Wives matter

My late father suffered from mal de Mer so my mother took over most of the interior yachting whilst father scanned the horizon …..but m y father was in charge of the boats direction ,woe be tied if he ignored my mothers advice and they ended up in a pickle…….”I told you we should have gone the other way” she would say😂
 
Sole master aboard under God - with my wife's permission to say so.

I am very definitely the captain of our boat - sole responsibility for the safe conduct of the vessel, but Madame's the admiral. She decides where we're going, and I carry out her wishes. If I deem it unsafe or otherwise unwise to do something, I can, but like the captain who disobeys his admiral, there may be consequences.
 
Thank you for that. My first flat was in Putney, a short walk from Telegraph Road and now a pub in the converted building.

Fresh Food & Cask Ales - The Telegraph, Putney Heath
I used to live on Telegraph Hill in SE London, which I'm pretty sure got its name from the same source. Unfortunately, the Luftwaffe still seemed to think it was still being used for the same purpose, so there's quite a bit of infill housing in the neighbourhood.
 
These signal stations reminds me of Ostend. On the pier they had a system of balls, diamonds & cones etc on 2 hoists. These told one if one could enter or not. The signal operator got the instructions from a similar signal station by the port control where it is now. They also had a mast set for weather reports just to confuse the first time visitor. This was all shown in the admiralty pilot books at the time.
But between the 2 there would be delays, or missinterpretation & it would not be unusual for one to be sailing serenly in to the port to be met by a ferry reversing out at a rate of knots, steered by a rudder in the bow. Much hooter blowing & upping & downing of balls & cones Etc. A selection of wires across the channel set for the dredgers, often added to confusion. Gave a genuine meaning to the term "balls up"
 
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