Tag: Travel

2. Leaving and arriving

Well my ‘flu has subsided, thank heavens, I genuinely don’t think I have ever felt so ill in my life before. I am still not back at work, and have been keen to use the quiet time to continue with laying down the journal I kept in 1988 when I visited the Falkland Islands as a Scientific Officer with the fisheries department.

It should be obvious from the journal itself, but my girlfriend at the time was called Deborah. The next few entries describe some of the upset of leaving loved ones behind. It was tough, but exciting too.

Thursday 3 March 1988. Montague Place, London

It is these pages which I shall return to for home comforts during those ‘black’ periods I am sure to have on my voyages. I shall remember the bomb site loosely described as my bedroom. Remember the phone call with Deborah in which she told me she was coming to London tonight and not tomorrow afternoon as planned.

Every time I go away I spend a fair amount of my time recording music – I don’t know where I would be without music. Jim said that rechargeable batteries are essential – I may have to get some. Also, I may copy him and get a small electric organ, for hours of composition fun.

Tonight I say my farewells to Dad, he is taking Karen and me to a restaurant somewhere in the St Martin’s Lane area.

Deborah’s present is great – I wish someone would buy ‘Hockney, a Retrospective’ for me!

It seems that I, like everyone else, buy presents which I myself would only love to receive given half a chance.

I said my farewell to Sean – he will keep me posted re AFC. I hope he keeps his word.

I received my ticket this morning – no turning back now. I think I ought to give Neil Downs a buzz.

Saturday 5 March 1988. Montague Place, London

A lovely meal at the Chicago Pizza Pie Factory and a drink at le Beaujolais was as much of a send-off as anyone could ask for.

Seeing Deborah off was painful – I didn’t think I would cry, but it was inevitable. Everyone tries to kid me that (5) 10 months is such a short time. It isn’t.

My coat problem was solved today – Richard gave me a Barbour type coat when Deb and I went to say goodbye. I shall see such a change in Helen when I get back. I have a stack of clothes and bits to take.

The Lucian Freud exhibition at the Hayward was enjoyed far more by Deb than by me.

Sunday 6 March 1988. Montague Place, London

I am not certain, but I could be terrified. It is all still unreal. Less than 24 hours, and my adventure will have begun. I would like to think that I could be home with the snap of the fingers, but must be content without any such luxury. Everything is set and ready to begin.

I will miss very much everyone whom I love and this makes me sad, but this cannot hold me back. Missing Deborah already. Very much. How is she so understanding?

Some things have been left undone, but I do have tomorrow.

My next entry will probably not be made for a couple of days, although I hope I can do some writing on the aeroplane.

I am too tired to stay awake, too excited to sleep.

Arsenal beat Spurs 2:1 at Highbury.

(At this point there are letters from both of my grandmothers stuck into my journal. They are both personal and very touching. Sadly both have since passed away, but their advice, love and guidance was an essential part of this extraordinary year)

I love my grandparents. They write so well.

(There were a couple of further cuttings in my journal, the last ones before leaving the UK. The first is an article from the Sunday Times on 6 March 1988, which was a little unsettling, and the other was the standings in the Barclays League First Division. I wasn’t going to let a few thousand miles stand between me and football!).


Wednesday 9 March 1988. Port Stanley

The flight, although very long, was ok. I think boredom was the most challenging problem to overcome. The jet, a tri-star, was rather like a bus or a coach, very smooth. Ascension was like a Dr Who set, lava and dust everywhere. I picked up a small piece of lava from the airstrip. It was very hot, 80 degrees at 7:30 in the morning, and I could have happily stayed there.

On to the Falklands. I don’t feel I’m here – getting down was so easy, I could just as easily be in a small Cornish village.the buildings are colonial wooden or post-colonial wooden and corrugated iron.

My first task today was to accompany ‘the Warrah’ a small patrol vessel, to Berkeley sound for some checking up on jiggers, trawlers and reefers. It was quite rough but the Stugeron sent me to sleep. I saw my first wild dolphins today, and Gentoo penguins and steamer ducks too. The cormorants here have white breasts.

Jim went to sea in a Taiwanese jigger – he was not too happy about it.

And so my journey had begun. I am enjoying reading through my journal, bringing to life some experiences that happend half a lifetime ago. I will try to make time to do another upload soon.

Stephen

1. An Ill Wind

I have chosen to begin my journey into blogging by revisiting an adventure I had when I was a youthful man of 24 years, and had the world at my feet.

The title reflects more the circumstances I find myself in right now (February 3, 2015) – I have ‘flu and am at home with a few moments to write – than anything directly related to my story.

  • It is an Ill wind that blows nobody any good. Often misunderstood. The saying is based on the premise that when something is bad, someone else will usually benefit. However, it must be very bad, when nobody at all benefits. (Thanks Wikipedia, you have no idea how I have struggled to explain this to people).

On 22 February 1988, I received a letter from Peter Derham Associates Ltd, which was to change my life. I had a job offer to work in the Falkland Islands as a Fisheries Scientist.

I had been to University to study Marine Biology, and then took further studies in Fisheries Biology and Management, so I suppose it was a job offer that was too good to turn down. And it sure beat the hell out of the dismal temp jobs I had in London – photocopying flunky, stock-taking minion and billing accounts checker for a heating firm.

On the downside, I would miss my girlfriend and family terribly, and I was really entering unknown territory. I was a good traveller, with plenty of ‘Inter-rails’ and other trips under my belt, but this was a little more serious.

I had no time to fuss though, my flights, pending a medical examination, were booked for the 4th March – an incredibly short 10 days away.

Now to the point of this blog. I kept a log of my entire experience, and now have the opportunity, thanks to the incredible Interweb, to share the diary. I wrote it with the show-off inside me believing that it would interest others in time. I am not certain that will be the case, but I am rather looking forward to reproducing pages from the diary over the coming weeks and months. I hope you enjoy it too.

Enough already with the introduction, let’s get into the story with a beginning, a middle and an end, but without a deliberate or contrived plot. It is what it is, what it was.

Wednesday 2 March 1988. Montague Place, London.

I will always try to keep this diary as up to date as possible, but my past experience(s) is (are) not encouraging. I could make an introduction about how private this journal is etc., but it may be my intention for people to read this (if they can) after I return.

For two weeks now, since I heard about the job and made the decision to take it, I have been haring around London buying clothes, camera, pen-knife, Walkman, marmite, Stugeron, writing paper, books. I still haven’t finished. I have also visited Bangor with Andy and been to Newcastle to see Deb. That was last weekend.

My preparations are almost complete, but I bet I forget some things. Jim and I had a great chat yesterday. It brought me down to earth with a bit of a thump, thud, bang or crash and made the Falkland Islands a little bit more real.

I am very much looking forward to going, but will miss Deb, the family and friends. I am sure I can cope with the loneliness, and after all, it is a small price to pay to have a job which is really ideal for me. (Update 27 April 1988 – This is not true. It is a large price to pay!).

I hope I don’t get seasick!

I will continue with the blog, when next I have a moment.

Stephen