Island Hideaway 20 - No Man is An Island (Except me)​​

Nobody came to visit me after I'd moved to the island. ​​​

​​​For one thing it was hard to find. The island isn't on any maps. One of the previous owners, a Viscount of somewhere or other, had been Minister of War and planned to use the island as a secret military training ground. He considered it perfect for practicing invading isolated, defenceless islands, a key element of Britain's colonial plans, and had consequently banned cartographers from including it on any maps or in any way acknowledging its existence. However, before he could implement his plans he lost the island in a card game.​​​

​​​Sailors knew of its existence of course, but officially the island was inhabited solely by gannets, badly-behaved gannets who were no fun to be with. ​​​

​​​Of course the boat came every day when the gods allowed (not Sundays) so I invited my friends. My brother had moved to New Zealand and showed no interest in visiting.​​ I'd not heard from Mo since she left Swansea. She'd gone to work for one of the megacorporations, one of the fast track apprentice roles they hand out to people without souls or scruples. I could well understand her cutting me off, I didn't fit with people in those sorts of roles, what I didn't understand was her taking the job in the first place.​​​

​​​Eddie had moved to London to 'become an activist', though from what I could tell he was working in a bar. We spoke on the phone, emailed and wrote letters (this is a history book I'm writing you understand) but our oft discussed plans to meet up never came to fruition. ​​​

​​​Other friends arranged to come then dropped out at the last moment. I had nothing to offer them, a long, arduous journey to a one-man island, lacking social life, culture, and just the basic amenities. I had made myself a Robinson Crusoe and nobody wanted to be my Man Friday.​​​

​​​I had invitations to go and visit my friends, but money was the problem. Making the island habitable was taking every penny I earnt, the electronics along cost me nine months' earnings. The whole house had to be stripped of its innards and put back together. By this time my friends had splattered across the mainland. I had no car, and rail fare was prohibitively expensive. Of course I could get cheaper fares if I booked months in advance, but my friends unreliability put me off.​ I could easily lose everything I had playing the friendship futures market in this way. ​​

​​​I visited the mainland a few times in the early months on shopping expeditions, catching the morning boat and returning in the evening. I even booked a hotel one time and stayed out all night, but it was a depressing evening, I didn't know anyone in the town, and the nightlife consisted of a couple of quiet pubs. I sat in a corner supping pints, talking to no-one and wondering what the hell I was doing there. ​​​

​​​After a while I stopped visiting the mainland altogether, The Boatman brought me anything I needed and the invention of online shopping meant that I could get anything I wanted without ever leaving the island. ​​​

​​​xxx​​​

​​​It takes a long time to turn around an overgrown island with a decrepit house, especially when there is only one of you. You're fighting nature itself and nature is a mighty opponent, every bush you've hacked back and weed you’ve pulled up will grow back in a twinkling. The plants you plant, on the other hand, are stubbornly resistant to life, at times it felt like I was trying to fell a mammoth with a pea shooter. At other times if felt like was trying to fell a mammoth with a pea shooter and down to my last pea.​​​

​​​Of course, during the Great Rebuilding I wasn't alone. I had two electricians commuting here every day for months, Simon and Raj. They were good company, I'd make them breakfast and coffee and we'd chat before they started work, likewise lunch, and after work, while they were waiting for the evening boat back to the mainland, I'd crack open a few beers and we'd talk some more. They were impressed by what I was doing, renovating an entire island and making a living by writing. It turns out they both subscribed to an electricians monthly magazine I often wrote for. I promised to do a piece on carrying out electrical work on isolated islands. ​​​

​​​The plasterer, Dave, barely spoke to me, he clearly couldn't get his head around what I was doing here. He was a party animal, born to socialise, he didn't belong on an island like mine, to him my life made no sense, it was like trying to dress a chicken in pantyhose.​​​

​​​It took a year altogether, what with one thing and another, I had to borrow some of the money, though it didn't take long to pay back. I left it a couple of years before getting the kitchen and bathroom done, which meant more months of chaos, but eventually it was all done, I was living in a modernised, repaired, functioning, clean, decorated house. Which meant silence. Nothing. No teams of workmen bustling, banging, shouting and laughing, demanding tea and commenting on the weather and the government, both bloody useless. I was living all alone on an isolated island which I never left and which nobody ever visited.​​​