Preparation

I'm at the end of my tether, blackened by foul bilge water, back aching by abstract bending, twisting and kneeling. Frustrated by hose pipes dribbling like noses, tired of, "Cheaper Brand," washing up liquid, in a futile attempt to scrub the dead shell debris of last year out of my boat. Why is it, the last job you'd want to do is the first job you must do? But what this means is; it has begun, there is no going back, cleaning, washing, scrubbing, knuckle scraping, sanding, painting, anti-fouling, cut the line in, trimming, caulking, fitting, engine maintaining, glossing, varnishing, finishing, floating, finally floating. How good will it feel to be once again floating, once again boating.

The harbour fills with the wailing screech of competing outboard motors, rivalling that of the hard done by gulls, as the days thicken with ice cream tourists. The Trinity House Captain arrives for our annual lighthouse inspection and passes us fit once again for business, safe for ships to visit. Lime wash whitened walls brighten the village, redesigned signs sprout up showing which way not to go. windows and doors are thrown open letting in the spring sunshine and the worn thin winter is folded up and put away, soon to be forgotten. Shops fill with the recently delivered trade fair souvenirs, cheap gifts, cheaper sweets and the same old familiar view postcards.

Important meetings are held and drank through, organizing the organizers of the season's forthcoming festivals and events, taking minutes to write up memorandums to forward to the interested parties so they can be organized; and we mustn't forget the, "Celebration of Local Ales and Ciders," from the 23rd to the 25th of May.

So I sit parcelled in my tight knit village, staring out at the blue, blind sea, waiting for the equinox weather to settle upon the lobster rocks and a mermaid to return to my shore. Working towards the next day of my life, that shall be as full of the thoughts of tomorrow as today; watching as a boat burdened by lobster pots slips away to sea, passing the pasty watching seagulls and the unseeing tourists too busy thinking of the journey back to the top. But for now I must continue, cleaning, washing, scrubbing, knuckle scraping!