you would sleep. And so it would go on, seven days a week. The longest I kept up such a regime was eight weeks without a break and I can tell you I was ready for a pint of export and a ‘nippy sweetie’ when I eventually hit the high-life in Girvan.
We were kept pretty busy. I never did complete many haikus or watercolours. The light had to be wound up like a giant grandfather clock every thirty minutes. Every twenty minutes we checked the air pressure to the paraffin and if necessary pumped it up. This was a subtle ruse to keep us awake and alert, as was the little hammer that banged away on the brass every second through the night – for a lighthouse is nothing if not the most phallic clock in the world. At the highest level the light itself burned and the giant mirrors, the reflectors, turned like a slow-motion merry-go-round supported on a huge bath of mercury. To light the paraffin one had to cause a mini explosion within the light room, allowing a small cloud of paraffin vapour to form in the air, tucking one’s face under ones arm for protection while igniting the gas with a burning taper.
Duncan explained that many lighthouses still used paraffin as their source of illumination because the beam was stronger and travelled a greater distance. Increasingly, new forms of electric light were being introduced into the service.
The most magical moments happened when we changed watches. There was an unwritten rule that the keeper about to head off for bed would stay up for an extra half an hour and engage in conversation with his colleague in order to help him stay awake. A large pot of tea would have already been prepared along with a plate of digestive biscuits and cheddar cheese. It was at these times that I really got to know my fellow keepers. One person would be consumed with tiredness, the other trying desperately to shake off his dreams. Magritte would have loved it. It was at that hour in the morning with the wind whistling like a devil outside that I would hear the tales of lighthouse murders and suicides. After bridges, lighthouses are a favourite spot for those who want to take a header from a great height.
Isolation affects people in different ways, and island life can be utterly surreal.
But I’m getting ahead of myself. At this point all these adventures were up ahead and I had still to work through a complete watch.
‘Come on, laddie,’ Duncan said, looking up at the grandfather clock. ‘It’s time to light the light.’
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