A new place means a new ecosystem, and new flora. I have absolutely no idea what these babies (they are about the height of my hand) will grow into — cacti perhaps, but that’s just a guess. I don’t have a garden here as such; these are growing at the top of the rocky bank at the back of my house, that currently marks one of the limits of my world. But they’re something cute to look at, all the same.
Sunshine has actually been at a premium thus far, and I’ve been waiting to give you more of the panorama from my place of incarceration until the light gets better. But a burst of it after lunch did today illuminate the distant Ladder Hill. So named as it is the top of Jacob’s Ladder, visible heading down to the right — an infamous 700-step climb up from Jamestown below. People run up this for fun, so I’ve been told. Rest assured that once I get out of here, I shall not be joining them.
Four (or, if you count like the St Helena Government, three) days into quarantine and I already have enemies — namely these little ants that seem able to get into sealed boxes and packets of food, march across my ceiling (as here) in regimented lines, turn up anywhere and everywhere. They’re irritating rather than harmful but I am still on a war of extermination. It gives me something to do, anyway,
I reckon there are five or six decent shots available that between them will encompass the view from my place of quarantine. This is the left-hand-most of them all, if you see what I mean. We are here looking west; while not very apparent on this shot, on the top of the hill is an old fort, dating from the 18th century. To the right (north), a spectacular view over Jamestown to the ocean, but you can see that another day.
While I do resent having to spend time in quarantine, particularly as I was tested not only before I flew, but at the airport, and came up (inevitably) negative both times — I accept there are worse places to do time.
I’m in quarantine, meaning I know that for another week, I can photograph only what is within, or seen from, the house I occupy. It’s a very nice house, with a superb view, but still, I have pretty much already worked out what shots might be worth trying, and will just have to pick my way through them, in a kind of drip-feed way. For a start, I am not putting up the view just yet, because today was cloudy, and there’s no sense blowing that one until the light is at its best.
Therefore, we’ll start today with some of the local fauna. My talents as a naturalist are not great but I’m 99% sure these are mynah birds — if they’re not, they’re doing a damn good impression of them. The one on the right fluffs himself up dramatically, as they check out the new human on the block.
Is this working? Hmmm, seems to be.
OK then, I am successfully online on one of the world’s most remote islands, 1,200 miles from the nearest other land. The landing — on a bare airstrip perched on top of piles of volcanic cinder — was not as rough as I’d been led to believe it might be. Ten days of quarantine await, however; you and I both will have plenty of opportunities to inspect my accommodation between now and my release on Friday 19th.
My first stop on the journey today was York, and here is its fine-looking railway station. I upload this while sat in Stansted Airport terminal along with a handful of other people, and no places of refreshment open. So there’ll be nothing more to picture today before the flight leaves just after midnight. I’ll see you in quarantine, somewhere in the South Atlantic.
I was all packed and ready to go on my Atlatnic journey on schedule. But with a 24-hour flight delay to sit through first, the mild irony of this bus, the latest (irrelevant) ‘rail replacement’, did occur to me.
I’m off tomorrow though. My Internet connection will be unpredictable until the end of November, so for the next three weeks I’ll upload when I can.
This was supposed to be my last full day here before travelling, but bad weather has meant my flight being postponed 24 hours. That probably means bad weather in St Helena, but my experience outdoors in Yorkshire today suggests the conditions might spread up the whole of the Atlantic, frankly — this afternoon was dreadful, with rain and high winds.
None of which stopped 23 (including the referee) madmen in shorts competing this afternoon in division 2 of the Halifax and District Football League — or me (and about five other people) choosing to watch them. Here at Warley Rangers you are only fifteen promotions, and a few ground improvements, from the Premier League, so it still matters.
This is Wainhouse Tower‘s second appearance on the blog — the world’s tallest folly, dontcha know.
I am aware that this is an extremely dull photo but sometimes putting up a really dull one is the only way of epitomising the day. The whole Covid testing racket is just such classic 21st century: the private sector creams off cash from us all based on claims that it’s the only way forward, there is no alternative, no dissent to be had. I pay £75 to be told I don’t have a virus that a) I’ve already had b) I’ve (twice) been vaccinated against c) I have no symptoms of. And before 8am, too.
Still, at least I have been given my official “UNINFECTED!” bar code, stamp on my forehead, tattoo, whatever. So I’m off to St Helena — a day later than originally planned, but I will be there from Tuesday. And then sat in quarantine for 10 more days, but that’s a whole other story that is still to come.
Being 42 