My Sailor Comes Home From The Sea

John has been away for the last few days sailing across the English Channel with his eldest daughter and his brother, David. It is his second trip across the Channel this summer as he helped David sail his boat over to Guernsey when I went home to the US in July for a visit.

Even though I was back in Cornwall and could have gone with him when he left for the return last Thursday, I opted to stay home and get some down time before my sister Margaret arrives on Friday. Okay, I did have a coffee catch up with Tina after my run one morning and a lovely girls night out dinner with Jean and Helen, two local ladies from the village who are killer quiz players. Plus, I spent some time picking berries and making my very first blackberry jam which John loved, but I am still not too sure about so although I was pretty busy, I did keep a fairly relaxed schedule here on my own.

John came back late yesterday having jumped ship at a port close enough to catch the train to within five miles of home. It turns out he was only home for one night as we are driving to meet up with the boat in nearby Fowey in a little while where he will rejoin David along with his daughter to sail the boat on to Falmouth in the morning. I am once again passing on the sailing experience. It’s not that I don’t enjoy sailing because I do, but I dislike being in a small space with other people for most overnight experiences. This was definitely an issue during my time in the army and one I am glad I have some control over now.

I have such empathy for the 33 miners in Chile who are “2700 feet underground in a space the side of a large living room.” If it were me, I would be eating those antidepressants they’re sending down by the fistful and to top it all off some of those poor men have to lose weight to even fit through the two foot wide exit tunnel. Gracious! I cannot imagine the nightmares they must be having. I wonder what I would do to make it through the four months they say it might take to reach them. Can you imagine it … four months underground, limited contact with the outside world, and the stress of such a small space. I want to hear their stories when they reach the surface … don’t you.