Tuesday, 23 October 2012
Tuesday 23 October
The day started off quite foggy, but this lifted after sunrise, 8.30 am. Afterwards, it stayed bright and sunny right throughout the day. Even when darkness fell, there was hardly a cloud in the sky.
Over on the mainland, an accident closed the road between Inverness and Ullapool, from where the ferry to Stornoway sails. This resulted in delays to traffic seeking to catch the 5.35pm ferry. Calmac showed consideration by delaying this sailing until 8.30pm. It is now due in at 11.15pm. Three hours late, but better late than not until next morning.
I omitted to mention that last week saw the 120th edition of the Royal National Mod in Dunoon. At that event, the schools in the Western Isles did very well, scooping up several awards. The 2016 Mod will be held here in Stornoway, after visits to Paisley next year, Inverness in 2014 and Oban in 2015. It is a showcase for Gaelic culture, not just singing or music. The Mod programme also includes shinty matches and readings of prose. As far as the singing goes, marks are not only awarded for the musical qualities, but also Gaelic pronounciation.
Gaelic is a language that is only a distant relation to English, but several Gaelic words have crept into common usage in English. The word galore (gu leoir) is the best-known example. I do not speak Gaelic, and only know a handful of words. I am familiar though with the Gaelic version of placenames in Lewis and Harris. Although these may appear like a bad bout of alphabet soup (e.g. Gearraidh na h-Aibhne), if you know the rules on pronounciation and can manage the guttural CH (as in LOCH) you'll do fine. To me, the Gaelic names make more sense than the Anglicised versions.
Over on the mainland, an accident closed the road between Inverness and Ullapool, from where the ferry to Stornoway sails. This resulted in delays to traffic seeking to catch the 5.35pm ferry. Calmac showed consideration by delaying this sailing until 8.30pm. It is now due in at 11.15pm. Three hours late, but better late than not until next morning.
I omitted to mention that last week saw the 120th edition of the Royal National Mod in Dunoon. At that event, the schools in the Western Isles did very well, scooping up several awards. The 2016 Mod will be held here in Stornoway, after visits to Paisley next year, Inverness in 2014 and Oban in 2015. It is a showcase for Gaelic culture, not just singing or music. The Mod programme also includes shinty matches and readings of prose. As far as the singing goes, marks are not only awarded for the musical qualities, but also Gaelic pronounciation.
Gaelic is a language that is only a distant relation to English, but several Gaelic words have crept into common usage in English. The word galore (gu leoir) is the best-known example. I do not speak Gaelic, and only know a handful of words. I am familiar though with the Gaelic version of placenames in Lewis and Harris. Although these may appear like a bad bout of alphabet soup (e.g. Gearraidh na h-Aibhne), if you know the rules on pronounciation and can manage the guttural CH (as in LOCH) you'll do fine. To me, the Gaelic names make more sense than the Anglicised versions.
Foggy morning
Wreathing in white and not a sound
Except the intermittent blaring horn
Damp and dank, hiding all
Visibility nil, humidity high
Light increases from the dawn
A wading bird's warbling call
The steady chugging of an engine
But not a thing in sight
The eastern horizon turns golden
The sun arises, and in scorn
rips a tear in the pale white blanket
showing a nearby hillside, part exposed
Slowly, steadily the tears increase
As familiar landmarks reappear
A ship closing in to dock
The quayside with its bollards too
Last to reemerge for distance
The monument on the hilltop yonder
Whilst the lighthouse in bemusement
Watches over the dissipating cloud
Quickly now the wisps disperse
Hiding in the moorland's folds
But even there the sun will come
Victorious into a golden day
Except the intermittent blaring horn
Damp and dank, hiding all
Visibility nil, humidity high
Light increases from the dawn
A wading bird's warbling call
The steady chugging of an engine
But not a thing in sight
The eastern horizon turns golden
The sun arises, and in scorn
rips a tear in the pale white blanket
showing a nearby hillside, part exposed
Slowly, steadily the tears increase
As familiar landmarks reappear
A ship closing in to dock
The quayside with its bollards too
Last to reemerge for distance
The monument on the hilltop yonder
Whilst the lighthouse in bemusement
Watches over the dissipating cloud
Quickly now the wisps disperse
Hiding in the moorland's folds
But even there the sun will come
Victorious into a golden day
The BBC after Jimmy Savile
I just want to put into words my sentiments after the recent revelations of Jimmy Savile, late TV personality and newly discovered predatory sex offender. Apart from the complete destruction of Savile's reputation as a fund-raiser of impeccable morals, it has also inflicted serious damage on the BBC's reputation - succinctly summarised by the organisation's byname of "Auntie Beeb".
Jimmy Savile, who died in November 2011 aged 86, is now known to have abused (vulnerable) children over a period stretching from the late 1950s until near the time of his death. Allegations, suspicions and rumours were never far from the star, and questions were asked - even to Savile himself - but never fully investigated or followed up. I cannot imagine what his victims had to go through over the decades to watch their tormentor persuing his career (both charitable and predatory) with impunity. Shortly after his death, an investigation by the BBC's Newsnight programme found creditable evidence of Savile's wrongdoing - but was inexplicably shelved at a day's notice. A few weeks later, on Boxing Day last year, a massive tribute was broadcast. But it was not until ITV broadcast the investigation that the BBC's Newsnight was barred from airing, earlier this month [I did not see it as I was in Holland at the time], that the cat finally came out of the bag.
To my mind, there was an attitude around (not just at the BBC) that Jimmy Savile was invulnerable, nobody could touch him - as he himself said in one interview. It does not say much good about attitudes at the broadcaster that this was allowed to continue for five decades. However, I have heard of at least one other person with a similar 'aura': Ratko Mladic, the erstwhile commander of the Bosnian Serb forces when overrunning the enclave at Srebrenica in 1995. Although there were dozens of armed UN soldiers around, nobody was able to put a bullet into Mladic - on account of the personality he radiated. And the same applies to Jimmy Savile.
This comes hard on the heels of an investigation into an event during the 1984/5 miners' strike, when a picket at the Orgreave coking plant near Sheffield was violently dispersed with excessive force by South Yorkshire Police. This was condoned by the then Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher, who referred to the strikers as 'the enemy within'. At the time, the BBC faithfully broadcast a version of events that has now turned out to be biased against the miners.
In the 1980s, I regularly listened to BBC Radio 4 on longwave, living in Holland at the time. The BBC World Service was another source of information for me, and it had a reputation for unbiased, free and fair reporting. I extrapolated that to the whole of the BBC's output, but I don't think that was quite justified. The attitudes towards Jimmy Savile, compounded by the Orgreave revelations have damaged the broadcaster's integrity. The performance by the Director General, Mr Entwistle, this morning, did nothing to assuage my misgivings, in fact strengthened them.
Jimmy Savile, who died in November 2011 aged 86, is now known to have abused (vulnerable) children over a period stretching from the late 1950s until near the time of his death. Allegations, suspicions and rumours were never far from the star, and questions were asked - even to Savile himself - but never fully investigated or followed up. I cannot imagine what his victims had to go through over the decades to watch their tormentor persuing his career (both charitable and predatory) with impunity. Shortly after his death, an investigation by the BBC's Newsnight programme found creditable evidence of Savile's wrongdoing - but was inexplicably shelved at a day's notice. A few weeks later, on Boxing Day last year, a massive tribute was broadcast. But it was not until ITV broadcast the investigation that the BBC's Newsnight was barred from airing, earlier this month [I did not see it as I was in Holland at the time], that the cat finally came out of the bag.
To my mind, there was an attitude around (not just at the BBC) that Jimmy Savile was invulnerable, nobody could touch him - as he himself said in one interview. It does not say much good about attitudes at the broadcaster that this was allowed to continue for five decades. However, I have heard of at least one other person with a similar 'aura': Ratko Mladic, the erstwhile commander of the Bosnian Serb forces when overrunning the enclave at Srebrenica in 1995. Although there were dozens of armed UN soldiers around, nobody was able to put a bullet into Mladic - on account of the personality he radiated. And the same applies to Jimmy Savile.
This comes hard on the heels of an investigation into an event during the 1984/5 miners' strike, when a picket at the Orgreave coking plant near Sheffield was violently dispersed with excessive force by South Yorkshire Police. This was condoned by the then Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher, who referred to the strikers as 'the enemy within'. At the time, the BBC faithfully broadcast a version of events that has now turned out to be biased against the miners.
In the 1980s, I regularly listened to BBC Radio 4 on longwave, living in Holland at the time. The BBC World Service was another source of information for me, and it had a reputation for unbiased, free and fair reporting. I extrapolated that to the whole of the BBC's output, but I don't think that was quite justified. The attitudes towards Jimmy Savile, compounded by the Orgreave revelations have damaged the broadcaster's integrity. The performance by the Director General, Mr Entwistle, this morning, did nothing to assuage my misgivings, in fact strengthened them.
Monday, 22 October 2012
Monday 22 October
7 am this morning, and the string of lights to the right is the ferry departing for Ullapool. There was a beginning of light in the sky to the east, but this had not yet spread further. An hour later, another gorgeous day had broken, with bright sunshine and only a little cloud.Out of the wind the sun is still warm, and the thermometer peaked at 13C / 55F this afternoon. Put some bulbs into pots for next spring, and let's hope that the oncoming cold spell doesn't do them any harm. By the end of the week, we'll be deep into single figures (around 40F) with snow on the mountains, and no immediate end in sight to some cold weather.
The promise
As colour fades from the evening sky
A promise of renewal the next day
Whether sunny, cloudy, rain or snow
Colour will return another morn
The last leaf drifts down to earth
Nuts litter the woodland ground
A promise of renewal the next year
Life will return another day
Winter cold approaches from the north
As daylight hours diminish by the day
Soon white will dominate the land
Accentuating what colour is left
As snow blankets the sleeping soil
And fierce winds strafe the land
Green curtains flow in the distant north
And stars are seen for longer than the sun
But when winter's grasp seems fiercest
Unbreakable it would seem
Green tips pierce the frozen soil
And delicate blooms emerge
From underneath the warm white layer
The promise is fulfilled
And soon the winter cold takes flight
With light and colour restored
Eventually day and night equal in length
The snow retreats to the mountain tops
Life recurs, gambolling in play
As lambs fulfil the promise of life
A promise of renewal the next day
Whether sunny, cloudy, rain or snow
Colour will return another morn
The last leaf drifts down to earth
Nuts litter the woodland ground
A promise of renewal the next year
Life will return another day
Winter cold approaches from the north
As daylight hours diminish by the day
Soon white will dominate the land
Accentuating what colour is left
As snow blankets the sleeping soil
And fierce winds strafe the land
Green curtains flow in the distant north
And stars are seen for longer than the sun
But when winter's grasp seems fiercest
Unbreakable it would seem
Green tips pierce the frozen soil
And delicate blooms emerge
From underneath the warm white layer
The promise is fulfilled
And soon the winter cold takes flight
With light and colour restored
Eventually day and night equal in length
The snow retreats to the mountain tops
Life recurs, gambolling in play
As lambs fulfil the promise of life
Sunday, 21 October 2012
Sunday 21 October
Another cool but bright day, after some overnight rain. The leaves are falling off the trees now, having turned all shades of green, brown, yellow or red in the process. Went for a short amble over to Goat Island and round the power station this afternoon, and even on that relatively treeless stretch came across a few expressions of autumn. The forecast says we can expect a foretaste of winter by the end of the coming week, with snow on the hills and sleet at lower levels. Well, November isn't far off now, and summer a distant memory. The ferries and buses in our neck of the woods have now gone to winter timetabling; no major changes on the ferry to and from Ullapool, but there are fewer buses around. Usually. The problem is that the winter timetables for the buses have not yet been published. Yesterday was the last day of the Royal National Mod in Dunoon, across the Clyde from Gourock (west of Glasgow), which really signals the end of the season. From now on, all will be hunkering down for winter, and once the clocks go back next Sunday morning, the winter half-year will really have started.
In the below pics, the black and white boat is the local pilot boat. It has been laid up on the slipway since about July, when they found her to be springing a leak. On Friday, I discovered that the Monaco (last reported sunk at her berth) had been refloated alongside the Cromwell Street Quay.
In the below pics, the black and white boat is the local pilot boat. It has been laid up on the slipway since about July, when they found her to be springing a leak. On Friday, I discovered that the Monaco (last reported sunk at her berth) had been refloated alongside the Cromwell Street Quay.
The boat
Sailing the waters of the far northwest
Braving the elements, fair and foul
Guarding the lives of all on board
Bringing their livelihood safely to shore
Aided by motorpower, perhaps earlier sail
A net from the stern, or a line athwart
Hooks to catch mackerel
A creel for some crabs, or a lobster
Within sight of Suilven, Stac Polly or An Teallach
The Clisham a beacon, high up in Harris
Bowing for the blue men of Shiant
Or bucking in the Atlantic swell
Hastily brought in for that storm of a lifetime
Tethered on a mooring, in safety they thought
Found crashed on the boulders
When the storm had blown itself out
Many's a time I walked by on Goat Island
Ever more pieces went missing each time
Until only the bow remained on the strand
And finally only its soul, winging away to the Minch
Braving the elements, fair and foul
Guarding the lives of all on board
Bringing their livelihood safely to shore
Aided by motorpower, perhaps earlier sail
A net from the stern, or a line athwart
Hooks to catch mackerel
A creel for some crabs, or a lobster
Within sight of Suilven, Stac Polly or An Teallach
The Clisham a beacon, high up in Harris
Bowing for the blue men of Shiant
Or bucking in the Atlantic swell
Hastily brought in for that storm of a lifetime
Tethered on a mooring, in safety they thought
Found crashed on the boulders
When the storm had blown itself out
Many's a time I walked by on Goat Island
Ever more pieces went missing each time
Until only the bow remained on the strand
And finally only its soul, winging away to the Minch
Saturday, 20 October 2012
Dusk
The crescent moon rides
high in the sunset skies
cloudstreams far above
appear motionless
Reflected in the sea
not ruffled by movement
winking into the night
a reassurance from the lighthouse
A bird slowly glides past
looking for its last meal of the day
Nothing to be seen
darkness is nigh
Wisps of mist slowly drift by
gliding over the water
ghostly appearances
from the now faded day
The hunter now rises
chasing the bull
his two hounds faithful
close by to his east
As he moves to the west
will daybreak ensue
But what will that bring?
Only time will tell
high in the sunset skies
cloudstreams far above
appear motionless
Reflected in the sea
not ruffled by movement
winking into the night
a reassurance from the lighthouse
A bird slowly glides past
looking for its last meal of the day
Nothing to be seen
darkness is nigh
Wisps of mist slowly drift by
gliding over the water
ghostly appearances
from the now faded day
The hunter now rises
chasing the bull
his two hounds faithful
close by to his east
As he moves to the west
will daybreak ensue
But what will that bring?
Only time will tell
Saturday 20 October
A beautiful, sunny day but not feeling very warm. The daytime max was 11C, but as I type this (9.30pm), the mercury has plummeted to freezing. Hope the bulbs I put in pots will keep well, although said pots are right against a wall. Things are quiet in the tropics, except for the Caribbean Sea where a tropical disturbance (prosaically named 99L) is threatening rain to the islands of Hispaniola, Cuba and the Bahamas over the next few days.
Today was good for cloudscapes, so I'll share a few pics of those.
Apart from clouds, these pics clearly show the great weather we're having at the moment. Leaving the temps to one side, what's that, autumn?
Today was good for cloudscapes, so I'll share a few pics of those.
Apart from clouds, these pics clearly show the great weather we're having at the moment. Leaving the temps to one side, what's that, autumn?
The internees
It seemed like such a good idea
Sign up for the reserves
Already at sea most of the time
An old salt could learn new tricks
More out than in past Arnish
Down by the Shiants
Up near Rona
Sidle up to the Atlantic, unbeatable
Go on exercise every once in a while
Get a nice sum every year
A retainer for being ready
To drop all for king and country
Well, they shot that man way out yonder
And now the world's gone mad
I've got to go down to England
Train up for the real shooting stuff
What's this, I'm told, we're in a Division?
Not at sea but on land
Mr Churchill says so, he's our boss
Down to old Antwerp, halt Jerry Hun
Not in your wildest dreams, we're going back west
Where's that train, oh dear we've missed it
The CO says go north, boys
Let's take our luck, head up into Holland
So here we are in the land of the level
An old city, kind folk
They've got as little food as we get
Horsemeat is about the best we can expect
No fighting for us, we're interned
Some have escaped, back to Blighty they went
Others were let out to help with harvest at home
Came back, as they'd given their word
Hurray! war is over, peace for our time
But we haven't really fought, have we
Our kinsmen and friends fell valiantly
Whilst we chewed the cud in the Low Countries
No, won't mention this ever again
Sign up for the reserves
Already at sea most of the time
An old salt could learn new tricks
More out than in past Arnish
Down by the Shiants
Up near Rona
Sidle up to the Atlantic, unbeatable
Go on exercise every once in a while
Get a nice sum every year
A retainer for being ready
To drop all for king and country
Well, they shot that man way out yonder
And now the world's gone mad
I've got to go down to England
Train up for the real shooting stuff
What's this, I'm told, we're in a Division?
Not at sea but on land
Mr Churchill says so, he's our boss
Down to old Antwerp, halt Jerry Hun
Not in your wildest dreams, we're going back west
Where's that train, oh dear we've missed it
The CO says go north, boys
Let's take our luck, head up into Holland
So here we are in the land of the level
An old city, kind folk
They've got as little food as we get
Horsemeat is about the best we can expect
No fighting for us, we're interned
Some have escaped, back to Blighty they went
Others were let out to help with harvest at home
Came back, as they'd given their word
Hurray! war is over, peace for our time
But we haven't really fought, have we
Our kinsmen and friends fell valiantly
Whilst we chewed the cud in the Low Countries
No, won't mention this ever again
Friday, 19 October 2012
Friday 19 October
A nice, calm day after a very cold day. We went right down to freezing overnight, but awoke to bright sunshine.
In the afternoon, I went for an amble round the Castle Grounds to see how the autumn colours are getting along. Well, things are colouring nicely.
And the poetry is coming along nicely, thank you. The last one was inspired by the Lady Matheson Memorial overlooking the Outer Harbour.
In the afternoon, I went for an amble round the Castle Grounds to see how the autumn colours are getting along. Well, things are colouring nicely.
And the poetry is coming along nicely, thank you. The last one was inspired by the Lady Matheson Memorial overlooking the Outer Harbour.
The proprietor
A cupola and statue
Not far from his castle
Looking out east over the harbour
A man who made his mark
Now a marker of Remembrance
then a token of wealth
ruthlessly accumulated
the seedbox of the poppy, and its dried sap
A war was fabricated
in the distant Orient
over the trade in this soporific
this analgesic - this addictive
The benefactor, so hailed by some
Made many an improvement
But selective who would enjoy it
If you were in arrears, off in the boat you went
Decided by his managers
wearing more than thirty hats at once
an impressive act of balancing
an abuse of powers never seen before or since
An arbitrary power of eviction
not always based in law
exercised by those in his stead
compassion and empathy were alien to them
A mixed view from the modern times
of what some term a drugs baron
Others, one who put the island into modern times
Money talks, even to this day
Not far from his castle
Looking out east over the harbour
A man who made his mark
Now a marker of Remembrance
then a token of wealth
ruthlessly accumulated
the seedbox of the poppy, and its dried sap
A war was fabricated
in the distant Orient
over the trade in this soporific
this analgesic - this addictive
The benefactor, so hailed by some
Made many an improvement
But selective who would enjoy it
If you were in arrears, off in the boat you went
Decided by his managers
wearing more than thirty hats at once
an impressive act of balancing
an abuse of powers never seen before or since
An arbitrary power of eviction
not always based in law
exercised by those in his stead
compassion and empathy were alien to them
A mixed view from the modern times
of what some term a drugs baron
Others, one who put the island into modern times
Money talks, even to this day
The mill
Moved by the wind or the flowing of water
Grinding of corn, after dark
A meeting place for many in days long ago
None of them left, but in ruins or display
The water still flows, but passes them by
even restored, their wheels stand still
Not now do the villagers need their grinding done here
Far off machines supply all that they need
Only approved would they be allowed
If not, their stones to be broken
What more, the distilling of spirits
The water of life, from the black pot
Suddenly illegal, well, who is to stop
The still by the stream
In the back of the house
Don't breathe one word
Grinding of corn, after dark
A meeting place for many in days long ago
None of them left, but in ruins or display
The water still flows, but passes them by
even restored, their wheels stand still
Not now do the villagers need their grinding done here
Far off machines supply all that they need
Only approved would they be allowed
If not, their stones to be broken
What more, the distilling of spirits
The water of life, from the black pot
Suddenly illegal, well, who is to stop
The still by the stream
In the back of the house
Don't breathe one word
Thursday, 18 October 2012
Thursday 18 October
The day started with heavy showers and a strong northeasterly wind, but after midday, the rain ceased and gradually the sun started to come out. After sunset, the new moon was visible low over the southwesterly horizon. I read twenty pages from the Qu'ran and about 30 in my new chronological account about the First World War.
You'd think people would learn from an incident, but reports from the Coastguard in Essex would suggest otherwise. Near the town of Colchester, it is apparently possible to drive to Mersea Island, off the coast, via a causeway called The Strood. The only problem with this is that it gets flooded at high tide during springtides, which are occurring at the moment. So, yesterday someone got overtaken by water on The Strood, got out of their car and was swept away. Someone else managed to save the driver, but another seven vehicles also got into difficulties. The same happened today.
Looking on Streetview (see below), I could see no signage warning of flooding on this road, but I can only reiterate the Coastguard's advice to always heed the tides when near the sea.
View Larger Map
You'd think people would learn from an incident, but reports from the Coastguard in Essex would suggest otherwise. Near the town of Colchester, it is apparently possible to drive to Mersea Island, off the coast, via a causeway called The Strood. The only problem with this is that it gets flooded at high tide during springtides, which are occurring at the moment. So, yesterday someone got overtaken by water on The Strood, got out of their car and was swept away. Someone else managed to save the driver, but another seven vehicles also got into difficulties. The same happened today.
Looking on Streetview (see below), I could see no signage warning of flooding on this road, but I can only reiterate the Coastguard's advice to always heed the tides when near the sea.
View Larger Map
The storm
Dark grey and ominous, scudding by low
Sun breaking through, blinding brightness
Parallel lines streaking southwest
Pockmarking the water, running with tide
High in the sky towering tall
Deep freeze above, chilly below
A puddle now forms, where the drain is blocked
The pavement is washed, by each passing motorist
Tide rising high, through sun and moon opposing
Wind rising too, the equinox past
Angry white riders, rearing up tall
Crashing in fury, augmented by wind
The watery road is closed, as the spume flies
Tied up by the pierhead, lights dimmed
Wind rising higher, beyond Beaufort's scale
Soon triple digits, even in imperial
Stones, pebbles, spray, clatter from shore
The walls resonate with the onslaught
Are they still safe, will they keep us
No
Fleeing the elements into the darkness
From which they will never emerge
Sweet and salt water combine
And swept off to oblivion, five they were
That was a bad one, thank heavens it's daylight
My roof's gone, the barn's a wreck
Trees down, power is off
That's nothing.
Where are the five?
Sun breaking through, blinding brightness
Parallel lines streaking southwest
Pockmarking the water, running with tide
High in the sky towering tall
Deep freeze above, chilly below
A puddle now forms, where the drain is blocked
The pavement is washed, by each passing motorist
Tide rising high, through sun and moon opposing
Wind rising too, the equinox past
Angry white riders, rearing up tall
Crashing in fury, augmented by wind
The watery road is closed, as the spume flies
Tied up by the pierhead, lights dimmed
Wind rising higher, beyond Beaufort's scale
Soon triple digits, even in imperial
Stones, pebbles, spray, clatter from shore
The walls resonate with the onslaught
Are they still safe, will they keep us
No
Fleeing the elements into the darkness
From which they will never emerge
Sweet and salt water combine
And swept off to oblivion, five they were
That was a bad one, thank heavens it's daylight
My roof's gone, the barn's a wreck
Trees down, power is off
That's nothing.
Where are the five?
Wednesday 17 October
That was the start to the morning, and it stayed fairly bright all day. The northeasterly wind did nothing to warm things up, and we barely managed double figures. Overnight, the mainland saw a hard frost, with -9C / 16F being reported from deepest Aberdeenshire. Five hundred miles to the south, in London, the overnight low was 15C / 59F. The UK is a comparatively small country, but can certainly see some dramatic differences in weather. The Cairngorms (a mountain range with peaks over 4,000 feet, 30 miles south of Inverness) had their first covering of snow over the weekend. It's mid October, and we'll know about it.
It is also the week for springtides, which causes trouble for the ferry between Leverburgh and Berneray, 55 miles south of here. It cannot sail at low tide during springtide, because there is simply not enough (or just plain no) water in the channels of the Sound of Harris. At one point, the boat comes to a near full stop, makes a 90 degree turn on the spot, then proceeds. It is that tight. Low tide also offers me the opportunity to go down to the bottom of the basin across the way from me, and look for shellfish. Like in previous years, I did find some, but unlike previous years, they did not jump up and down on the tray. Scallops move around on the seabed by quickly opening and shutting their shells. These did not budge. Although not all of them will have been scallops (probably queen scallops), I was not going to chance eating them. You see the amount of growth (both seaweed and barnacle), so the content would have been decidedly off.
Earlier this week, the British Prime Minister and the Scottish First Minister signed an agreement to hold a referendum on independence for Scotland before the end of 2014. I have previously made my position clear on the issue: NO.
Wednesday, 17 October 2012
Three dozen their number
Long reach the arms of the sea
North from the channel off the isle of the mists
High rise the mountains
As they impotently block passage
Reach to the sky in vertiginous heights
Grey in the clouds, grey the rocks strewn
Brown in heather tumbling down
to a narrow green strip by the water
Three dozen their number, now only two
A ruinous house, the outline of walls
The poorest of ground, in strips parallel
Draining the bogland for crops
Fishing the waters to feed the mouths
Rearing some cattle for milk at the hearth
Three dozen their number, now only two
Where the others go to?
Look for them northward, on divided land
demonstrating the asymptote
the more you divide, the lesser you get
until you're near nothing, in all possible respects
Another sea arm, do not breathe in
You won't fit in your strip of land
You'll be wider than that
Three dozen their number, now only two
Whilst thirty-four cram onto alien shores
And two come and go
Their land went to sheep
But even that was not enough
And the stag now roars his lust
Whilst being chased, shot and gutted - for fun
Three dozen townships teetering
on the edge of existence
on the edge of the sea
pushed to extinction for the greed of another
Napoleon's defeat heralded their demise
Peace took their livelihood
An end to subsistence
An end to life, more than through war
What have we now, in the derelict corner?
A rich man's playground
A rich man's money press
Soon churning out power.
Three dozen their number
Now only two
North from the channel off the isle of the mists
High rise the mountains
As they impotently block passage
Reach to the sky in vertiginous heights
Grey in the clouds, grey the rocks strewn
Brown in heather tumbling down
to a narrow green strip by the water
Three dozen their number, now only two
A ruinous house, the outline of walls
The poorest of ground, in strips parallel
Draining the bogland for crops
Fishing the waters to feed the mouths
Rearing some cattle for milk at the hearth
Three dozen their number, now only two
Where the others go to?
Look for them northward, on divided land
demonstrating the asymptote
the more you divide, the lesser you get
until you're near nothing, in all possible respects
Another sea arm, do not breathe in
You won't fit in your strip of land
You'll be wider than that
Three dozen their number, now only two
Whilst thirty-four cram onto alien shores
And two come and go
Their land went to sheep
But even that was not enough
And the stag now roars his lust
Whilst being chased, shot and gutted - for fun
Three dozen townships teetering
on the edge of existence
on the edge of the sea
pushed to extinction for the greed of another
Napoleon's defeat heralded their demise
Peace took their livelihood
An end to subsistence
An end to life, more than through war
What have we now, in the derelict corner?
A rich man's playground
A rich man's money press
Soon churning out power.
Three dozen their number
Now only two
Tuesday, 16 October 2012
Tuesday 16 October
A beautifully calm and bright or sunny day, although not warm at 11C. Went for an amble to view progress on the demolition of the old buildings of the Nicolson Institute, which is nearing completion. The machines were continuing to gnaw and grind their way through what remains of the last edifice.
I was not surprised to read that former Bosnian Serb leader Radovan Karadzic has denied the charges of genocide that have been levelled against him at the International War Crimes Tribunal in The Hague. Karadzic, with his general, Ratko Mladic, is alleged to have heaped unspeakable horrors on the people of Bosnia-Hercegovina between 1992 and 1995, with the nadir being Srebrenica.
I was not surprised to read that former Bosnian Serb leader Radovan Karadzic has denied the charges of genocide that have been levelled against him at the International War Crimes Tribunal in The Hague. Karadzic, with his general, Ratko Mladic, is alleged to have heaped unspeakable horrors on the people of Bosnia-Hercegovina between 1992 and 1995, with the nadir being Srebrenica.
A walk in the moor
Overcast skies threatening rain
The long line of water dully reflects
the little hamlet on the far bank
Vehicles turn the distant corner
out of sight
The paved roadway dips then rises
Passes the gateway to lose its tarmac
The first lake looms up below
Rocks and debris litter the track
Floodwater impedes progress
Where's the road, where is the moor
Spaghnum between the wheelruts
A deep channel fails to drain from the edge
A fleece and some horns, a skull
In front of a second gate, abandon all hope
The rise ahead reveals a lake, another lake, another lake
Where can we pass - it's a narrow causeway
Distant hills reflect in the water
Doom-laden skies glower to the south
Battleship grey is the surface
A final gate, and now find your own way
Watch you step observe the plantlife
Here you can stand, there is a bottomless lake
Shrouded by virulently green watercress
Beware of the peathags, do not be hasty
One wrong move and you may not be found
Until the next spring - or next century
Feel safe on the heather, hug the contourline
Skirt the bulrushes, circle the lochan
The valley opens out, to the left lies the township
The mountains now close, blocking out the light
Guarding the homesteads, three dozen empty
Lining the shores, now home to the deer
The crossroads is reached, the light starts to fade
The fjord looms ahead, leading out to the sea
Complete, soundless silence
But in safety, back on the road
The long line of water dully reflects
the little hamlet on the far bank
Vehicles turn the distant corner
out of sight
The paved roadway dips then rises
Passes the gateway to lose its tarmac
The first lake looms up below
Rocks and debris litter the track
Floodwater impedes progress
Where's the road, where is the moor
Spaghnum between the wheelruts
A deep channel fails to drain from the edge
A fleece and some horns, a skull
In front of a second gate, abandon all hope
The rise ahead reveals a lake, another lake, another lake
Where can we pass - it's a narrow causeway
Distant hills reflect in the water
Doom-laden skies glower to the south
Battleship grey is the surface
A final gate, and now find your own way
Watch you step observe the plantlife
Here you can stand, there is a bottomless lake
Shrouded by virulently green watercress
Beware of the peathags, do not be hasty
One wrong move and you may not be found
Until the next spring - or next century
Feel safe on the heather, hug the contourline
Skirt the bulrushes, circle the lochan
The valley opens out, to the left lies the township
The mountains now close, blocking out the light
Guarding the homesteads, three dozen empty
Lining the shores, now home to the deer
The crossroads is reached, the light starts to fade
The fjord looms ahead, leading out to the sea
Complete, soundless silence
But in safety, back on the road
Monday, 15 October 2012
Hurricane update - 15 October
Hurricane PAUL has blown up into a major hurricane southwest of Baja California, with maximum sustained windspeeds of 105 knots, that's 120 mph. The storm is headed for the west coast of the peninsula, where the following warnings and watches are in force.
For the west coast of the Baja peninsula:
A HURRICANE WARNING is in force from Santa Fe to Puerto San Andresito, Mexico
A tropical storm WARNING is in force from Puerto San Andresito to Punta Abreojos as well as from Agua Blanca to south of Santa Fe.
NHC is issuing advisories every three hours. If you know anyone in Baja, please advise them of the situation; the hurricane warnings were only issued within the last few minutes.
For the west coast of the Baja peninsula:
A HURRICANE WARNING is in force from Santa Fe to Puerto San Andresito, Mexico
A tropical storm WARNING is in force from Puerto San Andresito to Punta Abreojos as well as from Agua Blanca to south of Santa Fe.
NHC is issuing advisories every three hours. If you know anyone in Baja, please advise them of the situation; the hurricane warnings were only issued within the last few minutes.
The far north
Looking out to sea, distant mountains looming
Rolling in from far away, long dark swells
Born of distant winds and currents
Immutable yet ever changing
A demure chapel, long since out of use
A place of devotion, for those no longer there
Once in summer, they would flock there
With their flock of beasts to tend
Rows of lowly houses strung out side by side
Strips of narrow land beyond
Stretching for a mile towards the shore
Where all ends on a precipitate cliff
Sand swirls on the currents
whether in the air or in the sea
Changing coastlines that impercetably crumble
Only the brick tower remains, a tall beacon
The ancient rocks, dating back to earth's beginning
Root the soil, thin and meagre
Where little grows, worthy of mention
Only a sea of flowers, next to the ever-moving sea
Journey's end's beyond the gate
A rock is all that will remain
As tangible reminder of
Those whose footsteps have long faded
Rolling in from far away, long dark swells
Born of distant winds and currents
Immutable yet ever changing
A demure chapel, long since out of use
A place of devotion, for those no longer there
Once in summer, they would flock there
With their flock of beasts to tend
Rows of lowly houses strung out side by side
Strips of narrow land beyond
Stretching for a mile towards the shore
Where all ends on a precipitate cliff
Sand swirls on the currents
whether in the air or in the sea
Changing coastlines that impercetably crumble
Only the brick tower remains, a tall beacon
The ancient rocks, dating back to earth's beginning
Root the soil, thin and meagre
Where little grows, worthy of mention
Only a sea of flowers, next to the ever-moving sea
Journey's end's beyond the gate
A rock is all that will remain
As tangible reminder of
Those whose footsteps have long faded
Monday 15 October - an island funeral
A bright and sunny day, with the odd light shower about.
This afternoon, I attended the funeral of an acquaintance, who died last Thursday of cancer. It may interest readers though to hear of the procedures that are adhered to at a funeral in this island.
The service was conducted at the Free Church (Continuing) in Sandwick. This split off from the main Free Church of Scotland a number of years ago. In common with the Free Church, no musical instruments were present in that place of worship, which was also totally unadorned. I was 20 minutes early, but the carpark was already full - and carparks at churches here tend to be very spacious. Virtually all the men were wearing black or dark long coats, particularly the elderly. Some of the ladies wore a hat. Once all the mourners were inside, the chief mourners (the relatives) filed in and the service commenced, at the exact time advertised. Those who know Stornoway will be familiar with the little death notices in the windows of certain shops. The notices intimate the time of the funeral, and the time of the service - in this case the service commenced half an hour before the funeral.
The service started with the singing of part of Psalm 98, where the tune was precented a capella by the precentor, with the congregation joining in, at their own pitch and at times their own tempo. One minister offered up prayers for the family, friends, colleagues and acquaintances of the deceased. A church elder then read from Isaiah 40 and Matthew 11, before Psalm 23 was sung in Gaelic. On that occasion, I hummed the tune, as the words are beyond me. Following a final prayer by another minister, the chief mourners filed out of the church with the rest of the congregation standing up, following on behind.
Once outside, a unique ritual began to unfold. The menfolk, myself included, filed up in two lines, standing next to each other. In between, the coffin stood on a bier, and men took turns to carry the bier a longer or shorter distance. The road was closed to traffic, and in this instance it was Sandwick Road, the main road linking Stornoway with the airport. There were about 200 people present, and the carrying of the coffin carried on to the junction with North Street, and up North Street. Once people had done their stint of carrying, they would stand aside and cast their gaze aside as well. Those who had not yet done a stint continued to follow the coffin, until they had their chance.
Once the procession had passed me, after I had done my bit of carrying, I left proceedings. A bus was ready to take the chief mourners to the cemetery at Gress for interment. I walked back to town.
Angus, RIP.
This afternoon, I attended the funeral of an acquaintance, who died last Thursday of cancer. It may interest readers though to hear of the procedures that are adhered to at a funeral in this island.
The service was conducted at the Free Church (Continuing) in Sandwick. This split off from the main Free Church of Scotland a number of years ago. In common with the Free Church, no musical instruments were present in that place of worship, which was also totally unadorned. I was 20 minutes early, but the carpark was already full - and carparks at churches here tend to be very spacious. Virtually all the men were wearing black or dark long coats, particularly the elderly. Some of the ladies wore a hat. Once all the mourners were inside, the chief mourners (the relatives) filed in and the service commenced, at the exact time advertised. Those who know Stornoway will be familiar with the little death notices in the windows of certain shops. The notices intimate the time of the funeral, and the time of the service - in this case the service commenced half an hour before the funeral.
The service started with the singing of part of Psalm 98, where the tune was precented a capella by the precentor, with the congregation joining in, at their own pitch and at times their own tempo. One minister offered up prayers for the family, friends, colleagues and acquaintances of the deceased. A church elder then read from Isaiah 40 and Matthew 11, before Psalm 23 was sung in Gaelic. On that occasion, I hummed the tune, as the words are beyond me. Following a final prayer by another minister, the chief mourners filed out of the church with the rest of the congregation standing up, following on behind.
Once outside, a unique ritual began to unfold. The menfolk, myself included, filed up in two lines, standing next to each other. In between, the coffin stood on a bier, and men took turns to carry the bier a longer or shorter distance. The road was closed to traffic, and in this instance it was Sandwick Road, the main road linking Stornoway with the airport. There were about 200 people present, and the carrying of the coffin carried on to the junction with North Street, and up North Street. Once people had done their stint of carrying, they would stand aside and cast their gaze aside as well. Those who had not yet done a stint continued to follow the coffin, until they had their chance.
Once the procession had passed me, after I had done my bit of carrying, I left proceedings. A bus was ready to take the chief mourners to the cemetery at Gress for interment. I walked back to town.
Angus, RIP.
Sunday, 14 October 2012
Sunday 14 October
A bright and sunny day, with only a few drops of rain. As indicated in previous post, it was autumnal in a quiet sense. Sundays are always quiet in this neck of the woods, and this week's was no exception. The ferry slipped out without any fuss, on the last Sunday sailing of the summer timetable. The winter schedule commences next Sunday, without changes on our route. The route between Harris and Skye will see an appreciable reduction in service, and the Sound of Harris ferry will start its tightrope walk between high tide and daylight.
Felix Baumgartner jumped from 128,000 feet down to earth in a matter of about 7 minutes. It took him more than 2 hours to float up to the altitude. I don't have a head for heights, and get giddy standing on a ladder. However, it all has to do with having points of reference. Nonetheless, plummeting to earth at 700 mph in just a spacesuit is a bit hairy for me. Well done Felix.
I have now started a Facebook page for my writings after receiving positive feedback, thanks all.
Felix Baumgartner jumped from 128,000 feet down to earth in a matter of about 7 minutes. It took him more than 2 hours to float up to the altitude. I don't have a head for heights, and get giddy standing on a ladder. However, it all has to do with having points of reference. Nonetheless, plummeting to earth at 700 mph in just a spacesuit is a bit hairy for me. Well done Felix.
I have now started a Facebook page for my writings after receiving positive feedback, thanks all.
Autumn
The golden light of autumn
streams in from the west
puffballs of clouds
sometimes drops of rain
The lanterns of red fuchsia
gently sway in the cool breeze
cripsed leaves float from the sycamore
as autumn closes summer away
The watchers stand reflected
in the mirror of the sea
A beacon to the east
looking out for those seeking guidance
Soon the evenings will have no sun
Orion marching up the nighttime sky
Fierce winds blowing in the winter
Gentle snowflakes on cold solstice air
streams in from the west
puffballs of clouds
sometimes drops of rain
The lanterns of red fuchsia
gently sway in the cool breeze
cripsed leaves float from the sycamore
as autumn closes summer away
The watchers stand reflected
in the mirror of the sea
A beacon to the east
looking out for those seeking guidance
Soon the evenings will have no sun
Orion marching up the nighttime sky
Fierce winds blowing in the winter
Gentle snowflakes on cold solstice air
Hurricane update - 14 October
Five active tropical cyclones around the world, on both sides of the equator.
Tropical storm Rafael is moving north out of the Lesser Antilles, leaving squally winds behind. The system will strengthen to a hurricane en-route towards Bermuda, but is expected to weaken upon passing the island (at some distance).
Tropical storm Paul is 660 miles south of Cabo San Lucas, the southern tip of Baja California in northwestern Mexico. This system will also attain hurricane force, but is expected to weaken considerably before approaching the peninsula.
Typhoon Prapiroon is moving slowly north and will strengthen a little before being swept away northeast to the south of Japan.
Tropical depression 23W is downwind from Prapiroon far south of Japan, and will not strengthen very much due to the relative proximity to that typhoon.
Tropical cyclone Anais is in the southern Indian Ocean, heading west southwest in the general direction of Madagascar. Anais is a category II hurricane, with winds of 85 knots, but will not threaten any land. Upon approaching Madagascar, Anais will have weakened substantially, and will only bring rain to that island.
Tropical storm Rafael is moving north out of the Lesser Antilles, leaving squally winds behind. The system will strengthen to a hurricane en-route towards Bermuda, but is expected to weaken upon passing the island (at some distance).
Tropical storm Paul is 660 miles south of Cabo San Lucas, the southern tip of Baja California in northwestern Mexico. This system will also attain hurricane force, but is expected to weaken considerably before approaching the peninsula.
Typhoon Prapiroon is moving slowly north and will strengthen a little before being swept away northeast to the south of Japan.
Tropical depression 23W is downwind from Prapiroon far south of Japan, and will not strengthen very much due to the relative proximity to that typhoon.
Tropical cyclone Anais is in the southern Indian Ocean, heading west southwest in the general direction of Madagascar. Anais is a category II hurricane, with winds of 85 knots, but will not threaten any land. Upon approaching Madagascar, Anais will have weakened substantially, and will only bring rain to that island.
Saturday, 13 October 2012
Saturday 13 October
An overcast and slightly chilly day, with no sun visible. Nonetheless, we did not have rain, which made a change from the past two days which were sopping wet. Received the news that an acquaintance of mine had passed away recently after suffering from cancer for a number of months. Will be paying my respects over the next couple of days.
Seem to have gotten onto a roll with this 'poetry' business, if you like. After the Iolaire, the Norge and the 1953 Dutch stormflood I wrote something earlier about the First World War, see previous entry. There is some strong language, but it is written from a serviceman's perspective and (being a former serviceman myself) I happen to know that they are not averse to a touch of swearing. It's one way of coping with the knowledge that the occupational hazard of a soldier is death.
There are some misgivings about the publicity surrounding the alleged misdeeds of the late Sir Jimmy Savile. I believe this publicity is quite justified. Jim fixed it for himself, but has suffered posthumous disgrace. He was so well known and well loved that, when alive, nobody dared speak out about the abuse he is alleged to have committed. For the sake of the victims, I think no stone should be left unturned. It is another expression of some pretty loathsome attitudes that existed in this country in the 1980s; I am referring to the Hillsborough cover-up in this instance.
Seem to have gotten onto a roll with this 'poetry' business, if you like. After the Iolaire, the Norge and the 1953 Dutch stormflood I wrote something earlier about the First World War, see previous entry. There is some strong language, but it is written from a serviceman's perspective and (being a former serviceman myself) I happen to know that they are not averse to a touch of swearing. It's one way of coping with the knowledge that the occupational hazard of a soldier is death.
There are some misgivings about the publicity surrounding the alleged misdeeds of the late Sir Jimmy Savile. I believe this publicity is quite justified. Jim fixed it for himself, but has suffered posthumous disgrace. He was so well known and well loved that, when alive, nobody dared speak out about the abuse he is alleged to have committed. For the sake of the victims, I think no stone should be left unturned. It is another expression of some pretty loathsome attitudes that existed in this country in the 1980s; I am referring to the Hillsborough cover-up in this instance.
Your country needs YOU
Come and join us, your country needs you
The old country needs you, come on and go
The Hun is afoot, he'll crush us all
Don't, and you're a coward, here's your white feather
Jump on the train, here is a corner
Have a fag, we'll be in France soon
March down the cobbled roads, the guns are calling
Here is your trench and here is your mud
Go on your ship and join the navy
Oh, you're now a soldier and not a sailor
Missed the train out of Antwerp
Missed the rest of the war interned in Holland
Sailing the seven seas, curse those U-boats
Dodge the torpedoes, strafe the subs
Lest they strafe you or leave you to drown
Better still Jutland, and knock Jerry for six
No volunteers left, not wanting, or all dead?
Draft them in, the dodgers, the malingerers
Push them to Haig's mincers, never mind they be ill
Never mind the trauma, won't go? Shot at dawn.
Givency, Somme, Passchendaele, add some more names
The glory is mud, the terror, the death
Torn to pieces, ripped to smithereens
Over the top, boys, hang in the barbed wire
What's the point, nothing is shifting
Jerry's bled white and so are we
Strategy's to pot, what's that, intelligence?
Throw out some chlorine, damn the wind's turned right round
November eleventh, the eleventh hour
Guns fall silent, the shooting has stopped
The point of it all?
You tell me, I don't goddamn know
The old country needs you, come on and go
The Hun is afoot, he'll crush us all
Don't, and you're a coward, here's your white feather
Jump on the train, here is a corner
Have a fag, we'll be in France soon
March down the cobbled roads, the guns are calling
Here is your trench and here is your mud
Go on your ship and join the navy
Oh, you're now a soldier and not a sailor
Missed the train out of Antwerp
Missed the rest of the war interned in Holland
Sailing the seven seas, curse those U-boats
Dodge the torpedoes, strafe the subs
Lest they strafe you or leave you to drown
Better still Jutland, and knock Jerry for six
No volunteers left, not wanting, or all dead?
Draft them in, the dodgers, the malingerers
Push them to Haig's mincers, never mind they be ill
Never mind the trauma, won't go? Shot at dawn.
Givency, Somme, Passchendaele, add some more names
The glory is mud, the terror, the death
Torn to pieces, ripped to smithereens
Over the top, boys, hang in the barbed wire
What's the point, nothing is shifting
Jerry's bled white and so are we
Strategy's to pot, what's that, intelligence?
Throw out some chlorine, damn the wind's turned right round
November eleventh, the eleventh hour
Guns fall silent, the shooting has stopped
The point of it all?
You tell me, I don't goddamn know
Friday, 12 October 2012
The bell tolls
The bell tolls
Hauntingly over the dark moving plain
Fast moving currents of air
and of water
Smash through the doors, flooding
The bell tolls
Its call answered from all corners, echoed
Driven ashore, the boat is stuck fast
The men taken off, on the edge
Taken to safety - the wind still howls
The bell tolls
An alarm call to all
The low tide at high tide level
The barriers stand, but what will hold
Force 12 at springtide flood
The bell tolls
Over torrents of water, flooding
Crumbling barriers, sweeping away all
Islands retaken, the sea reconquers
Lost for centuries, it reclaims within hours
The bell tolls
As dawn breaks, over a sea of death
Houses afloat, byres adrift
Roads washed away, the railway torn up
The tide has turned, but the water remains
The bells ring out their peal, joyously so
The barriers gleam white
Blocking river from the sea, deprived of its spoils
Peace for our time
Can we withstand?
Hauntingly over the dark moving plain
Fast moving currents of air
and of water
Smash through the doors, flooding
The bell tolls
Its call answered from all corners, echoed
Driven ashore, the boat is stuck fast
The men taken off, on the edge
Taken to safety - the wind still howls
The bell tolls
An alarm call to all
The low tide at high tide level
The barriers stand, but what will hold
Force 12 at springtide flood
The bell tolls
Over torrents of water, flooding
Crumbling barriers, sweeping away all
Islands retaken, the sea reconquers
Lost for centuries, it reclaims within hours
The bell tolls
As dawn breaks, over a sea of death
Houses afloat, byres adrift
Roads washed away, the railway torn up
The tide has turned, but the water remains
The bells ring out their peal, joyously so
The barriers gleam white
Blocking river from the sea, deprived of its spoils
Peace for our time
Can we withstand?
Friday 12 October
After an inch and a half of rain since yesterday, it has finally dried up this evening. There has been much more rain in northeastern Scotland, where a house was partly washed away in dramatic flooding.
Image courtesy BBC.
The first tropical cyclone of the southern hemisphere season (01S) has formed in the Indian Ocean near Diego Garcia, and will move westsouthwest across empty waters far to the north of Mauritius. The northern hemisphere season is by no means over, with typhoon Prapiroon south of Japan and minor tropical storm Patty off the Bahamas. Another storm could be forming near the Lesser Antilles, although 98L is only a very active tropical wave at present.
I have taken delivery of a book "World War One - A Chronological Narrative", which offers an overview of events between 1914 and 1918 / 19. I have a tenuous grasp of the subject, and it's useful to have the greater picture.
Image courtesy BBC.
The first tropical cyclone of the southern hemisphere season (01S) has formed in the Indian Ocean near Diego Garcia, and will move westsouthwest across empty waters far to the north of Mauritius. The northern hemisphere season is by no means over, with typhoon Prapiroon south of Japan and minor tropical storm Patty off the Bahamas. Another storm could be forming near the Lesser Antilles, although 98L is only a very active tropical wave at present.
I have taken delivery of a book "World War One - A Chronological Narrative", which offers an overview of events between 1914 and 1918 / 19. I have a tenuous grasp of the subject, and it's useful to have the greater picture.
The emigrant ship
Wide open ocean, headed southwest
Morning is breaking, all is set fair
Compass is pointing, but not the right way
From points in the east they have all come
Breakfast time comes, but the water is salt
A rock in the bottom, now a bottomless ship
Going back makes a right-angled turn
From east - now down
A new beginning from a stifling stranglehold
Young, old, and all, for reasons too old
A man and a cross, an onion-domed palace
Flocked to the northland, to now make the west
What's left is in boats, drifting northeast
Away from the new life, but for now still in life
Not all will reach salvation
As their coracles drift on the currents
A fishing boat here, another one there
Help is at hand, and terra firma beckons
An island and town, and a gravestone by a wall
All went for the new life, some do yet gain it
One boats drifts northeast, past the isle of the sheep
past the line of long sun, into the great cold
Never seen again in this life
Lessons were taught, but were they learned?
TITANIC
Describing the sinking of the emigrant ship Norge at Rockall in June 1904
Morning is breaking, all is set fair
Compass is pointing, but not the right way
From points in the east they have all come
Breakfast time comes, but the water is salt
A rock in the bottom, now a bottomless ship
Going back makes a right-angled turn
From east - now down
A new beginning from a stifling stranglehold
Young, old, and all, for reasons too old
A man and a cross, an onion-domed palace
Flocked to the northland, to now make the west
What's left is in boats, drifting northeast
Away from the new life, but for now still in life
Not all will reach salvation
As their coracles drift on the currents
A fishing boat here, another one there
Help is at hand, and terra firma beckons
An island and town, and a gravestone by a wall
All went for the new life, some do yet gain it
One boats drifts northeast, past the isle of the sheep
past the line of long sun, into the great cold
Never seen again in this life
Lessons were taught, but were they learned?
TITANIC
Describing the sinking of the emigrant ship Norge at Rockall in June 1904
Thursday, 11 October 2012
Thursday 11 October
An early morning flash of inspiration brought about the sixteen lines in the previous entry. It is inspired by the Iolaire Disaster of 1919, a seminal event in the history of the Isle of Lewis, and one that continues to haunt the islanders - and me. The day was wet and grey, in local parlance it was 'dreich'. I don't know how much rain fell, but it was at any rate not really warm - 10C / 50F. More rain is forecast, and particularly the western mainland is very wet today.
In two years time, it will be 100 years since the First World War broke out. The UK government has allocated £50 million to commemorate the event, including a major upgrade to the Imperial War Museum. I hope that the money will also go towards refurbishing things like war memorials (there are several in Lewis that need some TLC). Wargraves are in the continuous care of the Commonwealth War Graves Commission. In my own way, I'm trying to make a small contribution - have a look here Lewismen lost in the Great War.
In two years time, it will be 100 years since the First World War broke out. The UK government has allocated £50 million to commemorate the event, including a major upgrade to the Imperial War Museum. I hope that the money will also go towards refurbishing things like war memorials (there are several in Lewis that need some TLC). Wargraves are in the continuous care of the Commonwealth War Graves Commission. In my own way, I'm trying to make a small contribution - have a look here Lewismen lost in the Great War.
Eagle
Frantic beat the hooves down the road to the coast
Low sweeps the beam of the lighthouse over the waves
High rises the swell to crash on the beasts
Not lit, not shown up, lurking under sea
High fly the rockets but two hours past midnight
Hidden from view, beyond the glance of the prism
Mistaken for feasting, but no less the opposite
There's only one rope and too many waves
Boyling on the rocks, beyond the reach of succour
Carried ashore, but bereft of all life
Spared years of carnage, taken at the step of the year
Dawn breaks cold and cruel, one up the mast
Lived at the shore, returned on the strand
Returned in death to the isle of their birth
The teapot stands cold, the bed unslept in
Two hundred and five, sixty not found.
First published on my Facebook account
Low sweeps the beam of the lighthouse over the waves
High rises the swell to crash on the beasts
Not lit, not shown up, lurking under sea
High fly the rockets but two hours past midnight
Hidden from view, beyond the glance of the prism
Mistaken for feasting, but no less the opposite
There's only one rope and too many waves
Boyling on the rocks, beyond the reach of succour
Carried ashore, but bereft of all life
Spared years of carnage, taken at the step of the year
Dawn breaks cold and cruel, one up the mast
Lived at the shore, returned on the strand
Returned in death to the isle of their birth
The teapot stands cold, the bed unslept in
Two hundred and five, sixty not found.
First published on my Facebook account
Wednesday, 10 October 2012
Wednesday 10 October
A nice if nippy day in Stornoway with good spells of sunshine and a daytime max of 12C / 54F. Went into town for a number of items in the shops, and also to take a look at this boat which has sunk at its moorings. The Monaco has laid tied up alongside the Cromwell Street Quay in Stornoway since 2002, and has visibly deteriorated over all those years. Last weekend, I was surprised to find her moored right at the end of the quay, off Kenneth Street, and yesterday I was even more surprised to read that she had sunk.
As you can read in the linked article, the former pleasure craft has been the subject of a legal dispute, and is now likely to be declared a wreck.
Forty miles by road to the south, the community of Tarbert (and Harris as a whole) appears to be up in arms about the name of the newbuilt school there. Until this summer, it was known as the Sir E Scott School, after a former benevolent landowner. The local council has now named the school "Tarbert School" (translated from the Gaelic "Sgoil An Tairbeart"), and people don't like the dropping of the reference to Sir Edward.
As you can read in the linked article, the former pleasure craft has been the subject of a legal dispute, and is now likely to be declared a wreck.
Forty miles by road to the south, the community of Tarbert (and Harris as a whole) appears to be up in arms about the name of the newbuilt school there. Until this summer, it was known as the Sir E Scott School, after a former benevolent landowner. The local council has now named the school "Tarbert School" (translated from the Gaelic "Sgoil An Tairbeart"), and people don't like the dropping of the reference to Sir Edward.
Tuesday, 9 October 2012
Tuesday 9 October
Fairly bright day, not much wind but not very warm - we barely managed double figures. I resumed my look-up on WW1 casualties, a project I suspended last month at (nearly) the half-way mark. It is intended to bring all the information I hold onto one website. Another concatenation exercise, purely for my own benefit, is the Blog of Years. Each entry, for every day of the year, will have sections for the years 2004 - 2012, with a diary entry for each year under each heading. So far, I have progressed to January 4th.
Sir Jimmy Savile was a TV personality for 40 years on the BBC, with famous programs like Jim'll Fix It, making things happen for young people. It now appears that this knight of the realm is facing posthumous allegations of being a sexual predator on at least 30 women and young girls. His family will dismantle his gravestone in Scarborough (which consists of three huge panels) out of respect to the victims and those buried in the graveyard. The community at Glencoe (south of Fort William), where Savile spent his final years, is in shock, and the cottage where he used to live is not likely to be sold soon.
Sir Jimmy Savile was a TV personality for 40 years on the BBC, with famous programs like Jim'll Fix It, making things happen for young people. It now appears that this knight of the realm is facing posthumous allegations of being a sexual predator on at least 30 women and young girls. His family will dismantle his gravestone in Scarborough (which consists of three huge panels) out of respect to the victims and those buried in the graveyard. The community at Glencoe (south of Fort William), where Savile spent his final years, is in shock, and the cottage where he used to live is not likely to be sold soon.
Monday, 8 October 2012
Monday 8 October
Today is the 8th anniversary of my blogging activities. It started in 2004 from the computer in the youth hostel at Kyleakin, Isle of Skye, where I tapped out a description of the day's walk on a blog called Northern Trip. That blog remained in existence for 4 years, until AOL pulled the plug on all its blogs in October 2008. This blog, Atlantic Lines, was its successor and I marked its 4th anniversary last Monday, October 1st. Since starting in 2004, my blogging activity has mushroomed. I became involved with the community of bloggers on AOL who were known as J-land. It fell apart in 2008, but regrouped on Blogger and Facebook. A number of those friends are no longer with us, and I shall mark their passing at the start of November. Others have joined us, or merged with J-land from Blogger and Facebook. I have always found this a unique community, which remains as strong as ever, irrespective of its location on the WWW. In the years after 2008, I have embraced Twitter and Facebook as a means of sharing information with people who hold like-minded interests, such as local history and news in the Outer Hebrides.
Today was a nice day in Stornoway, with occasional sunshine and light winds. Temperatures remain low, with the daytime max at 11C / 52F, and a low of 2C / 36F a few hours ago. Locally, the Office of Fair Trading was in Stornoway to take evidence in the on-going row about fuel prices. An independent wholesaler of fuel (Highland Fuels) has started to supply a garage in Back, 7 miles north of Stornoway, and that garage now retails fuel at 9p a litre less than those supplied by the main supplier, Scottish Fuels.
Today was a nice day in Stornoway, with occasional sunshine and light winds. Temperatures remain low, with the daytime max at 11C / 52F, and a low of 2C / 36F a few hours ago. Locally, the Office of Fair Trading was in Stornoway to take evidence in the on-going row about fuel prices. An independent wholesaler of fuel (Highland Fuels) has started to supply a garage in Back, 7 miles north of Stornoway, and that garage now retails fuel at 9p a litre less than those supplied by the main supplier, Scottish Fuels.
Sunday, 7 October 2012
Sunday 7 October
After a cold night (3C) we managed 14C as an all-day high, but it felt far from warm when I walked the one mile to Sandwick Cemetery. Since returning from Holland on Thursday, a number of queries have wafted my way about local military history and one of these required me to look for a grave in aforementioned cemetery. I was not the only one there; a steady flow of cars through the cemetery indicated that a number of people took the opportunity to pay their respects to those that had gone on ahead. I was looking for the grave of Angus Mackenzie who had died of illness in 1919 after serving with the Canadian Expeditionary Forces during WW1. Unfortunately, it was not there. Angus originated from Braighe na h-Aoidhe, about 2 miles away near the present-day airport, and it is more likely that his last resting place is at the Eye Cemetery on the Braighe. I need to take a bus there, which obviously does not go on Sunday. As I completed my walk through the graveyard, ominous grey clouds were massing on the western horizon and I was treated to some light rain from Millar Road onwards. No, I did not really look in the Old Cemetery at Sandwick. I have access to two books which list each and every grave in that cemetery, which spares me the bother of going to look for it. The Old Sandwick Cemetery is ancient and the graves are scattered hither and thither, completely unlike the new cemetery, which is laid out in neat rows. As I finish this post, the smell of a curry dinner is wafting my way.
Saturday, 6 October 2012
Saturday 6 October
Fairly bright today, but feeling cold, with the mercury only just into double figures. However, we did get some nice spells of sunshine which made up for the lack of warmth. Went for an amble about town to see if anything had changed, but this was not the case. The only exception was at the site of the old Nicolson Institute, which is rapidly disappearing from the face of the earth, as the demolition nears completion. The main tourism season is now over, and the final whistle will go at the end of the half-term holiday, in a fortnight's time, and certainly when the clocks go back. The trees, like in Holland earlier this week, are beginning to turn as well. It's October, and we'll know about it. Tonight, a widespread frost is forecast.
Friday 5 October
After a morning agonising over my missing luggage, it finally turned up by taxi from the airport at 2pm. The tags on it suggested that it never left Schiphol with me, and only my query at Stornoway served to get it to me. It had come via Aberdeen to Stornoway on the Eastern Airways service that gets in here just before 2pm. All was present and correct. Spent the rest of the day catching up with pics and GPS trails. Nights are closing in now, it's getting dark before 7 o'clock. At the end of the month, the clocks will go back, leaving us with darkness at 5pm.
During the afternoon, someone was spotted walking down to the tideline in the basin across the road with a canoe. They put it into the water and proceeded to paddle away at a rate of knots. Unusual. It was low tide at that point, but fortunately we're at neap tide, meaning the low tide is not very low.
During the afternoon, someone was spotted walking down to the tideline in the basin across the road with a canoe. They put it into the water and proceeded to paddle away at a rate of knots. Unusual. It was low tide at that point, but fortunately we're at neap tide, meaning the low tide is not very low.
Friday, 5 October 2012
Thursday 4 October
After a lunchtime call at my sister's, I headed off for Schiphol Airport for the flights to Inverness and on to Stornoway. Although I was not allocated a window seat on the Inverness flight, I noticed a couple of empty seats, so relocated to enjoy the views down. We came over British territory over the River Humber, then flew north to pass north of Glasgow, finally to land into a decidedly chilly Inverness at 5.15pm. The onward flight to Stornoway departed 15 minutes early, presumably because all that were booked to go on it were already on board. We flew into the sunset, and began to run into showers on the approach to Point. Landed at 6.30, only to find that my luggage had not come with me. Filed a missing luggage complaint, and proceeded back to base, just as darkness fell.
Until my luggage returns, I will not be able to post pictures of this trip.
Until my luggage returns, I will not be able to post pictures of this trip.
Monday, 1 October 2012
Blogoversary
Although I am not currently blogging here, I still think it's worth noting that this is the 8th anniversary of my blogging, and the 4th anniversary of Atlantic Lines. I started on a blog called Northern Trip, which got axed by AOL in 2008, prompting me to move to this blog. Blogging has put me in touch with many, many people, to a man (or woman) most interesting kind and serving to broaden my horizon. Thank you all.
Thursday, 20 September 2012
Two week break
Just a brief message to confirm that I shall be blogging on the Shell Gallery as of Saturday 29th September. I have no internet access until that date, as I am on holiday in northern Holland. I shall return to Stornoway on Thursday 4th October, and will resume blogging here the next day.
Wednesday, 19 September 2012
Wednesday 19 September
Quite a nice day, in between the odd downpour, with good sunny spells and magnificent cloudscapes. The day started with a dazzling rainbow, and the display lasted all day, until sunset at 7.20pm. The night was cold, 3C / 37F, and is heading in the same direction. As I type this, the mercury has gone down to the same reading.
Here in the islands, there has been a fair bit of controversy over fuel and its prices. I have repeatedly reported our average fuel price at £1.50 a litre ($9 a US gallon), which is a good 20 pence higher than in Inverness. What is an eye-brow raiser is the fact that Inverness is supplied by the same seatanker that supplies us - yet we are being charged through the nose. However, the people in the Uists now have the added problem of no fuel supplies. The storage tanks at Loch Carnan have failed a safety inspection, and cannot now be used until they have been repaired. As a result, the wholesalers, Scottish Fuels, who hold a monopoly, are now having to truck in fuel from the depot here in Stornoway - which is hitting a snag known as a springtide. When you get a springtide, you not only get high tides, you also get low tides. This is preventing the ferry between Leverburgh (55 miles south of Stornoway) and North Uist from sailing, meaning that the roadtankers can't come. It's, quite frankly, an outrage.
Tomorrow morning I am flying to Holland for a two-week break with my family. I am returning to Stornoway on October 4th, and will resume blogging here the next day. Whilst in Holland, I will not have internet access until Saturday 29th September as I shall spend a week off internet in one of the northern islands. From the 29th onwards, you'll get my updates on the Shell Gallery. A post to confirm this is scheduled to appear here at midnight tonight.
Here in the islands, there has been a fair bit of controversy over fuel and its prices. I have repeatedly reported our average fuel price at £1.50 a litre ($9 a US gallon), which is a good 20 pence higher than in Inverness. What is an eye-brow raiser is the fact that Inverness is supplied by the same seatanker that supplies us - yet we are being charged through the nose. However, the people in the Uists now have the added problem of no fuel supplies. The storage tanks at Loch Carnan have failed a safety inspection, and cannot now be used until they have been repaired. As a result, the wholesalers, Scottish Fuels, who hold a monopoly, are now having to truck in fuel from the depot here in Stornoway - which is hitting a snag known as a springtide. When you get a springtide, you not only get high tides, you also get low tides. This is preventing the ferry between Leverburgh (55 miles south of Stornoway) and North Uist from sailing, meaning that the roadtankers can't come. It's, quite frankly, an outrage.
Tomorrow morning I am flying to Holland for a two-week break with my family. I am returning to Stornoway on October 4th, and will resume blogging here the next day. Whilst in Holland, I will not have internet access until Saturday 29th September as I shall spend a week off internet in one of the northern islands. From the 29th onwards, you'll get my updates on the Shell Gallery. A post to confirm this is scheduled to appear here at midnight tonight.
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