Stargazing

In about 1975 I was briefly in hospital in Truro and there I met a lighthouse keeper. His light was somewhere off Lands End – I don’t recall exactly where but I asked him a lot of questions and was sad to hear all lights were to be automated. I would have liked to think that one day I might have done the job myself but the days of lighthouse keepers were coming to an end.

It was for this reason that I recently read Stargazing by Peter Hill (available on Kindle). He worked on three Scottish lights as far out as the Hebrides in that era and so, although a young man then escaping from art college, he must have been one of the last. It’s a great read. He has a very natural writing style and the book is full of anecdotes and the dreams of a young would-be writer, as well as full details of life on a lighthouse and the workings of the light which conjure up a vision of fine engineering and gleaming brass. I recommend the book.

Hidden Rooms in Secret Houses

Secret rooms, hidden behind walls,
books, red cushions and a chair,
visited in dreams, well known.

Narrowed passageways and stairs
climb above the twisted chimney stacks.
They rise like curling smoke, a spiral.

Doors that open inward lead out to
the dove cote, fountain, walls of mossy stone,
pathways, apple trees and pears.

At last I leave this house.
Beyond the gate
the island, slate and jagged rocks,

a swaying broken bridge in sighing wind,
a fragile home of glass and salted timber.
High tides beat against it, retreating in a spray.

A window cracks. I am not afraid.
The lighthouse calls out through the fog,
receding echoes that return again,

a sound that swings around the bay.
In dreams, when I am swept away,
the waiting house remains.