I have been going through some old photos, amazing what memories do to you! Many prints we have from the past are now beginning to lose their colour. Some are quite good, others appallingly faded, many feature long forgotten places and people.
This one features Cheeky. He appeared on the scene many years ago when my brother-in-law brought him home from the car plant (lorries and tractors actually). So the cat, called 'Cheeky,' is half factory and half Persian. The kids were young then and it turned out too young for the kitten. One had just begun school and the other soon to follow, so what to do? Dump it on Gran! Time passed and soon only Gran and I were in the house, the cat had taken over and we knew how to obey.
It became a ritual for one or other of us to lie asleep until around half past one in the morning when a paw was thumped gently against our face. The chosen one would find themself lying on their side with a cat on top of them informing them that they had to rise immediately.
So, it was out the front door, down the stairs (we lived in a 'Stair.' That is a block of flats four high called a 'Stair.'), we went to the back door, into the alcove and would then stand freezing while the cat stared into the blackness (being Edinburgh it would be black). Eventually, the cat would stop finding enemies while scrutinizing the darkness and hasten around the building. I would then shut the back door, go to the main door, open it while a black furry being came in, turned around and once again peer anxiously into the void. Satisfied he would turn around and hasten upstairs leaving me behind while I shut the main door, then the front door, returned to bed and attempted sleep with the brute once again lying on top of me, huffy every time I moved.
It is however, dangerous to upset a cat.
On my way to Bournemouth the train passes through Southampton, I regularly took note of this long abandoned ship which lay slowly disappearing into the waters. I watched it for some years, catching this fleeting glimpse as the train hurtled towards the station there. It is normal for people to dump their boats way upstream and leave them to rot in British waters. I suspect it happens elsewhere also. This avoids the charges for shipbreaking and offers a romantic view of these and other vessels.
The romance comes from wondering when she was launched, who took control, how far did she venture, and was there and excitement to report? Sadly I am unable to discover this, maybe there is a log somewhere that tells us of these histories, maybe it is better to forget them?
Anyway, last time I passed this spot I could not see the boat any longer. It is possible the tide was higher but I suspect the ship has now gone for ever. She will rest in peace, not much chance of another passing this way, and no divers will enter the mucky waters to investigate I fear.
