Good Enough For Nelson Read Online Free PDF Page B

would mind passing the salt and pepper, or whatever. Not the cruet. You ask for the cruet and they’ll think you’re talking about the ‘Oly Communion, or something.
    ‘Now, there’s three kinds of meal in the wardroom. There’s ‘ot. There’s cold. And there’s Sunday evening buffet supper and cinema...’
    Jimmy caught The Bodger’s eye and jerked his head towards the door. As he was going, The Bodger looked back. Spicer was drinking imaginary soup from a real spoon, and chatting amicably with an imaginary partner on his right. The Gromboolians were still regarding him with sombre, intent gaze, but whether in disbelief or resignation it was impossible from their expressions to tell.
    ‘Jimmy, I don’t remember this sort of thing going on when I was last here?’
    ‘One of the College traditions now, Bodger. Spicer’s knife and fork drill. People come miles to see it. Played before the crowned ‘eads of Europe, and all that.’
    ‘It was always assumed that we knew this sort of thing before we came here.’
    ‘Can’t assume anything now, Bodger. You used to be able to assume that every cadet had been to a public school or at least a good grammar school, came from a reassuring middle-class background, believed in the Queen, the Empire, the flag and toasted muffins for tea. Not now. You could assume that everybody read Rudyard Kipling, said their prayers every night, washed behind their ears and believed in Father Christmas. Not now, by golly. You should hear Spicer on music, theatre or art. He does several lectures during the term.’
    ‘ Music, theatre, and art?’ The Bodger shook his head. ‘The mind simply boggles .’
    ‘Now pay attention this way.’ Jimmy had a very passable imitation of Mr Spicer in full flow. ‘There’s three kinds of painting in the Navy. There’s oil. There’s water colour. And there’s what you see on the bulkheads down in the ‘eads ...’
    ‘I don’t know, Jimmy.’ The Bodger knew he must tread warily. ‘I think I may have to chop all that.’
    ‘Oh nonsense, Bodger! It’s part of the College set-up. People would be disappointed.’ Jimmy was still laughing from Spicer’s performance. ‘What’s the problem. Why would you scrub round it?’
    ‘It’s difficult to say.’ The Bodger chose his words carefully. He had no wish to offend Jimmy and, after all, he was still very much a new boy and had not even taken over Father’s Chair yet. ‘I believe for one thing it’s a little out of date ...’
    ‘Dash it, Bodger, if you’re going to change everything in this place that’s out of date ...’
    ‘... And I think it’s insulting to their intelligences. It smacks of something... I don’t know what the right word is... patrician ... paternalistic ... patronising. It would be OK as a turn at a smoking concert. Like that famous gunnery version of a church service. Verger will report graveyard cleared for service, tombstones upright, hymn number tally reading correct, font full, crypt bilges checked dry, you know the sort of thing.’ In The Bodger’s opinion, Spicer’s lecture was almost a parody of itself. It tended to devalue the rest of the syllabus. Now he thought more about it, The Bodger was not even sure of Petty Officer Pounter’s performance. Drill was one thing. A prima donna exhibition by the GI, with the whole College looking on and applauding his jokes, was quite another.
    ‘It would be more to the point these days,’ said The Bodger, ‘if he gave them a lecture on how to appear to advantage on television.’
    Jimmy Forster-Jones had given another great guffaw, before he realised that The Bodger was serious.
    ‘Oh well,’ he said, ‘you’re obviously going to be a new broom, Bodger.’
    Almost by accident, they came around a corner and found the College Sports Office, where the Sports Officer, a young Royal Marine officer, was sitting at his desk looking across at the Assistant Sports Officer, another young Royal Marine officer. By the