Thursday, 15 May 2014


I drifted.
It had been days.
Weeks even.
Not so much a a kitten's sneeze of wind. The water looked frozen it was so still. My little boat, shallow and leaky. Planks crumbling and creaky. Water tricking though the gaps, snaking along the joins and pooling around my red, raw feet.
The sun was up there somewhere in the dreaded brightness. I needed a hat. And a coast line. And an idea.
I'd left behind such things on this voyage. Vikings. Giant crabs. Some kind of enormous electric eel that had sunk a vast iron ship, crushing and burning it beneath its shimmering green coils.
Exciting stuff.
But now I drifted.
I wasn't alone. I saw other boats drifting. Sometimes a wave from the red skinned skipper. Sometimes I'd see them sink beneath the cloying water.
And on the horizon, clouds; a coast; the promise of things to come.
I drift on.
And while I wait, I fish.