Day 56. It would appear that the ants are beginning to
understand my routine. This morning as I went down to the river at my usual
time to wash they took advantage of my absence from camp and built a statue of
Illya Kuryakin out of sugar lumps. I know they are playing with my mind but
they shall not win
Day 57: The sun has been particularly strong today producing the
most astonishing shadows. I think the heat and the sharp contrast of light and
dark led me to drift into seeing hallucinations. Or at least I hope they were
hallucinations because if it was all real I saw Jeff Astle trying to give to
give foot and mouth to a jar of Bovril
Day 58. Another terrible night. Woken by the sound of my elbows
arguing with each other again. If they weren't essential for bending my arms I
would just get rid of them. How come I get elbows that shout at each other when
other people have funny bones.
Day 59. I have been putting off going down to the cove just in
case I would be disappointed again but today I decided to see if anything
useful has been washed ashore. I couldn't believe my eyes when I stumbled onto
the shore. There was one on the sand exactly the same as the others. I held it
to my chest and raised my eyes heavenwards in relief. I now have 52 leatherette
Radio Times covers to see me through winter.
Day 60. In an attempt to break the ghastly all encompassing
sense of loneliness I have created an invisible friend. I'm not sure I like him
Day 61. I feared as much. During the night my invisible friend
and the ants have ganged together. As a result I have an odd rash on my elbow
and my stack of leatherette Radio Times covers has been moved almost imperceptibly
nearer to the large tree. I shall not succumb to their mind games, today I
start to fight back
Day
62. Without any means of writing I can only remember each day by picking a
pebble from the beach and imagining all my memories into it. I now have sixty
two pebbles. I took a few moments today to pick up my very first stone. I sat
on the sand, closed my eyes and remembered the day I arrived here – it was a
very pebbly day. Thank god I have my memories to comfort me or I could go mad
Day 63. I was awoken in the night by the lights of a massive
ship going by. I didn't light my flare as I only have one left. I am now
kicking myself. It's bad for bruising but does get the circulation going on
these colder mornings
Day 64. Having spent all morning perfecting my impression of
Michael Shelvey I have finally realised that I don’t know who he is or what he
sounds like. That said I’m really rather good at it and it is certainly scaring
the ants when I shout, “I don’t want any more bloody beans Mother,” like I’m
sure he does. Plenty here to fill the day
Day 65. Today I have decided I will explore more of the island.
To do this I am going to have to pack provisions so I can camp overnight
somewhere. I must make sure I only take essentials so I have put the walnut
that looks like Piers Brosnan in the bag
Day 66. Lack of food and exercise has meant a drop in weight and
greater fitness and flexibility. I can now touch my nose with my big toe. Today
is the last time I do this. The toe fell off after an accident a few weeks ago
and it's beginning to smell. No sign of a boat today but there are noises.
Day 67. I awoke and found the bag I had previously packed so I
could explore the island. I am now standing on top of the cliff looking down at
the beach that has been my home for the last 67 days. It seems so small now
that I can see the vast expanse of land and the wonderful discoveries that
await me. My heart is almost bursting with excitement and my muscles tremble
with expectation. Wait a minute, 6+7=13. I think I'll explore tomorrow when
it's not so unlucky.
Day 68. I walked for most of yesterday and slept well. I fear
that I lost my way during the morning so by mid afternoon I was back at my
beach. Today I shall aim for the big hill I can see and not deviate until I am
there. It is clear that others have lived here by the things I saw dropped and lost.
I wonder what happened to them? Did they die here? Is that what awaits me?
Day 69. From the brow of the big hill I can see a new bay. I
have spent 68 days on my small beach struggling to live. This new bay offers
much more opportunity. There seems to be a regular ferry, shops, an arcade and
a lot of old people stood up in bus shelters. It must be how they bury their
dead here on the Isle of Wight. I feel more desolate than ever
Day 70. I stumbled down the hill and back into civilisation.
Suddenly being faced by people after 69 days on my own created the strangest
panics and confusions. I found I had to run away from their stares and rushed
into an amusement arcade. The flashing lights were strangely hypnotic and my
eyes were drawn to a coin on the floor. Placing it into a slot I moved the
grabber forward and to the side and released it to drop over the head of the
little model of Elsie Tanner
Days 71, 72 & 73. I have been unable to find the words
to express what has happened and so I have not left any entries on the stones.
The chance of a circus train derailing must be tiny and the chances of tigers
getting loose even more so. Never have I seen such carnage. I am now the only
one left and once again find myself alone. I have taken a room in one of the
hotels for safety. Not the really nice hotel though as I doubt I could afford
it
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