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
Saturday, 20 October 2012
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.
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