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An ex-Aladdinaut and former merchant seaman once said of Jebsen's “the offshore side was real good”. I wouldn’t quite go that far but I stuck it out longer on Jebsen’s Aladdin than I did anywhere else. She must have had something going for her. One factor in the Aladdin story was Atle Jebsen. The maximo honcho of Jebsen’s Shipping was also on the Board of B.P. Norway. In 1982 B.P. Norway was looking for a semi-submersible drilling rig to work in Norwegian waters. The Norwegian Government did not operate a protected economy at that time, (or so they said). They would allow a token foreign flag rig or supply boat to operate in Norwegian waters; from time to time. These vessels were usually old and technically inferior (on paper). Their license to operate could easily be withdrawn by requiring some of the bells and whistles that were being fitted to Norwegian new-build rigs and boats. This was not done to protect the jobs of Norwegians; it was a matter of “safety”. Th...

The Gothic Musk was anchored close to the Murray coast when we arrived. It was a Friday and the drilling rig was rolling in the swell. Further out to sea a storm was causing the water to lift up and down in a repetitive and ancient dance routine. The weather at our destination was too rough to run anchors. So the rig couldn’t go to work and we would be paid the same money to do a bit of painting, tidying up and looking busy. What more could a North Sea Tiger ask for? As a general case it was an ideal first day on a new rig. For myself I could manage a few regrets over how I came to be here at all. The previous rig was one where I should have been able to get on with everyone. Yet my dismissal seemed to have been orchestrated. Whether this was for trade union activities, political preferences or ethnic considerations made no difference. My days on the Gothic Musk were numbered. Junky Jordy and I had fallen out years before. He was the other Toolpusher, fortunately not due back for t...

Published in Blowout   February 1992 Leroy McGregor CLANGING metal, shouted orders, indescribable filth and regular accidents … to outsiders, a drill-floor operation seems like a scene from Armageddon. It is sad to reflect that of those who hire, supervise, fire and harass drill crews, many have never swung a tong with feeling. Being part of a five-man team who can move one-ton lengths of steel with precision, skill and grace, can be a spiritually uplifting experience. By working together and covering each other’s weaknesses you gain respect for the rest of the crew and a unique insight into the fundamentals of “making hole”. The job you learn on the drill floor would be a great apprenticeship for further responsibilities with a service company, in the office or as an oil company representative. If people with practical drill-floor experience were given wider responsibility in their industry they could avert many accidents and eliminate much dubious expenditure. In the...

November 1991 While the oil companies were focusing their energy on restoring democracy in Kuwait, a quiet revolution took place in downtown Aberdeen. Behind the solid granite walls of OILC House, a radical change in approach and legal status was underway. The image of Angry Young (?) Men defying capitalism and “stopping the oil” had served its purpose. The new talk was of building mutual respect, dialogue, human dignity and,  above all, being zealous for the law. The unofficial organisation which dominated television news in August 1990 has now done the decent thing. The Offshore Industry Liaison Committee has faced up to its responsibilities and become a legally constituted trade union. Perhaps a short honeymoon would have helped the organisation adjust to its new status, but faced with mounting evidence of the ostrich approach to industrial safety, the pace of activity in Guild Street is more hectic than ever. If those within the offshore union are unsure ...

Service and reward – a cautionary tale Inspired by JIM THAIN of Montrose Written by LEROY McGREGOR Blowout  November 1991 Once upon a time a North-east man joined the Royal Navy and for many years he served Queen and country with loyalty and dedication. As a reward for his services, he was given a big-money job in the Royal Oilfields. The work was hard and the hours were long, but North-east folk are used to that and our hero was happy with his lot. The beauty of summer evenings in the North Sea was compensation enough for the wild storms of the winter and the years quickly passed. ‘Til one fateful night our man’s life was changed for ever. As he cleaned the drill floor, little did he know that far above him a tiny crack was slowly getting bigger. From an able-bodied man, skilled and strong, to a broken cripple, a creature that would never go to the sea again. It was over before you could blink. For as long as men have tempted Providence upon the North Sea swell, for ...