The Fallen~Sparrow~Hawk; White settlers

White Settlers                                             March 3, 2002

“ ‘White Settlers’ that’s what they call us ‘round here”. Said Roy, in his Bradford accent.

“I’m glad I’m not white”, I hastily replied.

Though I am not white, being half Caribbean; Dominica, and quarter English and quarter Irish. I was born in England; I didn’t like the idea that I might be the target of xenophobia. Friday brought the news of the Scottish National Liberation Party’s attempt to poison Number 10 and a Scottish minister by sending caustic soda disguised as eucalyptus massage oil. This, to discourage southerners from moving north of the border. The xenophobic feelings are more pronounced the further into the Highlands one goes.

The area around Whithorn and Port William, basically, Wigtownshire, is full of inbreds. This is hearsay from Roy and he may be Margaret Mead-ing me.

Laird means landowner as opposed to feudal Lord and pertains to those owning estates in the Scotland.

The Fallen-Sparrow-Hawk; Barefoot and Pregnant

Barefoot and Pregnant                                          March 2, 2002

The Scottish National Party has, according to Radio 4, sent toxic packages to 10 Downing Street and other packages are in circulation.

Alison believes Maddys’ energy dispersal, i.e., last minute decision to have a child in the woods, go to Glasgow, have boyfriend disappear to Ireland on another Curagh building mission, during this crucial period, build a bender in an inaccessible part of the woods- all this is a sign of fear. Alison pointed out that she, Maddy, had said she never expected to become a mother. Now, at forty, she, her ego, has to take a back seat. Maddy is very much the actress/performer energy which tends to have an unrealistic outlook on life. At forty, one sets into a selfish way of being. It is advisable to have a few words with Tristan in order to make him aware of the situation. He seems nice and I know, being born year of the dog he will passively acquiesce to whatever she says, but there needs, maybe, to be a take-over point.

The Fallen~Sparrow~Hawk; The mortal mirror

The Mortal mirror                                                                 March 1, 2002

Today a light aircraft was doing loops and dives. At one point, it climbed high in the sky then dipped its’ nose earthward and in, in mid-dive, the engine cut, stalled. For a moment, standing below, I watched and waited for an imminent crash. Just before the plane was to disappear beyond the skyline, the engine started up again and the plane swooped up into the sky again. I applauded.

Alison said I mustn’t say too much to Roy. “Never use the word ‘living’ at the Doon, always say ‘staying’ ”.  There not being permission for permanent dwellings on the land. Alison’s’ words of warning reminded me of the matriarchal character played by Tilda Swinton in the film of The Beach by Alex Garland; the secrecy aspect of the hidden beach. Alison said Maddy should contact her before contacting the midwives in case she blurted out that she had come to the UK because French midwives refused an outdoor birth. Alison doesn’t want the impression given that people will turn up on a regular basis from across Europe to “drop a sprog” in the woods.

Maddy and Tristan have gone to collect some belongings somewhere near Glasgow. She apparently has an old bender nearby... I personally think she is cutting it fine. She doesn’t have the energy and she wants a bender built and by Tristan and all kinds of heavy stuff lugged up to the site of her birthing home. She, Maddy, has offered me the bender once she has had the baby.

That’s okay, but it comes with the condition I help build it and lug stuff up. I don’t know if I want to get involved in the intimacy of building a dwelling for a man and a woman to have a child; becoming involved in the drama of it all and then being shut outside and left alone at the end of it; I’m kind of going through that at the moment with Mark. The location of the bender isn’t an incentive either, though the building of a good bender is. I’ll get equipment etc, it will probably involve a couple of days lugging and building and that’s it; I’ll go to Glasgow to minimise contact. I don’t think Tristan should go away. I’ll tell him that. I don’t want to feel responsible for the well-being of a child; I don’t drive and I don’t want to run the risk of something going wrong. Discuss.

The Fallen~Sparrow~Hawk; Redux Bath

Redux Bath                                                             February 29, 2002

You come across the incongruous sight on the way, Jerry can in hand, to the stream. There, with sloping trees as proscenium arch and the woods around as backdrop, stands, beneath a washing line, a bath. It is a white bath, the kind you naturally expect to find surrounded by four walls; but, no, it is in full view of the sky in a grove.

The bath is perched and supported beneath its legs by rocks. Between the rocks there is the sign of burnt wood, denoting a fire having been built directly underneath the tub. A long hose-pipe runs from the bath out into the woods, through marsh towards the stream where it has been lodged in a brook that feeds it. Apparently building a fire beneath a bath of spring water is very effective and after a short while one is ready, out of sight of any dwelling, in full privacy of trees, birds and the odd deer, to lean back and luxuriate while the steam swirls and dances like an Icelandic hot spring bath.

So incongruous was the position of the household object that deer wander right by unsuspecting and if one keeps absolutely still the bather is able to observe the normally shy animal chewing at buds. The only disadvantage, or trouble with paradise, is that the metal the bath is made of is prone to overheating, so it is advisable to lay a quilt in the bath to pad it out as it were. This has the effect of preventing the bather from scalding his or herself.

In fact, I must have a go. I have been very non-committal. I must try out a bender; Maybe Jenny’s’ for a couple of days; at night, at least. Then I must have a bath. I am going to try that tomorrow. Sunday papers wouldn’t go amiss.

Flora Stewart owns the land here and around; running 8 farmsteads. Apparently, she is a quiet woman living alone in the castle. It is turreted. She has a cousin, Jonny Dumfries, a former racing driver, who, when he inherited his estates, evicted all of his tenants and sold the land!

The Fallen~Sparrow~Hawk; Beached-Whales and Basking

Beached Whales and Basking Sharks                                           February 28, 2002

At Brett and Alison’s’ we went through the pros and cons of Maddy giving birth, regarding where she will set up her bender. Alison talked about the distance the mid-wives are prepared to walk in order not to compromise her life should something go wrong. Maddy would ideally like to give birth without the help of the midwives. She has come a month before she is due with the intention of building a temporary dwelling to give birth in nature, naturally. She is slightly obdurate and it is hoped that her stubbornness doesn’t compromise hers’ or the baby’s life. It is hard to intervene, as a man; childbirth having been taken out of the skill of midwifery over the centuries, women who seek out this kind of environment want to explore the beauty of childbirth rather than have it sanitised. I have volunteered to guide the midwives up to the bender should she break water at night.

We drank a lovely Bramble Wine at Alison’s.

The next day, Wednesday, I went over the moors with Jenny to collect coal for an old man called Roy. For collecting coal and keeping him company for an hour or so we get forty pounds which we put in the co-op account. He, Roy, isn’t as old as I had imagined. His house is a conventional wall-to-wall-carpet- coloured-TV abode. The TV was on constantly which made me feel for an instant like running back to the Doon. Roy’s house is in the middle of nowhere. From every window I peered through I saw unadulterated landscape. I think he has a well and his coal fire heats the water and general heating. Roy was reading a Ladybird book on fish and was pointing out the Basking Shark which inhabits the west of Ireland and Scotland. Apparently one can weigh three tons and measure forty feet, and one recently rammed a steam ship causing it to sink; I must read Moby Dick. I thought of the title Beached Whales and Basking Sharks, for a story. Roy’s story set the sea at closer proximity; Roy used to go out fishing. I remember a story about Glen Colum-Cil, Donegal, Ireland, in which a ship floundered in the bay and the amount of people lost. The guy with the beard, the only survivor, had his beard trimmed for charity, he had taken to drink because of survivor guilt. These stories about the sea bring it in close to the scenery.

I’m to go over and see Roy today. I suppose that’ll give me a good stiff walk and it’s not too rainy.

Jenny is going away today to see her son Cormac and his father Wack.

Today we tried to connect the batteries, but the wire was too thin. We had trouble finding the fuses a certain Anton sent down- in fact we didn’t find them.

Peach wine was had at Roy’s’. He did a course in fermentation. The process takes 6 weeks but is better in percentage and taste after a longer period. Roy tucks in as soon as he can. Alison thinks that rather than being old, it is the constant wine, coffee and fag smoking routine which gives him the pallor of an old lung. Must wash up, chop wood, and see Roy.