We were living in Newcastle upon Tyne at the time which faces the roiling grey North Sea where the wild oil rigs are. The actual business of the rigs was mostly working out of Aberdeen, a good bit greyer and further North than Geordieland. Nevertheless the oil rigs were in the air as places of dirt, hard-work, physical courage and bonanza pay packets. We moved back to Ireland several years before The Boy might have been tempted to run away to Aberdeen to apprentice himself to his RealDad. He got to work in the airline industry for ten years after he left home, which was hard enough work but cleaner and safer than deep-sea diving. He's a railway engineer now.
We were talking about the MV Ever Given, borked in Suez. He brought my attention to Oil Rigs at the end of their useful life: