The Middle Watch

Through the darkness I strain to glimpse the tiny light, uncertain at times whether it is there or not.  I adjust the optics of the binoculars, ranging slightly up and down with the focus to see if I can get a clearer view.  It is there, I am sure it is there but then can I now see another light emerging from the gloom?

I fix my sight on the possible light as the ship rises and dips slowly, we almost tread water at 5 knots, riding the swell.  There is no noise on the bridge, no hiss of the radio, no clatter of headsets.  Voices are low and dark shapes move anonymously to check and scan indicators.

The operations room below is silent, they have not yet noticed the contact, if indeed it is there.  It is there, I am sure it is.  The crew sleep, just watchkeepers sedately making checks and watching their screens.  Electronic ears ready to alert, infrared eyes waiting for target indication.  Tasteless coffee is sipped, the clock ticks slowly onwards.

The lonely engineer shuffles along the deck, making water in the night and checking systems.  Others carefully dismantle the generator, invisibly maintaining the power.  Reminiscing over the last run ashore and planning the next.

On the upper deck in the cool warm breeze a seabird maintains a lazy station on the beam of the ship.  The air search radar sweeps slowly, purposefully around, humming as it scans the air.  The navigation radar sweeps much faster, urgently seeking contacts, yet almost noiseless.  The signal halyards make a gentle slapping noise, just to keep the beat.  The white foam breaks gently on the bow and moves, hypnotically, down the waist.

He cups his mug as he stands on the quarterdeck, following the wake of the ship.  It is long since his cigarette was finished, but he lingers and savours the peace.  With a sigh he steps back through the door, clipping it shut, he returns to his station.

The ship never sleeps, but she slumbers with poise during the middle watch.

The Wall

The eyes, defiant, steadfast and determined.  The inexperience of youth exploring the edge of the herd with the attendant risk.  I skirted closer to my target, observed in every detail.  Not an inch of ground given, no movement at all.  As I levelled to shoot my subject, I compromised my desire to capture the image with the risk to my own safety.  This was one of the two images, that until recently had adorned the wall of our entrance hall.

F8 - 1/320 - ISO 800 focal length 194mm

Mature, experienced and closer to the herd, my second target was impressive against his backdrop.  Likewise, I cautiously kept my distance to capture the image.  Both were taken at Tatton Park in Cheshire.

F8 - 1/320 sec - ISO 800 focal length 400mm

 Both images were taken with a Canon EOS 5D MkIII using a 400mm L series lens.

These images dominated the entrance hall each measuring 2 x 3 feet or 61 x 90 cm in acrylic.  

An decided that we needed to refresh the view and so we agreed a change, interestingly the wall now centres around me and tells its own story.

I could write a story behind each of these pictures and perhaps in the future I will.  For now just a taste.

The Commission from the Queen stands for my service in the Royal Navy, the trials (and boy have there been some) and adventures, not to mention the achievement of entering the service in the first place!  Most of these tend to adorn the lavatory walls, if gossip is to be believed.  For me the certificate, when it eventually arrived, spent the most part in a cardboard tube and then, when framed, being moved from place to place.  I actually believe this is the first time it has been on a wall anywhere and that is 5 years after leaving!  For me it marks the hard work, the friendships and the challenges faced down.  It also marks the fact that I am now and forever more will be part of a centuries old proud and respected organisation.

The small picture to the bottom left is a picture of Ayr in Scotland, this has a couple of memories for me in particular it was my first assignment as an Officer in the Royal Navy and my rented accommodation had a similar view to the picture from the mid 19th century.  This picture was given to me by my Auntie, who had a collection, including this one, in London.  The picture went to sea onboard HMS Ark Royal and has the velcro strips on the back, which I used to secure it in my cabin.  I had a short but exciting time in Ayr serving in HMS Gannet or planet gannet as they used to call it.

To the right of the Ayr picture is a Dali.  Dali is probably my favourite artist, followed closely perhaps by Monet.  That said I am not someone who gushes over art and the messages that are conveyed.  I cannot fully appreciate my attraction to Dali, perhaps his surrealism connects to my vivid and surreal dreams.  This particular print was purchased at his theatre museum in Figueres, to which I strongly recommend a visit.  An and I spent a very pleasant few days in Barcelona a few years back and it was a condition of mine that we visit this museum.  I was educated by An in various other art visits during the trip and in fact I blogged about the visit at the time.  Again, I would recommend Barcelona and the places we saw, it is a special place.

Moving to the Type 42 destroyer (bottom right). This is a piece of artwork bought for me by a friend and marking my service as a Naval Reservist.  The work is by Gillian Jones, who has a very successful line in these and similar works.  For me I served onboard HMS Newcastle, a Type 42 destroyer.  In this case I was a rating and experienced more than a year of life and work onboard, travelling to some interesting places and serving with some truly amazing people.  The work was hard but it was one of the best periods of my life, so many happy memories with the sea coursing through my veins as it does to this day.

The small black framed verse above the destroyer is The Blaydon Races.  This is from my home, it will always be a place I feel secure and welcome.  I am a Geordie, despite being mislabelled by fellow Geordies as I spoke with a very light accent (blame my late auntie for insisting that I use proper words and speech).  I have spent the best part of my life travelling and away from home but nothing quite feels as good as seeing the landmarks as you drive north up the A1 or pass through Durham on the train to Newcastle.  A fellow Geordie visiting my house, per chance, will find some comfort and warmth if they see this on the wall.

The centrepiece is a picture painted by my brother as a Christmas gift.  This left me speechless when I was given it last Christmas.  The quality and detail is enough in itself, but having lived and grown up in this scene, I and my family can pick out details and dive deeper into the meaning.  Indeed, friends who we grew up with will also recognise aspects of the picture.  More so, the story behind the 10 years spent there, the adventures, tears, struggle and joy.  So many stories waiting to be told with disbelief.  For me the picture represents so many things both visible and hidden.

So there we have it, our re-configured welcome, ready for the guests to come and each picture with their stories to tell.