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MAYISLE.TXT
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1989-07-29
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LIVING ON AN ISLAND
=====================
A HIGH SEAS ADVENTURE WITH OUR INTREPID EDITOR,( SORT OFF )
In my job as a builder I`ve worked in some strange
places,none stranger though than an uninhabited Island six miles off
the coast of Fife.Before the lighthouse on the Island was made
automatic in the seventies,there were three guys permenantly stationed
there.The Island is a fair size,about a mile and a quarter by half a
mile,and there were three houses built for the keepers to live in.The
houses had been left to decay over the ensuing years and the Nature
Conservancy Council who owned the Island had decided to do up the
houses and rent them out to bird watchers and such,there is where
myself and my fellow builders came in.It takes roughly 40 minutes to
go there by boat on a good day and over an hour on a roughish day so
it was decided that we should all kip on the Island from Monday to
Friday,unfortunately for us though we had to doss down in one of the
derelict houses,given that the job had to be done when the birdies had
all raised their young and buggered off,this was October to November.
The first problem arose when we arrived and discovered that
the entire place was hiving with mice.Between May and October there is
a warden stationed on the place to make sure that the day-trippers
keep to paths and keep away from the nesting birdies and he informed
us that the mice there did not occur anywhere else in Scotland so we
could not kill the mice in the house.He issued us with humane traps
that caught the suckers but did them no harm.Unfortunately when we
took the traps outside and let them out they turned about and charged
straight back to the house.We started taking them further away each
time and got up to about 200 yards away and the wee b******s still got
back to the house within a couple of hours.Eventually we had to give
up but it was a tad unpleasant having mice running over your napper
and into your sleeping bag every night.The foreman electrician found
this particularly disturbing and the second week out he brought a tent
with him which he pitched inside the house,apparently a sound idea.His
problem came when we had a rather dodgy joint of ham for our tea one
evening and in the middle of the night he wakened up feeling sick but
before he could undo the zips,BLEEUUCH,honked up all over the inside
of the tent.Next morning he got on the radio-phone and called out a
boat,£60 it cost him.
There was no electric in the buildings we lived in only in the
old pump station where we eventually had a telly.To begin with we had
only a radio and a couple of hurricane lamps.There was footie on the
radio one night so we had taken some beer over to swill while we
listened to it.Drinking beer of course results in frequent and copius
wee wees.With the only bog on the place being in the wardens hut about
400 yards from us,we reserved that for number twos,widdles were
conducted in the long grass over the roadway from the house.It`s
surprising how dark,dark actually is when there`s no street lighting
so you kind of had to feel your way with your tootsies till you found
the grass.The apprentice though was a bit scared off the dark and
this,as it turned out,was not good.As I say we were all trotting over
to the grass for a pee until Mel goes out in his socks and comes back
saying," there`s been a shower of rain surely,the ground`s soaking
",course the apprentices face goes beetroot and under interogation
admits that he was too scared to go over the road and had peed out the
door onto the concrete,yeauch,hence soggy socks.
There is a deep ravine type bit on the Island,about sixty
feet deep,that the sea gushes in and out of as it comes in,and this
was the place where we dumped the rubble etc.For fresh water the
houses had been kitted out with flat roofs and large eight feet cubed
tanks made from steel,these over the years had rusted to bits and had
to be replaced with glass fibre ones.We sawed them in half with Stihl
saws and dumped them down the ravine.All went well till one got stuck
halfway down.There was about six of us looking down at this tank
wondering how to shift it.The first suggestion was to get big rocks
and heave them at it,sounded okay.The apprentice joiner lifted a rock
about 100lbs or so and carried it towards the edge.Unfortunately he
caught his foot and fell right at the edge.The boulder went over and
he went half over before his mate caught his jumper and pulled him
up.The poor kid was shaking so much he got sent back to the house to
make the tea.One down.The next idea was to take a long pole and climb
down to a ledge and try and poke it free,dodgy idea but the guy who
came up with it volunteered so it was deemed acceptable.He got down to
the ledge okay but was out of sight of the gaffer joiner who,in his
attempt to see,inched close to the edge and dislodged a stone the size
of a brick which duly fell twenty feet onto the guys head.Result,split
head,blood everywhere,sent back to the house for medical attention.Two
down.Next idea was to get a rope,lassoo a pipey bit on the tank and
get the dumper up to tug it free,seemed feasible.Problem came when the
first rope proved too thin and,after a couple of promising tugs,it
snapped and whipped back across the face of my labourer about taking
his eye out.Sent back to the house for medical attention.Three
down.The basic idea of the dumper and rope had been working so we got
a thicker rope.After some more tugging,the guy in the dumper suggested
he needed a run at it.He took a really long bit of heavy rope and
coiled it carefully at the cliffs edge attaching the end to his tow
bar.He climbed back on,revving away,chucked it into gear,and took off
as hard as he could.The rope uncoiled rapidly and the dumper covered
about 50 yards before the rope went taught,the dumper stopped dead,and
the guy shot over the steering wheel into the bucket of the
dumper,spraining his wrist and cutting his cheek.Four down.Me and
the other guy left looked at each other,said f*** it,and went back to
the house for our tea.It`s still stuck there for all I know.
The other enduring memory of the job was the grub.Everyone had
to take turns to cook and believe me,some were better at it than
others.Unfortunately the mice found this new found food source was too
good to miss and got into everything that wasn`t in tins.We opened a
loaf at tea time and took out slice after slice to pass around the
table.The first few were okay and then one had a little hole right in
the middle of the slice.The next one had a wee bit bigger hole,and the
next a bit bigger again.This went on for a dozen or so slices until
all that was left of the slices was the crust,no bread in the
middle.The process then reversed.A bloody mouse had torn a wee hole in
the bag and proceeded to eat itself into the loaf.Cue a couple of
rather green faces from the guys who had already eaten the first bits
out of the bag.
The nature warden was a great guy.I think he was there as an
alternative to the French Foreign Legion.Turned out his fiancee had
left him standing at the altar and he was trying to forget about
it.Seemed to work too until he drank his weekly bottle of whisky and
then wandered about the place at night shouting and swearing," Bloody
Bitch ! I gave her the best years of my life " etc.etc.When he
finished for the summer he was going off to the Antartic.Actually,he
wrote to various companies explaining his trip and giving less than
subtle hints about sponsoring him.One Friday,when the boat
arrived,there was a box for him with an attached letter.All excited,he
ripped open the letter and announced it was from Golden Wonder
regarding his Antartic expedition,he tore open the box to find half a
dozen Pot Noodles.The expression on his face had to be seen to be
believed.
The word seems to be that there is another contract to be
awarded for more work there,I`m going into hiding.