Diary of a Deckhand

To me, life has always had a soundtrack. Wherever I am, whatever I am doing, if there is music playing then I am happier by far. My musical tastes are so wide ranging I sometimes wonder if I am normal, and then give myself a slap – of course I am not normal. The soundtrack to the current chapter of my life is an Icelandic band called Sigur Ros. Their best known song is called Hoppipolla, which translates as jumping in puddles. However, despite the strange subject matter it is the kind of music that makes the little hairs on the back of my neck stand up. Cruising down the flow on those calm summer days (there was the odd one), the stout bow pushing its way through the glass smooth water, this what was playing in my head. Seeing the sheer joy of the dolphins near Fair Isle when they chose to join us for that exquisite hour at 6am, it was this song that echoed around my exhausted but suddenly overjoyed cranium. Certain music download sites (the one run by that green fruity named company) should be outlawed as it seems to separate me from my cash so regularly. Currently it is a song called Von (from the album of the same name), once again by Sigur Ros which sums up these few pages of the chapter.

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There I was, dozing serenely in the spare bedroom at my parents house when I was rudely awoken by the bleeping of my phone. A call from Hazel telling me that the merry dancers were putting on the best display they had done in the last 5 years or so. I have spent the past few months building my courage, getting myself ready not to be scared witless at the green lights in the sky. I blame being bought up on TV that professed to the existence of alien beings for doing this to me. However, being several hundred miles south at the time of this display meant that all I could see was a dim green glow to the north, punctuated by the regular search light like flash from the Longstone Light on the Farne Islands some 10 miles away.
Somehow I see the irony in this. Maybe they saved themselves up for when I was away to tease me?

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Christmas is coming, the goose is getting fat……or should that be worried? (no geese were harmed in the taking of this picture....honest!)



Its been a little bit cold out there too, so here are some pictures of the frost.








And finally, a rare photo of me with my mum on the beach.



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It suddenly struck me the other day, than in less than 9 days time, i will be able to say "Im 30 next year". Which will be technically true, since my birthday is on Hogmanay. Thats old. Thats so so old. Im only 18 in my head! Ok, thats a lie, I'm only 8 in my head! I guess that since I am yet to find where it is written that I have to grow up, as well as older, I'm pretty safe for now. I have to admit to not looking very hard for where it is written either.......

I can remember it being my 17th birthday, and someone (i dont remember who) telling me that I would never feel any older than i did then. In so many ways it is true. I think that by the time you get to 17 your emotional development has more of less stopped going at the same pace as "The Stig", and has slowed to a much more sedately "80 year old on her way to Tesco's". Ten years on from there I would say that it is true.

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One of the most wonderful people in my life was explaining to me his philosophies in life while we sat and watched the rain fall outside, drinking vanilla tea. He came to me as a light when the world was a dark place and sent me a simple gift, it cost only a few pounds. And yet without it i doubt i would be here now waffling on this blog. He sent me a book - The Tao of Pooh by Benjamin Hoff. Rob is a Taoist, and I wonder if someday I will be too. He told me the tale of chatting to a monk about some of the hard times in his sometimes brutal life. The monk replied that he should listen to the Gekkos that sat in the dark green recesses of the bushes all around them. Puzzled he asked what he meant, the monk explained that the gekko makes the noise "Gekko, Gekko". Let go. Let go.



Sometimes we all need to let go of the things that we carry with us. As a very wise man once said, clutching a burning coal to throw at someone else will burn us much more than it will burn them.



Orkney is a spiritual place. Not religious. But it has room for your soul to expand out. Sometimes I wonder if it is like a bird with its wings folded in tightly as not to damage them. Up here there is enough space for them to stretch out and test the air currents beneath their feathers.


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Righto, that was all rather deep for a Sunday night. I'm off for a pear cider and some rubbish on telly.

Merry....well.....urm..... whatever you celebrate, enjoy it and if you dont celebrate anything at all, be glad of those who care about you.