to my aid to fix the printer..…again…

If you aren’t familiar with the position of a chief stewardess, a primary role is to constantly solve problems to make sure that everything is running smoothly for the guests (and crew) onboard. However this is often delegated to other people and departments so perhaps a better title on my desk would be ‘Director of Solutions’. I’m a jack of all trades with no proper training and am made to look far superior than I really am by the assistance of actually qualified and skilled persons such as engineers. 

But being around these skilled people does have its benefits, and over the years, I’ve managed to absorb, by association, some key skills. I can make a mean soup (thanks chefs), I know how to get sparkling clean windows (thanks deck) and I know the 2 primary stages for fixing things (thanks engineers).  Which, as well as the other skills mentioned here, have come in useful over the course of my time in Italy.

During one of the early visits to my house, I discovered that an outside tap was leaking. It was a very slow, steady drip, but due to the freezing temperatures at the time, it was quickly creating an ice rink on the terrace. So I flipped through my ‘engineering for dummies who watch other people fix things’ mental handbook and figured that the O-ring probably needed replacing. I turned the water off before carefully taking the whole tap apart and assessing the issue. I decided, in my unqualified opinion, that even though it wasn’t particularly degraded, the O-ring had to be the source of the problem and the solution was to replace it. 

Unfortunately for this director, I had no one to task with solving this problem and so it was up to me to go to the hardware store, pick out a lovely new O-ring and put it in place before carefully screwing the tap back together. I stood back and proudly admired my handiwork and turned the water back on at the mains.

I was about to celebrate with a glass of the finest Italian bubbles at my triumph of workwomanship, until, a moment later the infuriating ‘drip, drip’ began again. 

So, I consulted my mental engineer handbook once again and rummaged through my tool box, and as I hope many will understand, I turned to the only logical and obvious solution left and hit the fitting hard with a hammer! Eureka – it worked! Step 2 in engineering: mastered. 

But, what I have also learnt from yachting is that quick fixes will often end up costing you more in the long run….

A year later, in the middle of winter, I arrived at my house after some time away. It was 1am, and I was tired and cold and looking forward to getting the fire on and climbing into bed. But first I had to get the power on, plug the boiler in and turn the water on. As I opened the mains tap It suddenly sounded like a waterfall had appeared in my garden – and going back to the front of the house I could see the same previously leaky tap had now become Niagara Falls and was creating a Great Lake out of my terrace.  

With my car headlights on to illuminate the situation, it quickly became apparent that I lacked both the tools and the emotional ability to tackle this in the dead of night. So, after filling some bottles with water, I turned the mains off again and proceeded to get the fire on.

With no running water, I found myself camping inside my house –  brushing my teeth and attempting to ‘shower’ from a (very cold) bottle of water. As I lay in bed, listening to the eerie hoot of an owl outside, I couldn’t help but wonder why I ever thought that taking this on alone was a good idea.

The next morning, however, after a cup of tea surrounded by vineyards with the Alps as a backdrop, I was filled with a renewed sense of determination to fix the tap… or, if all else failed, resign myself to indoor camping. Anything was worth this view.

The tap was clearly beyond repair, and so rusted that no amount of WD40 would loosen it. So in order to unscrew it I had to work my way pretty far back until I found a fitting that wasn’t so badly tarnished. This meant that I entered the hardware store with about 30cm worth of pipe with an old tap on the end and a clearly ‘out of her depth’ look on my face.

Armed with some shaky Italian, a lot of hand gestures, and Google Translate, I left with a new tap and what I hoped was the right fitting.

Back at the ranch- after several watches of a youtube tutorial – I successfully plumbed my new outdoor tap. With my fingers crossed (and also now numb with cold), I turned the mains back on.

It worked! I had upgraded my technical skills to plumbing!

As I proudly surveyed my craftsman ship, I couldn’t help but hear my old chief engineer’s voice in my head “…nice one Jess…but are all taps usually at that angle…?”