Thankful Thursday: Fifteen Years

Scriptor's and my father, Morris Edwards, died 15 years ago today.

In the past I have posted photos of Dad. Today I might post a photo but I thought that I would relay some of my memories of him.  

I can only recall two occasions when Dad got annoyed with me (there were probably lots but if there were he never showed it). One still strikes me as bizarre. I ate anything that was put before me as a child. Until one day at dinner celery appeared.  I remember nothing about how or why celery appeared (I can't imagine that it was a usual food 65 years ago) on the dinner table but it did. I wouldn't eat it.  Dad asked me to leave the table. The fact that it was so unusual can be demonstrated by the fact that I can still recall it.

Another memory is of climbing Moel Fammau as a youngster with Dad. I must have been very young because my brother wasn't with us.  We were descending from the summit when a squall with very strong wind hit us and I was blown off my feet and at danger of being blown down the hillside. Dad did a rugby tackle lunge to catch me and keep me safe. It was a long, wet return home!

Dad was also a very calm person. During the war he was in a reserved occupation so couldn't join the forces. I recall someone saying to him "Ah but you weren't in the war were you?". To which Dad's response was "Being a fireman on the Liverpool Docks with bombs falling all round you wasn't exactly a bundle of laughs." And that was that.

Dad probably never recalled any of those incidents once they had happened. They've stayed with me for well over half a century.

Mum and Dad leaving Childwall Church on their wedding day.

The First Time....and The Last

I have a problem. By inclination I am vegetarian. I do like some meat and I do eat it. I like fish. I can catch a fish, kill it, gut it and cook it. If I do, though, I can't eat it. I much prefer it if someone puts fish on a plate for me. Today I decided to have a frozen breaded fish for dinner. So far as I can recall it's the first time I have ever bought frozen breaded fish. It will certainly be the last.

One would expect from the packaging that what one was purchasing was predominately fish.  Does 54% fish constitute predominantly? It is, marginally, the largest constituent in the package but not what I had expected.

 

 It was certainly the least appetising form of fish that I have ever had placed on a plate before me.

 

 

I ate the 'missing' bit. The rest made its way into the bin: not even the compost heap merited its presence.

Success - So Far Anyway

In August I posted about the Transocean Winner an oil rig that had run aground on the West Coast of Lewis. It was re-floated a while ago and towed round into Broad Bay.

Yesterday she was floated onto Hawk. Hawk is a very large heavy lift ship which can be ballasted down so that huge things to be transported can be floated onto her carrying platform. She then is discharged of ballast and carries her cargo. In this case the plan is for the rig to be carried to Turkey to be broken up.

The number of vessels involved in the operation was considerable:

 

The story in pictures:

Oops. Grounded.

Hawk: heavy transport ship

As Hawk tales on ballast the cargo deck drops below the water

The support vessels all in place for the floatover

The situation (hopefully) explained

The oil rig on the deck of Hawk after she has de-ballasted

Closeup

Scale

Visitors

Last Monday visitors from The US (and Blogland) arrived. We'd never met. We'd never spoken. In fact we'd only shared a few emails. Mrs Slapthing aka Marcheline aka my brother Scriptor Senex's Friend-uber-special together with her Mum and Hubby were 'doing Scotland' and ended up with me on Lewis for 22 hours: 22 absolutely wonderful, zany, experience-filled hours (brief sleep time excepted) before they continued on their merry way to see Harris before they got the (very) early ferry to Skye from Tarbert. The rest of my day after they left was very flat indeed.

Marcheline was very keen to re-visit the Callanish Standing Stones which she had visited many years ago before she was married. They drove to my home from the ferry and, after briefly settling in, we set off for lunch at The Woodlands and then Callanish.

Photographing the photographer

It was as if Marcheline just couldn't stop laughing. Mind you with the strong wind I had the advantage (I was wearing a well anchored hat and, in any case, I don't have much hair to be blown around).

Then we went to see The Broch at Dun Carloway.

The angle and the lens I used made the broch look much squatter than it really is.

Smile please

We then went via the Garenin Black House Village to Dalmore where the oil rig had been stranded a few weeks ago. It seemed impossible to believe that the quiet bay had been such a hive of activity and national interest then.

An impressed and happy Marcheline's Mum.

Relaxed and happy.

It's definitely a stone!

Then home and dinner and an evening of laughter and conversation; the sharing of information and experiences of four people who have never met before and who have so many years of experience to share.

What struck me very forcibly though was just how at home my visitors were from the moment they stepped through the front door. I am always delighted when people make themselves at home at Tigh na Mara and this was instant 'at homeness'.

The laughter stopped briefly whilst we all slept and then continued during 'breakfast' which went on for several hours.

One thing I have found is a fellow human who who can start three consecutive sentences without finishing any of them and who, instinctively, started finishing my sentences almost as soon as we met. People who know me well will understand the last sentence only too well.