Skipping Forward

I haven’t written in a week. I'm too tired. And my mind generally has to be empty for the words to come, otherwise it races with organising. For the past week I’ve been consumed by moving to a new city, starting a new job, and finding the best beaches to swim after work.

Nelson, home for now!

Moving between airbnbs and campsites is time consuming, as is getting to know my colleagues in the pub most evenings.

Moving, moving, moving. One place had a rabbit. Now I want to get a rabbit.

By the end of the day, sleep was all I could think of.

The exhaustion is not to say work has been bad, far from it. I’m handed power tools and asked to step on board boats and drill holes. All under scrupulous supervision of course as I’ve no idea what the tool is that I’m holding nor what it does, nor the countless ways it could kill me. My sailing background has been utterly useless and it’s been a steep learning curve, the steepest in my life so far. Riggers tend to have a background in construction, so they know the difference between a Philips and positive screwdriver. If square minus one were a place, that’s where I’d be starting. My colleagues are kind and patient with me, with a good amount of joke bullying from all sides to make a wholesome environment. I would call them my friends, not sure this goes both ways, I’m not going to ask. They are however less patient when they ask me simply to cut a given length of wire and try as I might, sitting, stamping, jumping on the cutters they do not budge an inch. My arms are weak it turns out. For the others, they only have to look at the wire and it cuts.

Also, my back hurts already.

Working as a yacht rigger