Harold
Lowena
Michael & Amanda Dyer
Fri 7 Dec 2007 13:18
Today we had a visitor. A singularly rare occurrence for those at sea. Nevertheless, 'Harold' as he has become known, flew around the boat a couple of times before making a somewhat drunken landing on the pushpit. Harold is of course a bird, an egret in fact, and from his scrawny malnourished frame it would appear that he has passed the zenith of his youth. Whether he lives or not remains to be determined, but his chances have certainly improved since hitching a free ride to the Caribbean.
Mother dearest took my advice and let the bread rise for longer, before putting it in the oven. My job as baker was only temporary it seems (not that I mind – cooking in the tropical heat is not the most enjoyable experience). So now I can concentrate my efforts on composing music once again. Strangely enough, being on a boat is the ideal environment for a composer as there are none of the distractions one finds in everyday life- no television, no phone, no going out. And there is a cornucopia of different sounds – from the creaking and sighing of the rigging, to the gentle hum of the breeze and the gushing of water along the hull. Exiled from all distraction, being at sea enhances one's imagination to a strange extent. The sounds of the boat seem to resemble all manner of things, from the screaming agony of a wounded man to the laughter of children, and the little things, from watching the night sky to the reading of a good book take on a vividness and reality unbeknownst to land-lubbers. It is as if one's brain turns in on itself. Perhaps extended treatment of this sort would result in madness. Good job we've only got 753 miles to go.