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.