Farewell from Raw Paua and the Land Under Down Under.
by Owen James Burke
Live Dinner and Raw Paua. Photo: Pauline Nobels. Courtesy of Owen James Burke.
As the crew of the good ship Scuttlefish sets sail for new horizons, Raw Paua and I have but a handful of weeks left to spend in this fine South Sea summer. We’re not quite sure where we’ll roam, but it’s safe to say we won’t trudge too far from the sea or her foam.
Over Christmas, I had planned to replace a couple of Raw Paua’s walls, which had seen better days. Well, a couple of far more competent friends jumped in, one thing led to the next, and dangerous, short-circuited mystifications like this soon revealed themselves. Photo: Owen James Burke.
How’d you spend Christmas Eve? Photo: Owen James Burke.
Real men drink gutter oil. I don’t know how many shots of espresso it took, but you might chance a guess judging by the tarry resin-caked pot. Photo: Owen James Burke.
But it all paid off. New, marine-grade 6mm-ply walls and ceiling, a healthy dose of silicon and a Burmese flag, er, ensign, if you will. Photo: Owen James Burke.
The workshop, the garage, the kitchen, and the cabin all in one, adorned with memories of South Sea adventures. Photo: Owen James Burke.
Photo: Pauline Nobels. Courtesy of Owen James Burke.
It’s hard to say where I’ll end up, and as for Raw Paua, bless her heart, she’ll soon be wearing for sale signs on her rails and stern. But, before that mournful moment arrives, I wanted to sign off with a hearty thanks to Briam Lam for making my Scuttly roamings possible. And if you or anyone you know might make a good home for–or of–my dearest, most devout mobile partner in crime, drop a line.
‘It’s not the leavin’
That’s a-grievin’ me,
But my darling
Who’s bound to stay behind.’