A MONDAY MORNING IN JUNE, and a divisional inspector of lifeboats waits on an airfield for an early flight. An odd place, perhaps, to pick up the story of the day to day life of a DI, but then this DI's territory takes in an island and that is where for the week ahead he has planned a programme of inspections, exercises and meetings with station branch officials as he takes his part in the traditional life of the Royal National Life-boat Institution, a life evolved over more than 150 years.

At the AGM last May, Major-General Ralph Farrant, Chairman of the Institution, spoke of this way of life and of the exemplary form of devolution achieved by the RNLI. As he pointed out, the station branches are largely autonomous, able, willing and authorised to conduct their own affairs; the Committee of Management is concerned with policy; and the permanent staff provides the continuity, professional skills and guidance which help to support the structure. In this overall pattern it is the divisional inspectors who form the operational link between lifeboat stations and headquarters and who, with the support of the other coastal staff—district surveyors of lifeboats (DSLs), district engineers (DEs) and electrical engineers (EEs)—provide the common bond, drawing all stations within the overall care of the Institution; and, incidentally, within what has been called by lifeboat crew members the best club in the country.

All lifeboat stations come within the care of one or other of the RNLI's inspectors of lifeboats, for the shores of Great Britain and Ireland are divided into nine operational divisions: north eastern, eastern, south eastern, south western, western, north western, Scotland south, Scotland north and Ireland.

The station branches in his division, with their lifeboats and their lifeboat people, become for a little while the DI's world, a world around which he moves as routine work or emergency calls demand. He can expect to remain in one division for some five years, during which time he will be responsible to the Chief of Operations for the wellbeing of about 22 stations, some with offshore lifeboats, some with inshore lifeboats and a few, probably, with both.

Every lifeboat has been built for and commissioned by the RNLI and remains its property; each lifeboat, at her naming ceremony, is handed into the care of the station branch. The branch contributes the seamen, the shore support, the local organisation and local financial backing, and, above all, it contributes that great and invaluable spirit of voluntary endeavour and endurance which is the essence of the lifeboat service. The DI, no less dedicated and himself an experienced and practical seaman, is at hand ready to give whatever support is needed; to advise; to give training where necessary, particularly when new technical equipment is to be installed in the boat; to help crew members to keep'pace with changesOnce a year the divisional inspectors of lifeboats meet in conference at Pools. (I. to r., back row first) Lieut.-Commander A. M.

'Mike'1 Woodroffe, south east; M. G. K.

'Mike" Pennell, east; A. G. 'Tony' Course, Ireland; K. M. 'Mike' Vlasto, Scotland south; Lieut. John H. Unwin, west; Lieut.- Commander George R. Cooper, north west; Lieut.-Commander H. F. 'Harry' Teare, north east; Lieut.-Commander Roy S.

Portchmouth, south wes,t; T. F. 'Tom' Nutman, Scotland north. One or two will soon be moving to a new division or to HQ.

Tom Nutman will go to the east while, from HQ, Captain R. M. 'Mike' Dabbs will go to Scotland north and Lieut. Alan W. Tate to the north east.

in maritime practice; and to ensure that at all times boat and crew are prepared for whatever they may be called upon to meet at sea.

Thus is the responsibility shared.

Continuity, professional skill, guidance —the DI's contribution. Their expression may take many forms.

There are the regular visits made by a divisional inspector once every six months to offshore stations and once every three months to inshore stations, for an all-embracing inspection of boat, boathouse and equipment and exercise at sea with the crew, as described in the article 'On Exercise' by Andrew Gould published in the summer 1977 issue of THE LIFEBOAT; a formal visit, but also a quiet, enjoyable interlude of evaluation, perhaps taking a whole day, giving ample time for conversation to range over all matters pertinent to the station's well-being.

Then there is the delivery trip of a new lifeboat. DI, in command, together with DE, will make the passage with the boat's future coxswain and crew.

During the passage there is full opportunity for the crew to learn the characteristics they can expect from their new boat, her layout, her engine and her electronic equipment. Before her naming ceremony the DI will be concerned in all arrangements which will affect either the boat or her crew—and it is he who will be found at 6 o'clock in the morning of the great day together with the crew down at the site, supervising and helping as the bunting is put up, the public address system installed and the boat receives her final polish. (She may even have been out on service all the previous night, as happened last year at Yarmouth, Isle of Wight, so that work will have to start all over again, almost from scratch.) If operational cover is needed during the time of the ceremony, this will have been arranged with neighbouring lifeboat stations and the Coastguard.

If there should be damage to the boat on service, problems with any of the equipment or, perhaps, an accident, the DI is off immediately, hot foot, for the station . . . as will be any of the other coastal staff concerned. The DI will have to find out the underlying cause of the trouble, satisfy himself that it has been put right and that whatever action is necessary to prevent it happening again has been taken. He will submit a detail report of the incident, for the operations room at head office must at all times be kept fully aware of the state of the fleet.

An outstanding service has been performed? It is the DI who will go down to the station to investigate and gather information for a factual account to present in the first place to the Chief of Operations and ultimately to the Committee of Management. He will talk to everyone concerned—honorary secretary, coxswain or helmsman, crew members, Coastguard, perhaps the master of another vessel which had stood by, going carefully step by step through each stage of the service '... You set off at full speed ?... No?. ..

Half speed? . .. Why ?... When did you first sight the casualty ? . . . How was she lying ? . . . How did you know there was someone aboard?. .. Where was he?. . .' and so on, until the survivors are safely landed, the lifeboat refuelled and rehoused.

The DI will go to look at the scene of action, walking along the coast or getting as near as possible by boat to see for himself the natural hazards against which the skill of coxswain and crew were pitted in their battle with wind and sea. He will collect any photographs that were taken, press cuttings, letters . . . gradually the full story is built up.

It is not just the boats and the services; it is the people, too. A successor must be found for a retiring honorary secretary? A new appointment will be made by the Committee of Management, but the DI will first discuss the situation with branch officials and then explain to the nominee the demands that will be made upon him and ask about the experience he has to offer. An extra deputy launching authority? The DI, together with the honorary secretary and perhaps other members of the branch, will meet him down at the boathouse to evaluate his suitability for the responsibility he is taking on. Naturally, the DI would be fully involved with the choice of a new coxswain or other senior crew officer. Crew members? Their ability, their well-being and their safety are the DI's special concern. As well as making sure that they are practised in all normal lifeboat procedures —such as firing flares or the gun line equipment, streaming a drogue, recovering a man overboard, handling a stretcher, rigging the emergency tiller —he is there to encourage and help in the attainment of special proficiency and to supervise the final testing of, say, a signalman or an operational swimmer.

At each inspection he will scrutinise most carefully the lifejackets his crews will wear and, equally, will make sure that routine medical examinations have been made at the appropriate times.

Anyone unfit not only endangers himself but could put the whole crew at risk.

It would of course be impossible to distil the whole of the divisional inspectors' activities into the confines of one article. Every day will be different, with different duties, different demands . . . a problem of administration to be ironed out with an honorary secretary . . . a request for stores from a motor mechanic ... a visit to be arranged to a lifeboat station for an inland ladies' guild, a party of disabled children, a television team . . . questions to be answered for a local paper or news to be passed on to the local press. Occasionally there may be some trouble ruffling the normal peace of a station; the DI will be on his way at once to help bring things back on to an even keel. He is available at all times if he is needed.

And then there is the inevitable paperwork; requisitions, reports and letters—from HQ, from DI's of neighbouring divisions, from DSL, DE, or EE, from the district organising secretary whose area marches with his own, from honorary secretaries. One way and another the DI is the constant channel of information flowing in both directions: from the coast to HQ, and from HQ to the coast.

It is all part of the work . . . and the pleasure, too, for the DI and the people he serves become very close. In a very short time coxswain, crew, branch officials and their families will have become the friends of both the DI and his wife. Over an exercise—and the pint which follows—or during a delivery trip, he and the members of the crew will get to know each other well. If an award for gallantry is made the DI will share in the station's joy; it will be with deep personal pleasure that he will watch the coxswain or crew member go up to receive his medal at the Royal Festival Hall, and join in the celebrations back on the coast. He will find that he is not only worrying about whether a crew member will pass his first aider's test but also whether his son is going to get that vital O level. He will not only be going to a station during the day for an inspection, but he and his wife will be heading that way in the evening for the annual lifeboat dinner. His whole family will be with him at a naming ceremony or there joining in the fun of an open day. They will soon be as deeply involved as he is himself in the division which has become their home for, perhaps, five years. And then comes the time to move on ... to say au revoir to old friends . . . to put down roots again in another part of the country, while a new DI comes in to take over where the old has left off. It is good for the DI: good for the division. 'Like reoxygenating the water', is the way Lieut.-Commander George Cooper explained it.

The week ahead...

George Cooper, divisional inspector of the north western division, was that man whom, you will remember, we left waiting at an airfield. It is high time we rejoined him as he boards the aeroplane at Speke for the Isle of Man, ready to start a crowded week during which he will be joined by Tom Peebles, district engineer for Scotland, whose territory also takes in that island. By the last post before the weekend both will have sent their PVRS (probable visits returns) to HQ at Poole, keeping the operations room informed of their expected movements . . . they might be needed urgently. So how did the week run? Monday: From Ronaldsway Airport to Peel ILB station to inspect Atlantic 21 and go out on exercise with the crew.

1730—set off for Port St Mary to meet district organising secretary (NW), David Jones, and the station honorary secretary John Hudson. Over dinner, discuss arrangements for the coming naming of Port St Mary's new lifeboat The Gough Ritchie. On to the yacht club for a branch committee meeting. 2145, formal discussion gives way to informal, over drinks. It is midnight before the hotel in Douglas is reached.

Tuesday: 0930 to Ramsey for inspection of lifeboat, James Ball Ritchie. Attend Rotary Club lunch with honorary secretary, Bernard Smales. A call at Booth Kellys yard where The Gough Ritchie is up for antifouling and a propeller change. Call on Coastguard.

1730 to sea in James Ball Ritchie on a 21-hour exercise. Dash back to Peel (a snack on the way) for a committee meeting at 2100. 2230, there's an informal chat over a glass of beer before returning, late once again, to the hotel.

Wednesday: Douglas. Meeting with the branch chairman and station administrative officer and the senior harbour master to discuss successor to honorary secretary who had, sadly, died. Down to Port St Mary; inspection of the relief lifeboat takes until 1700. Meeting with harbour master to agree on position of The Gough Ritchie at her naming ceremony before going to sea on exercise.

Back on shore by 2100. A drink with the crew before returning to Douglas, 2230.

Thursday: Return via Manchester. Take bus to Speke to pick up car. Home by 1400 to spend afternoon sorting the mail which has accumulated in four days.

Friday: Correspondence. Five days' mail to be answered. Station reports must be written on each of the inspections and returned to HQ together with requisitions and any subsidiary reports. Only time to complete one station's work.

Saturday: An hour's paperwork before knocking off to prepare for village fete.

Family's Drascombe lugger on her trailer skilfully turned into a pirate ship (so many small neighbours sign on as pirates that an extra float is needed to carry them all). A splendid afternoon.

After the grand parade, inter-village competitions—tug-of-war and all that— with all the fun of the fair. Everyone returns tired but happy . . .

Sunday: Back to the paperwork . . .

Monday morning: Finish off and post reports on last week's visits before setting out on a new week's programme, this time by road. Radio telephone contact must be established—so, as the car pulls away . . .

'Help Conwy. This is Delta Lemon One.

Have left my base. Am proceeding to Flint lifeboat station. ETA 1430. Can be contacted via the Flint honorary secretary. Returning to base approximately 2300 . . . Out.' Every lifeboat station has its own individuality and in the next two days George Cooper will be calling at two which in their very dissimilarity are strangely representative: Flint, a comparatively young all-the-year-round ILB station on the south shore of the Dee Estuary, and Hoylake, a venerable offshore lifeboat station a little further north on the Merseyside coast.

Inshore Within living memory, three-masted schooners and fair-sized coasters used to sail up the Dee, but now those days have gone; there is some fishing for salmon and shrimps, but little com mercial shipping or pleasure boating.

The estuary has silted up so that at low water vast plateaus of sand emerge.

And that is what causes the trouble. The tide is on the ebb, people walk out over the sands from the north shore towards the narrowing channel which runs close to the south bank; and then the tide turns, flooding in fast and strong, particularly at springs, and there is no time to get back.

Although Flint ILB station was only established in 1966, it is the direct descendant of the earlier Flint Rescue Boat, the first coxswain of which was Peter Bithell, a most respected local seaman. Nothing, however, is easy for Flint. Its boathouse, on the outskirts of the town badly hit by the present economic recession, has no direct slipway to the sea; it faces inland. When there is a call-out (six blasts on Courtauld's factory siren), 'Seven minutes and we're on the road' is their proud claim. The D class ILB is towed by a Land Rover, donated by Flint and District Lions Club, either down a rough track (flooded at high water) round Flint Castle to the estuary brink, from where it must be lifted down and carried bodily across a muddy foreshore ragged with boulders and stones; or she can be towed on her trailer a few miles down river to Greenfield, where launching conditions, if anything, are even worse; or she can be taken by road up river to Connah's Quay, where there is a slipway and hard sand; but in an emergency that might mean unacceptable delay and the nearest launching point to the casualty must, of course, be chosen.

Nevertheless the daunting obstacles are overcome and in the few years since an ILB came to Flint there have been 70 launches on service and 16 people have been rescued.

That is a measure of the station's determination, a determination which last winter brought it through a difficult period and which is now carrying it forward triumphantly from strength to strength.

Driving up in his car, George Cooper is delighted with the appearance of the boathouse. The crew have always painted it themselves. Many times, after they have finished it, they have come back to find it defaced with football slogans; so they start again. All the paint is paid for by themselves, no charge being made to the RNLI. 'Have all the boys seen the letter of appreciation for their work ?' is one of the DI's first questions as he and the honorary secretary, John Latham, settle down to the paperwork. George Cooper has in his file a copy of every requisition made for the station and every letter relating to its activities since he last called; each one is checked through to make sure the stores and equipment have arrived safely or the necessary action has been taken.

'Have you had a letter about your telephone number going into the telephone directory under "Lifeboat" ?' John Latham, a nephew of Peter Bithell and an ex-crew member, took over as honorary secretary last year and now has a sure hand on the helm. He is backed up by an enthusiastic group of older crew members; Des Hughes, a police constable who is station administrative officer and who gives strong support in the running of the station; Tom Stealey, over-age now for active service, but, with knowledge of the river going back many years, helps in the training programme which is introducing a new generation of crew members to the station (John and Tom were once at sea together, on the run from New York to Manaus, a thousand miles up the River Amazon); there is David Moore, a first aider who is also a member of the Red Cross and a Scout Leader; Colin Jones, a fisherman known to everyone as 'Daddy'; and Eddie Pickford.

One of the new crew members, Alan Mclndoe ('Medical OK? Has the chit gone in?') is in the boathouse. So, as George Cooper carries out the inspection ("Any trouble with the engine ? The boat? Trolley OK?) carefully checking each part himself, he explains every detail of the boat and her equipment to the 'new boy'—asking a few searching questions on the way—and thus everyone's memory is refreshed.

More of the younger crew members arrive at the end of the afternoon, ready for the exercise afloat. Two of them, it transpires, go down to the swimming baths on Wednesday evenings, working for their lifesaving tests—bronze and silver. They should have no trouble in qualifying as RNLI swimmers and will have good practice in resuscitation procedures—excellent.

Sea boots on; launch over that forbidding foreshore; head down river on exercise; then back to Connah's Quay for recovery. Home with John Latham where his wife, Doreen, has tea waiting. Hurry to a branch meeting to be held at the police station. In his report, the DI tells the branch members how very pleased he is with the state of the boathouse and boat—he has never seen the station in better heart.

Before the meeting ends, plans are made for future social events. . . . Then everyone moves on to the Big Ship Inn to be entertained with beer and sandwiches by the Flint Doghouse Club.

The club has already collected money for its local ILB station and has more ambitious plans for the future. Tonight it is the branch's pleasure to present the club with a plaque specially made by one of the crew. Interest and backing in the town is becoming more and more encouraging.

Offshore Tuesday morning: to Hoylake ('Help Conwy, this is Delta Lemon One . . .

another day starts). Hoylake is a wellestablished station with the weight of the community behind it—a strong branch and a very active ladies' guild.

Its first lifeboat, established as far back as 1803, was built by Henry Greathead; the present boat is the housed 37' 6" Rother Mary Gabriel. Since being taken over by the Institution in 1894 Hoylake lifeboat has launched 230 times and rescued 123 lives. This offshore station works closely with West Kirby ILB station, a little further south down the coast. Laurie Farrall is honorary secretary of both, and Hoylake coxswain, Thomas 'Harry' Jones—an exnaval man who served in destroyers—is boatman for West Kirby Sailing Club.

So close are the bonds between these two stations and their neighbouring sailing clubs that each might almost be regarded as an extension of the other.

Coxswain Jones is at the boathouse to meet George Cooper. Normally Motor Mechanic Jeffrey Kernighan would have been there, too, but he is one of ten senior crew members from offshore lifeboat stations in the north west division at present taking a three-day radar course at the Nautical College in Fleetwood; so his place is taken by Assistant Mechanic Peter Jones. Brian Moss, district engineer (NW), is the next to arrive. Mugs of tea appear and after a companionable few minutes the inspection begins: lifejackets first; then a run through the last report to make sure that everything that needed to be replaced or needed attention has been dealt with; then the full inspection of boat, engines, carriage, tractor, boathouse, stores, protective clothing, gets under way. Working slowly round brings home the fact that on a lifeboat everything down to the smallest piece of equipment has its own safe stowage.

Everything about the boat and house is in beautiful order: brass polished; engine spotless and gleaming; lockers as shining inside as out. (' Waste of time coming today!' is the DI's praise.) There is a quiet hour in the crew room with Laurie Farrall and Coxswain Jones, running through requisitions and letters and talking over all aspects of station life ('Are you happy about the launching arrangements? The call-out system ? How is the visual signal training progressing? Have your first aiders requalified? Are returns of service up-todate ? So your open day was mentioned on the local radio ? Well done Here's a new poster on hypothermia for the boathouse . . .').

By late afternoon the inspection is complete. With an hour or two to spare George Cooper and Brian Moss slip over to Ocean Fleets Shipyard at Birkenhead where work is nearing completion on the survey and re-engining of the Barrow-in-Furness lifeboat, the 46' 9" Watson, Herbert Leigh. Time for a passing call at New Brighton ILB boathouse for a word with the honorary secretary, Captain Billington, and his wife and other helpers manning a souvenir stall; something to eat; then back to Hoylake where everyone is gathering for the evening exercise.

The boathouse is a scene of great activity. Coxswain Jones has chosen who will go out aboard Mary Gabriel and there are 25 or more spare crew and shore helpers in support. The tide is low and the boat is towed by tractor out across the sands towards the distant sea. In company go a small tractor and trailer (given by the local Rotary Club) and a Land Rover, carrying recovery equipment.

In his notebook, George Cooper has a chart showing which manoeuvres were practised on his last exercise at Hoylake; the pattern will be varied tonight. The drogue is streamed; emergency steering rigged; the propeller freeing ports are opened for propeller clearing drill; stretcher practice; man overboard; signalling with the Aldis lamp. George is most insistent that every opportunity should be taken to practise visual signalling (' You never know when you might have to close a ship whose radio is out of action').

Finally, with the tractor doubling as 'casualty' a gun line is fired across and the breeches buoy rigged.

Back to the boathouse Then back to shore where the patient helpers are waiting. Both DI and DE travel back across the beach on the tractor—the station is not satisfied with its performance.

Back at the boathouse there is a cup of tea all round while everyone goes about his own task. While Coxswain Thomas Jones hands out the small payments for the practice, Assistant Motor Mechanic Peter Jones supervises the cleaning down, refuelling and rehousing of boat and tractor and the DI fills in the coast staff visiting book; a copy will be taken to send to HQ. A prospective DLA for West Kirby is interviewed; a visual signalman is tested and passed out at six words a minute (he is a holder of the yachtmaster's certificate). Next time George comes there will be another crew member ready to take his signalling test. . . .

As the summer dusk approaches, the day's work is finally ended and there is a general move to the Plasterer's Arms in the old fishing village from which present-day Hoylake has grown; its.

tiny bar is filled to overflowing as lifeboat people enjoy a drink together before dispersing.

Late home again . . .

Wednesday will have to be devoted to paperwork, then on Thursday George Cooper will set off at 0700 for Fleetwood to be with his crew members on the last day of their radar course.

The continuing cycle goes on. There is no real beginning, no real end. Every week for every one of the nine divisional inspectors of lifeboats will be different, but the underlying pattern is the same.

And, of course, their aim is the same: a lifeboat service second to none..