Boatman's Blog

We had a couple of Carlos' friends from his college staying last week. They are on his course- Industrial Design of Engineering- and in their second and final year of their Masters they have chosen to do a project entitled "Scarcity".

Thinking it was apt to record the lifestyle on the island, they made the effort to stay.

...Although I'm back on board again this week.

I tiled the wall behind the stove on Saturday. It needed to be done, because last year, when it was really cold and we made the fire really hot, we woke up in the night and the wall was smoking. In fact it was smouldering and ready to flame.

I've been away. Flaked from The Island. Comfortable in the security of a house. Bricks and morter. Double glazing. A shower. The Works.

Well, shame on it. The lady with the dog let me down. I've spoken to her a few times and the conversations became increasingly incomprehensible and futile. She mentioned something about Bullseye being with the RSPCA. I'm staying away.

Last week I was lucky. The tide was down whenever I woke to get to college and down when I got home. This week's gonna see fish in a different kettle.

This morning set me with a dilemma. Walking to Gunnersbury I saw a beautiful dog off the lead. Like a Husky and an Akita, it had a thick white coat, solid build, alert, triangular ears and a long tail gracefully curved over its spine.
I went to pet the animal and the owner appraoched. I told her what a beautiful creature it was and she agreed but told me she has bad asthma and needs to find a new home for Bullseye the Russian Samoyed.

Carlos' brother and a friend spent the last couple of weeks in London after visiting the country from Argentina, touring with a football team. They happily spent a week on Flamenco, mucking in with the cleaning and fetching water.

Carlos got back to Flamenco two nights ago. He's been at the Burningman Festival in the Nevada desert for the past six weeks. So no more long and lonely nights, just differences of opinion and testosterone fights!

Everything seems to have simmered down for this murky, muggy August. No problems, no action, just money-making, eating, sleeping and making Flamenco fresher.

I was walking home along Brentford high-street late last night, after having watched the new Batman film and a young lady approached me, asking if I've, "Got a spare cigarette, darlin'". She was clutching something to her face- at first it looked like a phone.