It was the custom at larger stations for OC Admin, or even the staish, to host a top table for the Command Accounts Inspection Team. On one station that had better remain nameless, we all turned up in suits and ties as did the hosts, except Mrs OC Admin, who arrived in a low cut top and toreador pants! She then, in a voice that would have cut concrete, described her husband's small sailing boat being dragged to the bottom by the Sandbanks chain ferry, and rising leviathan-like from the depths on the ferry's return trip. Could have died for the guy.