Some good tales on this thread but the best so far is the bosun's chair from Hopper. Brilliant! I read it an hour ago and it's still making me chuckle. Here's a few of mine.
I joined the Fire Service in 1978, well before the effin safety regs appeared. In those days…
We had some adventures with Acetylene cylinders, which as you surely know are incredibly dangerous if involved in fire, and can explode long after they are stone cold to the touch. Nowadays an acetylene incident demands an immediate exclusion zone of 400m and cooling with water spray for many hours. Not so back then.
I was a 'sprog' when we attended a garage fire: on arrival it was a hell of a blaze. Quite a big old workshop with gear all over the place and two cars well alight in the middle. It took about twenty minutes to put it out, then we found the oxy-acetylene cylinders. Big buggers, and hot, so we cooled them with water. Unless there was a convenient lake close by, the procedure then was to split a short extension ladder into three sections and lash the ends together forming a triangle, then lay in a canvas salvage sheet, lash in place and fill with water to make a dam. Then place the cylinders in the water and leave them for somebody else to sort out. BOC if I remember correctly. So me and a mate had to carry this acetylene cylinder from the back of the garage the 30 yards or so to the dam and place it gently into the water. Despite being cooled with water spray it was still a bit warm, so we wrapped our tunics around it and carried on. We were VERY gentle with it and got the job done, but I occasionally look back and wonder 'what if…'
An interesting method had been devised sometime around the middle ages to test 10m wooden ladders. Firstly by fully extending them against the drill tower. The extending line and the extent of deflection was then tested by three guys hanging off a line attached to the centre. They hung with their full weight, knees bent and arms straight like three loopy apes, straining for twenty seconds. In those days some of the old hands were as wide as they were tall, so this bit often ended prematurely with some guys muttering 'oh that'll do…' The rounds (rungs) were then tested by one man, usually the sprog. I can say that because it was a men-only club in those days. The man (unencumbered by safety-line) climbed to the top, took a leg-lock and pulled and twisted the top four rounds. If they didn't break or bend too much, they passed the test. Excessively creaky cracky noises were generally ignored, If they weren't heard you weren't trying hard enough. The test then moved on to the remaining rounds. The man gripped the top round securely; in other words until the knuckles were gleaming white enough to light up a sewer. The man then jumped several times onto the fifth round. If the jump wasn't high or the landing hard enough the OIC and the rest of the crew would scream amusing obscenities. I knew they were amusing because it made them laugh oh so hard. Once a round was deemed to have passed it's test it was move on to the next and the jumping of the rounds repeated all the way down. The ladder failed it's test if a round broke when you jumped on it. Happily, one never did.
Of course they don't do things like that anymore, which occasionally is for the better. Fewer people get hurt, and of course no fun is had at all.
Many years later I had climbed the promotion ladder and was called at 3 a.m. one morning to attend an incident as a relieving OIC (Officer in Charge). The incident was a garage fire involving an acetylene cylinder. The garage was an industrial unit on a small estate just outside the town, and on arrival the fire was going well. The acetylene cylinder exploded before the crew knew it was there. The steel roller shutter door was blown off into two firefighters standing just outside on a jet: they went off to hospital, batterd but not badly hurt. The exploding cylinder became a missile and smashed itself though a concrete-block wall and straight overn the heads of the crew just outside. We found the remains of it 70 yards away in an adjacent woodyard when the sun rose some hours later. I was being sent to relieve the initial OIC because he had been knocked unconcious – not by the cylinder but because the dozey twonk fell into a ditch! Another man off to hospital but he was ok and returned to take his fair share of flak from the crew. And me.
Happy days!
Hope these few samples didn't go on too long and honestly – H&S is a good thing. Honestly it is. Really.
![smiley smiley](data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAAAAACH5BAEKAAEALAAAAAABAAEAAAICTAEAOw==)
regards,
Steve
Edited By SteveM on 12/01/2015 03:09:36
Edited By SteveM on 12/01/2015 03:10:55