Don't look down

What sort of situation might provoke in you an urge to pray?

Perhaps a scene of natural majestic beauty - like this seascape, photographed on Islay earlier this year?

Or perhaps a situation of danger?

Let me tell you another of my true stories from the dark side of employment pre-Health & Safety Executive days.

This particular event happened early on in my roofing 'career.'

As I said before, I started that summer job with a very definite phobia about heights.

(It's no use telling me that choosing a job as a roofer was probably not the best option for someone like me: the truth of the matter is that it was all that was available at the time and it is amazing what some people will do for a little bit of cash!! Especially students.)

Anyway, I arrived at the site of our first assignment - a set of factory roofs in East Kilbride.

These were called 'nest factories' but this description had nothing to do with any avian housebuilding activities. I think it had something to do with most of the companies being 'fledgling' companies, but maybe I'm making that one up.

At any rate the one good thing about this being our first job was that the roofs of these particular factories were not too high. A mere 30 feet or so. A good place for an acrophobic* student to begin. [*look it up if you don't know what it means]

There was one drawback, however.

Although the roofs were only about 30 feet off the ground... the ladder we used to access it was a bit less than 30 feet. It meant that to get on to the roof you had to climb to the second top rung of the ladder then reach up to grab the flashing on the wall-head and pull yourself up the last three or four feet. When I saw one of the existing workers engaging in this particular acrobatic feat while simultaneously holding a large propane gas cylinder on his shoulder, I began to contemplate taking a vow of poverty for the summer. But I couldn't escape very easily and soon it was my turn to attempt to get onto the roof. It felt as if my stomach got up there before the rest of me but by concentrating hard and not looking down I managed it.

Well, this was to become a several-times-a-day routine over the next couple of weeks and eventually (to my own amazement) I too could be seen quickly shinning up that wallhead from the top of the ladder while carrying all sorts of objects, like buckets and brushes and compressor hoses... and, yes, even a propane gas cylinder. But I didn't ever dare look down.

Now, the 'regular' workers knew that we were all students but, as far as I was aware, they had no idea what subjects any of us were studying. (For a lot of the time neither had we, but that's another story!)

We were a diverse foursome in this respect.

Electronics. Chemistry. Law.. and, of course, in my case... Theology.

But nobody knew... I thought.

Then, one day, the foreman (a rough, red-faced Glaswegian by the name of Ronnie) was holding the foot of the ladder on which I was climbing. His job was to make sure the ladder did not slip. I was carrying something in my hand at the time. I think it was a bucket.

I was almost at the top of the ladder and therefore reaching up to take hold of the wallhead with my free hand when suddenly the ladder started to fall back away from the wall into a vertical position. Involuntarily, I looked down!! Almost 30 feet below me Ronnie was pulling the ladder backwards and forwards, backwards and forwards, while I clung desperately to the top of it like some sort of performing monkey.

And from down below I heard Ronnie's voice bellow out in mocking Glaswegian tones "Aw right then, Reverend, let's hear ye saying yer prayers noo!! Ha! Ha!"

He didn't hear me...

but -believe me- he had certainly provoked within me an urge to pray!

Long live the King

It seems no one has told the Post Office on Islay that we have a 'new' monarch.
Only since 1952, of course.
So it might be considered a little rash and hasty to have replaced all of the post boxes so soon. Oh, in case, any of my non-British readers haven't a clue what I'm talking about, have a look at the photo above of a post box on the wall of Laphraoig Distillery on Islay.
Above the opening for "Letters Only" you will see GVIR which refers to the late (some might say very late) King George 6th.

I suppose one generous way of looking at this is to see it as a refreshing alternative to what normally happens when Government Departments are restructured leading to a complete and costly corporate-image makeover.
I guess the philosophy is that if it is still working - why replace it?
Perhaps we need a little bit more of this sort of thinking. It might mean that we produce much less waste and pollution. Sadly, I fear the concept of 'planned obsolescence' is too deeply ingrained into our psyche in the Western world.

However, on the subject of post boxes, and UNplanned obsolescence...
I have recently chuckled my way through Bill Bryson's "Notes from a Big Country"
In one of the sections he lists various examples of stupidity and the seemingly inane advice that is often printed on American products (such as instructions on an electric iron not to use it in conjunction with explosive materials.)
But I'll let him tell you the rest in his own inimitably humorous style:

"Until a few days ago my instinct would have been to chortle richly at people who need this sort of elemental guidance, but then three things happened that made me modify my views.
First, I read in the paper how John Smoltz, a pitcher for the Atlanta Braves baseball team, showed up at a training session one day with a painful-looking red welt across his chest and, when pressed for an explanation, sheepishly admitted that he had tried to iron the shirt while he was wearing it.
Second, it occurred to me that although I have never done anything quite so foolish as that, it was only because I had not thought of it.
Third, and perhaps most conclusively, two nights ago I went out to run two small errands - specifically, to buy some pipe tobacco and post some letters. I bought the tobacco, carried it straight across the street to a Post Office letter box, opened the lid, and deposited it. I won't tell you how far I walked before it dawned on me that this was not a 100 per cent correct execution of my original plans.
You see my problem. People who need labels on pillarboxes saying 'Not for Deposit of Tobacco or Other Personal items' can't very well smirk at others, even those who iron their chests or have to seek lathering guidance from a shampoo hotline."

[Bill Bryson: Notes from a Big Country, 1999]

So here's a challenge to you, and your willingness to confess your own stupidity...what's the most bizarre thing you have ever accidentally dropped into a post box?

PS. Looks like the Islay post box may not have been cleaned much since the days of King George either.

Too much of a good thing?

On the basis that you can never have too much of a good thing (though sometimes that may be a questionable assumption - see below*) here is another little dose of Islay serenity. This is Port Charlotte with the evening sun dropping down behind.

The food at the Port Charlotte Hotel was pretty good, even the bar meals. I had a delicious sea bream one night, cooked to perfection. However, getting a table is difficult on evenings when there is live music and you really ought to make a reservation in advance, but if the staff can squeeze you in they will.



*The bar offers 143 very fine malt whiskies at prices ranging from under £5 to over £70 a shot. Needless to say I was not able to assess the full range on offer. This may be one instance when you could easily get too much of a good thing!

Most important of all the staff are very friendly, especially the owners, Grahame and Isabelle.
I had a good chat with one of the barmen, Alan, a Yorkshire man who had come to love Islay and its people so much that he decided to go and live there permanently. (not the man in the picture by the way)


Don't worry: I'm not going to post all of my 'holiday snaps.' (I took about 500 in 4 days.) But I'll probably share a couple more over the next few days.

Hebridean Jewel

Just to let you appreciate how even four days on Islay is a real holiday here is a picture I took of the view from our B & B on Tuesday morning.
Admittedly there were other moments when the view was only of the inside of a cloud, but those times make the moments of serene beauty and majestic simplicity such as you see above all the more breath-taking.
Life is like that.
Sadly, I think too many people spend too much time remembering and complaining about yesterday's clouds, or fearing tomorrow's rainy forecast, to savour today's glimpse of heaven.

Water of Life

You haven't heard from me for a few days because we've been on holiday (vacation) for a few days on the beautiful Hebridean island of Islay (pronounced Ai-la, for those who may not already know.)
It really is a spectacular place whatever the weather - and, believe me, we had every kind of weather, usually within the space of 15 minutes. Never mind "four seasons in one day," in the Hebrides you get four seasons in one hour!
The picture above was taken at Machir Bay- a long wide stretch of empty sand onto which pound the Atlantic breakers. At one point it became busy... two other people and a dog joined us!
Of course, Islay is famous most of all for its whisky. Although a small island there are nine distilleries producing some of the world's most famous malt whiskies. Clearly, these were places that had to be explored.... purely for the purposes of research, you appreciate.
I must confess, however, that after the first distillery tour visit which we undertook, I emerged legless.

Lest anyone misunderstand me, though, I should quickly point out that I am referring to the state of my spectacles- one leg of which somehow got bent after I had placed them down somewhere. Foolishly I tried to restore them to their former shape only to find the leg snapping off completely.This was, to say the least, inconvenient. (Actually, that's not exactly how it put it at the time but we'll leave that to your imagination.) The problem is, I need to wear my glasses for driving and although my wife did much of the driving (especially after visits to distilleries...) I still had to do my share. I discovered that one spectacle leg was usually sufficient, as long as I didn't shake my head about, which, fortunately is not something I tend to do when I am driving anyway.
Out among the public however it was a different story. For even though there are not usually very many members of the public around on Islay to bump into, I did feel a bit foolish wearing my monopod spectacles. It's not a fashion that I expect will catch on soon.
Another problem emerged which I had not anticipated. I wear vari-focals which means that different parts of the lenses are shaped for different distances. Not usually a problem - you simply point your nose towards whatever you are looking at and, normally, this results in you looking through the correct part of the lens, whether it is viewing something in the distance, something close-up, or something in between.
It works very well as long as the spectacles are horizontal. And for that to be assured at all times, you really need two legs. (So do the spectacles.)
Sometimes the glasses (because of their decreased quantity of legs) were not always exactly horizontal but what I didn't realise was that my eyes were actually working hard to compensate. I only realised it when I took the spectacles off on on occasion while I was walking. Suddenly nothing was in focus, and it was as though I were wearing someone else's glasses. The ground in front of me swirled and rippled and buckled. It felt as if someone had turned on special visual effects. I nearly fell over. [By the way, I had not been visiting any distilleries at this point!!]
It was a very weird sensation. Reminded me of that song lyric "I feel the earth move under my feet" though it was more like "I see the earth move in front of my eyes."
Weird sensation.

When you visit a place as wild and beautiful as Islay the very last thing you want is to be unable to see, so I was very relieved that it was only the leg of the spectacles that had broken and not the lenses.
I was reminded also of the profound words of the blind Helen Keller who once said:
"The worst calamity: 'To have eyes and fail to see.'"
Sadly, there are many who enact such tragedies daily.

Sadly, too, there are many whose vision is horribly distorted. We flew over to Islay from Glasgow Airport a few hours before it became the target of a terrorist attack. On our return we saw the damage that had been inflicted and could only imagine how much more awful it would have been had the plan of the perpetrators actually succeeded.
How can anyone, in the name of their God, ever think that blowing up innocent bystanders (or even guilty ones) is a righteous act? And, if it turns out that those so far arrested are guilty... how can it be that people who have trained to save life can treat life so casually?
Thank God no one was hurt, apart from one of the alleged bombers.
Members of the public made sure they didn't get away. On a lighter note, one of my favourite quotes from the incident was this: "Only in Glasgow do suicide bombers need rescued from the locals by the police."