volcano erupted. Jim was right again; just don’t tell him I said so, because he’s big headed enough at the best of times, without being encouraged. But so long as the lava flow keeps to the left, which it is at the moment, we should be able to avoid it. And we’re far enough away for it not to be a great problem. Not that I can go very fast, but that’s beside the point.
Haven’t written in here for so long, I can’t think of anything to say. Or a way to ruin it. Shocking, I know, but I’m out of practice. I do know a really bad beside the point joke but I’ll save it for later.
It’s not raining. And there’s no ash fall. Which is good. Not sure I fancy camping outside in the rain. Or in an ash fall either.
I see from flicking back over several pages, that Jim said my leg’s infected again. Unless we find a hospital here, and I seriously doubt we’ll find one, or a large supply of antibiotics, it’ll stay that way. That green stuff Ailsa made is pretty good, once you get over the really nasty taste.
My watch has stopped working. Guess the battery died. My leg hurts. Tired again, now. I sleep too much. Love the way Jim doesn’t think I sleep enough. Reckon he must be sleeping on watch then, because some nights I can barely keep my eyes open long enough to lie down.
Oh, as it’s later. Here’s the really bad joke. I know Jim won’t get it. But never mind.
Point. That’s.
Lou closed the book and shifted so she was lying down, watching the eruption. Lava still flew high into the air, the ground vibrating beneath her. The force of nature, destructive, but renewing itself.
Jim would insist on it being a God thing and liken it to the human soul being renewed by fire.
She wasn’t so convinced.
But that was an argument for another time.
Right now she had an erupting volcano to watch, something she wasn’t ever likely to see again in her lifetime. However short that turned out to be.
8
December 5, day 18, mid-morning, I think. Lou writing.
Yes, I still have the logbook. Not sure I want to give it back, as I’m having way too much fun illustrating it. This is eruption day 13. The lava shows no signs of slowing, yet there is still no ash, which is a good sign, as we have nowhere to hide from it.
Jim wants us to stay here until the eruption stops. I did try telling him that could be weeks, but there’s no arguing with him. So I spend my time sitting here, watching Ailsa make the green stuff, which incidentally, needs a far better name than ‘green stuff’. I shall have to come up with one. Unless it has one. Hang on a sec, and I’ll ask her.
Lou glanced up and chewed on the pen. “Ailsa, what’s this green stuff called?”
“Mytona,” she said looking over. “Why?”
“I figured we can’t keep calling it green stuff, that’s all.” She turned back to the log book and wrote.
“Any chance I can have the logbook back?” Jim asked.
She grinned. “Nope, I’m writing in it.”
“You sleep on it too,” he complained.
“You’ll live. Is that m-y-t-o-n-a?”
“Not exactly, but it’ll do.” Ailsa smiled. “How’s the leg doing?”
“Sore. When can I have more?”
“Not until this afternoon. And only if you help make lunch.”
Lou raised an eyebrow. “You want food poisoning?”
“It’s fish. Not exactly rocket science.”
She swallowed hard, not really liking fish, but there wasn’t much choice out here in the middle of nowhere. “OK, I’ll help.”
“Good. You can descale them.”
Lou rolled her eyes. “Oh, joy. I love doing that.” She closed the logbook and slid it behind her, ignoring Jim’s frown. “You can have it when I’m done and not before. Now, where are these fish?”
~*~
December 15, day 28, dawn, Jim’s entry
I finally got the logbook back from Lou. Can’t say I’m impressed by all the pictures that suddenly appeared but it’s not worth fighting over. I did that once already and can never make up for what happened as a result.
The
Haven’t written in here for so long, I can’t think of anything to say. Or a way to ruin it. Shocking, I know, but I’m out of practice. I do know a really bad beside the point joke but I’ll save it for later.
It’s not raining. And there’s no ash fall. Which is good. Not sure I fancy camping outside in the rain. Or in an ash fall either.
I see from flicking back over several pages, that Jim said my leg’s infected again. Unless we find a hospital here, and I seriously doubt we’ll find one, or a large supply of antibiotics, it’ll stay that way. That green stuff Ailsa made is pretty good, once you get over the really nasty taste.
My watch has stopped working. Guess the battery died. My leg hurts. Tired again, now. I sleep too much. Love the way Jim doesn’t think I sleep enough. Reckon he must be sleeping on watch then, because some nights I can barely keep my eyes open long enough to lie down.
Oh, as it’s later. Here’s the really bad joke. I know Jim won’t get it. But never mind.
Point. That’s.
Lou closed the book and shifted so she was lying down, watching the eruption. Lava still flew high into the air, the ground vibrating beneath her. The force of nature, destructive, but renewing itself.
Jim would insist on it being a God thing and liken it to the human soul being renewed by fire.
She wasn’t so convinced.
But that was an argument for another time.
Right now she had an erupting volcano to watch, something she wasn’t ever likely to see again in her lifetime. However short that turned out to be.
8
December 5, day 18, mid-morning, I think. Lou writing.
Yes, I still have the logbook. Not sure I want to give it back, as I’m having way too much fun illustrating it. This is eruption day 13. The lava shows no signs of slowing, yet there is still no ash, which is a good sign, as we have nowhere to hide from it.
Jim wants us to stay here until the eruption stops. I did try telling him that could be weeks, but there’s no arguing with him. So I spend my time sitting here, watching Ailsa make the green stuff, which incidentally, needs a far better name than ‘green stuff’. I shall have to come up with one. Unless it has one. Hang on a sec, and I’ll ask her.
Lou glanced up and chewed on the pen. “Ailsa, what’s this green stuff called?”
“Mytona,” she said looking over. “Why?”
“I figured we can’t keep calling it green stuff, that’s all.” She turned back to the log book and wrote.
“Any chance I can have the logbook back?” Jim asked.
She grinned. “Nope, I’m writing in it.”
“You sleep on it too,” he complained.
“You’ll live. Is that m-y-t-o-n-a?”
“Not exactly, but it’ll do.” Ailsa smiled. “How’s the leg doing?”
“Sore. When can I have more?”
“Not until this afternoon. And only if you help make lunch.”
Lou raised an eyebrow. “You want food poisoning?”
“It’s fish. Not exactly rocket science.”
She swallowed hard, not really liking fish, but there wasn’t much choice out here in the middle of nowhere. “OK, I’ll help.”
“Good. You can descale them.”
Lou rolled her eyes. “Oh, joy. I love doing that.” She closed the logbook and slid it behind her, ignoring Jim’s frown. “You can have it when I’m done and not before. Now, where are these fish?”
~*~
December 15, day 28, dawn, Jim’s entry
I finally got the logbook back from Lou. Can’t say I’m impressed by all the pictures that suddenly appeared but it’s not worth fighting over. I did that once already and can never make up for what happened as a result.
The
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