15th December 2001
If I was to say here that I’m bored, it would sound like the sort of flippant remark that people say after doing a monotonous task for 5 minutes or so. After peeling two potatoes and still being faced with another pan full we say we are bored. After waiting in a doctor’s waiting room for 10 minutes beyond our appointment slot we are bored. I could go on but quite frankly the list would be, well, boring.
After 59 days of sleeping-working-eating – (repeating), to say that I am bored wouldn’t do it any justice whatsoever. And to think I’m only half way through my trip is soul destroying. I’m feeling pretty low to be honest, and struggling to find any positives in all of this.
I’ve been trying to cheer myself up with the last of my chocolate – a mini Twix. As I opened it the light caught in the foil wrapper and it looked like the reflection of a Christmas tree all lit up. I cut it into tiny slithers and stuck them to a bit of parcel tape. Tinsel. Twinsel. Twixsel. My Christmas decoration. I’ve stuck it next to my bunk like a wizened and shrivelled memory of Christmas. I wonder about my sanity.
I wish I were at home with the tree reflecting in the TV screen. The pre-Christmas hype and TV adverts full of kids toys and Christmas films. Dinner on my lap, something normal, like a pasty with sugary tea. The prospect of Christmas with my family and friends.
I began a short story. I enjoyed escaping into it for a while. Writing is a refuge but this will make dull reading.
The letters which I’d hoped to send home with the ship returning to Portugal are still here in my desk. We never did meet up with that ship again and it left last night and is now on it’s way home for Christmas.
15th December 2017
I got pretty depressed at around this point of my trip. One of the hardest things about being at sea is not the bad food, the boredom, the loneliness, the conditions or the danger – it’s your own state of mind.