David Gates - Islands in the Sky

ISLANDS IN THE
SKY

David Gates

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2013 by David Gates. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 09/05/2013

ISBN: 978-1-4918-0033-1 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4918-0034-8 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4918-0035-5 (e)

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Contents

Cover picture was taken by the author and is of South Jason Island from Elephant Jason Island, December 1969

The fact that this book was written at all is purely down to drink. For many years I had regaled friends and acquaintances with anecdotes of my time in the Falklands, nearly always in pubs and with several pints in my belly. One or two remarked that I really should put the stories down on paper because they were unusual and sometimes funny. To mollify these friends I always said that one day I would and promptly dismissed the thought. This wasnt because I didnt want to; rather it was because I didnt have the self confidence to believe I could ever write something that would be remotely worth reading.

That is, until a old friend of mine, Rob Gibson, a journalist, got so fed up with asking me that he offered to help me with it. He, like me, had had a few and was so insistent that I promised absolutely that, yes, this time I really would get down and write my story. So you see, the whole thing was, indeed, down to drink. Without that little demon, Im sure Rob wouldnt have made such a foolish offer and nor would I have made such a foolish promise.

John Badger Bailey, who belies his somewhat befuddled looks by having a keen intellect, also kept bullying (I resisted the urge to say badgering) me to do the same. He, too, read the manuscript through and Im sure his comments would have been very helpful, except that his wife, in an excess of zeal, tidied the thing away to God knows where. As I type this, it still hasnt been unearthed. Still, after a pint or two, he told me what he could remember of his critique.

Therefore, the first of my thanks must go to the makers of real ale, closely followed by my friends, Rob and John. The three combined made powerful allies, a force I was unable to resist. I am eternally grateful to all of them.

Also, several words of thanks must be directed toward the partners and staff of RPG Crouch Chapman, a firm of accountants in the City of London, who gave me a desk, computer, help and unlimited supplies of coffee whilst I was writing the book and trying to rebuild a shattered business. I know I caused a couple of the secretaries to have the shivering heebee-jeebees when they witnessed my two-fingered, tortuous typing.

This book deals with the three years I spent in those remote, windswept and fascinating islands, the Falklands. Having said that, it is not a travel book. Nor is it a book about nature or geography, although nature abounds there and geography sets the scene. So, if your interests lie in that direction, put down the book now because you will be disappointed.

Of course, having to write about how it was I came to go there, stay for three years and then find my way home must, of necessity include travel, geography and nature but it does so only insofar as it impacted upon me. It is a narrow story.

The tale is of a very naive and gullible young man who, almost by accident, found himself in a place far removed from anything he had imagined himself ever to be in. He had been fired with wanderlust by, first of all, his fathers stories of the places he was forced to go to by the army in the Second World War and Korea, and then by his insatiable reading of books about the rest of the planet. Chief among these was A Pattern of Islands, by Arthur Grimble (great name!), a truly wonderful little book.

You may well think that the title of this book was inspired by his title but it wasnt. The title, Islands in the Sky, didnt come to me until I wrote the second-to-last chapter which has the same name. The reason it was so called will be obvious. However, I am delighted to have, fortuitously, been able to pay a little homage to that lovely book.

Once started, I found writing the book relatively easy. After all, all that was required of me was to remember people, places and events from forty-five years ago. The greatest difficulty I had was with names. I have always had that problem. So, if anyone recognises themselves but Ive given them a different name, Im sorry. Some may recognise themselves and be grateful for the fact. Sometimes, it was deliberate.

Essentially, the story is set out as a series of anecdotes about events that happened to and around me and, as these are largely based in places and I was constantly on the move round a circuit, the chronology may be a bit confusing. To be perfectly honest, I sometimes was unsure of the exact timing of some of the events in relation to others and so decided not to worry too much about getting them in perfect order. I hope this does not spoil your enjoyment.

My time in the Falklands shaped me and helped make me what I became. They were an education and a severe test and I would be less than honest if I tried to pretend that everything was a bed of roses for me while I was there.

Having said that, I came away from them grateful for what they had taught me about the world in general and myself in particular. So, my final vote of thanks goes to the people I met there, many of whom showed me great kindness and forebearance, and to the place itself. It is unique.

This is the map I sent home to my family after I had been on the islands for a few weeks. It shows all the flights I had taken, most of which were during the two days invigilating the local elections. My mother had it framed and hung in the house.

GETTING THERE

Leaving

It was the milkmans fault.

Well, not entirely but to a large extent, anyhow. One Saturday in the month of September 1967 I opened the door to John, whod been our milkman for donkeys year, to pay the weekly bill and in answer to his cheery, What you up to these days, Dave? for want of something better to say, I replied, Im thinking of applying for a job as a teacher in The Falkland Islands.

Thats a great idea, mate. I was posted up to the Scottish Isles in the woah. Luuuvly people. Ad a bloody wonderful time. If you get offered the job, you take the bugger. Youll really enjoy it.

So that was it settled then; I was going to apply for a job in the Scottish Islands to be a teacher, a job for which I was eminently qualified, having the necessary 5 O Levels and being single, male and naive.

Thats how my life had always been decided up to then. I dont think I had ever made an important decision of my own volition. Like when I left school three years earlier. I had failed to get through The Officers and Aircrew selection process at Biggin Hill just before leaving school when their medical team discovered the hole in my left eardrum which I knew nothing about. All those painful earaches and disgusting, smelly emmissions after going swimming and it had never occurred to me or anyone else that there might be a problem actually with the ear itself.