The Bathgate job was finished, I did a brief stint at Provan Gas Works in Glasgow on an Insulation Project and we had settled into our 'new' life in Arbroath. It was May 1977 when I received the fateful call from 'Solus' inviting me to the office 'for a chat'. Nothing to my advantage had ever come out of these 'chats' so with trepidation I presented myself there at the appointed time.
"Hello Harry ! nice to see you, how are you doing ?" asked Angus (my boss) smiling broadly.
"Fine" I grunted, instantly on my guard.
"I've been monitoring your progress and we are very pleased !" says Angus lying.
"Oh yeah ! where do you want me to go then?" asks I.
"Hmmm, we are going to increase your salary from £5500 to £7000" he announced.
"Thanks" says I taken aback "where is it then?"
"We've a new van for you !" he pointed at the window.
I looked outside and there was the latest model Ford Escort 1.6 petrol van resplendent in its red, white and blue livery. Up to now I had an old clapped out Mini van.
"Thanks" says I impressed " errr where am I going Angus?" by now very suspicious.
"Your weekly expenses allowance is increased to £160 per week" says Angus waving his hands expansively, "plus an extra £40 inconvenience money".
Now the hairs on the back of my neck stood up, 'incovenience money' was a euphemism for 'danger money'. I was speechless.
"Ohh yes plus " says Angus raising a hand in the air "I understand that BGC (the new name for British Gas) is picking up the hotel bill so you can probably keep the the expenses ".
I was nearly orgasmic at this point, I did a swift mental calculation and worked out that I would be clearing (with overtime) about £500 a week ! This was an unheard of wage in 1977 ! Frankly by now I didn't care where I was going, I would have gone to Beirut or any other war zone for that kind of money.
"Ok cut the crap Angus ! Where am I going ?"
"St Fergus" says Angus flatly "be there Monday morning, report to the Resident Engineer Mr.Batty, collect £200 advance at the desk and good luck!" whereupon I was ushered out of the door.
I went and sat in my new van, my head was in turmoil - St.Fergus - Where the hell is that ?
Ok! at this point, before I proceed, I should explain the background as to what all this was about. St. Fergus is located roughly half way between Peterhead and Fraserburgh and was the most exciting project of its time - the dawn of a new age - The concept was to land gas via sub-sea pipelines from the Frigg Field which was located astride the British and Norwegian sectors. All this gas was to be sent via a platform called MCP-01 which 're-compressed' the gas before it made landfall at St.Fergus. Here the gas was treated and inserted into the National Grid and further compressed by compressor stations such as Kirriemuir and Bathgate ending up in a network all the way to the Isle of Grain in Kent.
St Fergus was surrounded by 3 workers camps with thousands of men in each - in 1977 it was nothing more that a hole in the ground. Neighboring Peterhead was like a frontier town in an old Western Movie, there were workers from all over the World, Texans, Mexicans, Cubans, Scousers, Geordies, Glaswegians, Irishmen and a few more nationalities. Every 'hooker' from the North of England and Central Scotland descended on the place. The locals, mostly of hardy 'Fisher' stock, resented incomers and conflicts were commonplace. The place was 'awash' with money. It was the Yukon, it was the Goldrush - it was HELL ! Welders were earning about £650 a week and running about in Jaguar Cars, Blaster/Sprayers were on about £800 per week on 'piece-work', they didn't have fancy cars because they were too busy 'pissing' it up against the wall and enjoying the favours of the 'Ladies of the Night'.
Some of the St.Fergus Inspection Team, notably the Welding and Paint Inspector were confined to the Royal Hotel for their own safety and advised not to venture out (that's why BGC were paying the bill). At one point the Paint Inspector and Welding Inspector had a Police escort to and from site due to death threats (seriously !!). Unbeknown to me my predecessor, a really nice guy named Fred Stevens, had to be rescued by Security after he was buried up to the neck on St.Fergus beach as the perpetrators watched the tide come in ! This poor man ended up in Sunnyside (an asylum) near Montrose to recover but was a nervous wreck forever - no wonder !
It was into this scenario I (innocent and unaware) arrived in my shiny new van at the St.Fergus security gate. The security man asked me my business.
"Hi, I'm Harry McIntosh the new Paint Inspector reporting to Mr Batty". The security man took a step back and gave a sharp intake of breath. Looking at me as if I was a 'dead man walking' he kindly directed me to the reception. My hackles started to rise - what the f##k was going on here? I arrived at reception.
Nervously I announced myself, "Hello, I'm Harry McIntosh reporting to Mr.Batty, I'm the new Paint Inspector !" The elderly Lady Receptionists face paled and with more sharp intakes of breath she said in broad 'Peterheed' accent "Aye Loon, ye gang richt and strecht aheed, ye'll see his name on the door, go canny noo!" I march onwards completely bemused and arrive at Mr Batty's door. With trepidation I knocked, a voice says "enter" and I go in - I am now scared to utter my standard greeting - I stuttered and got to the Paint Inspector bit when 'Batty' gave a loud groan and proceeded to bang his head off his desk ! Horrified I stood there not knowing what to do - eventually he calmed down and told me the whole sordid tale. The Blast/Paint squad had been on sit down strike for over a week since the 'Fred Incident' - there was over 300 of them ! - They wanted resolution of the 'Quality Control' issues and a whole heap of other stuff.
'Batty' said "Aye well your a big lad (not again !) maybe you can fix it" and directed me to the Painters 'compound'. As I trudged back to my van I made a mental note that when (and if) I met Angus again I was going to give him such a serious kick in the balls !
I drove into the compound in my shiny new van - groups of men were lolling about all over drinking cans of Tennants, Lanliq, Eldorado and Buckfast - I stepped out the van to be met with the inevitable comment - "Ohh, they've sent a big one this time !" - "Holy S##t" I thought.
I entered the Contractors Site Managers Office. He was actually a nice wee man and obviously completely out his depth and at his wits end. After listening to his tale of woe he directed me to my own Site office and I stepped back into the compound. My shiny new van was no longer that, it was covered in mud and graffiti - I could feel the rage build up inside me - thats it ! this is WAR! - these bastards were not getting away with this !
Part 2 next post !
.jpg)
.jpg)
.jpg)