Volume 2
In Search Of A Reason For Being - September 2007
“Well,” my computer said when I started him up this morning, "I am once again ready to be Sancho Panza to your Don Quixote. What dragon are you going to slay this time? I will follow you as your faithful squire in your search to right the un-rightable wrong.”
At first I thought he was displaying his sense of humour but then I quickly realised, when he added, “I stand ready and waiting for more of your profundity,” that he was in fact being sarcastic.
I was a little surprised. This presumably was his mocking response to my previous comments on the diversification and lack of co-ordination amongst the various bodies charged with solving our flooding problem.
If he, my closest confidante, finds reason to question the rationale behind my remarks, it may be time for me to carry out some self-examination. So here goes:
Are my views self-opinionated? Of course they are. The reader may question what appears as my sometimes over-simplistic approach to erstwhile complex problems.
Well, let me explain. Be assured that I fully respect our institutions and conventions, but they must be able to stand up to open scrutiny and examination. I think we are too much in deference of ‘authority.’ You know what I mean; that our superiors, being in possession of all the facts, must know best and who are we to question?
These ‘authorities’ resent being called upon to answer for their actions and decisions to the lay public, and are reluctant to explain, (or even discuss), their sophisticated workings to the chattering classes, or as one put it, the peasants. Yet on the rare occasions when called before their peers, for instance at public inquiries or judicial reviews, they are invariably found wanting.
Admittedly, many issues are too complicated for the public at large, but it is a dangerous concept for society to leave unquestioned matters in the hands of our superiors – ‘those who know best.’ It is important that we stimulate discussion on topics that affect our lives. If we start opting out, waiving our responsibilities, living in a state with no effective public opinion, no right of scrutiny - what price our democracy then?
Some 2500 years ago Socrates said to his young students, more or less, that ‘unquestioned deference endangers democracy.’ Unfortunately he lost his life for saying so. I, of course, will not go that far but, when those who should know better, unquestioningly accept a governing body's dictates at face value, they shouldn't be too surprised with the chaos that follows.
This therefore is my justification for my first reason for my sometimes, strong comments on current affairs. Be assured it is not intended as grandstanding. That, in any event, would be rather difficult from my armchair.
Now to the second reason. “Allan,” I said to myself at the early stages of my blindness, “don't give in. Avoid at all costs complacency and apathy.” This terrified me, scared stiff of finding myself with an idle or redundant, but otherwise, active mind.
Let me share with you a secret. With the physical loss, the debilitation is plain to see, but the psychological effect was, and still is, deeply depressing. It was a real fear, in my confused state, and I had to struggle very hard to avoid complacency - aware that the next stage would be lethargy, leading on to weariness of life.
One friend said to me recently, “Alan, to get an understanding of what you are going through, I blindfolded myself for about half an hour last week, and got some idea. It was terrible and you have my sympathy.” I thanked him and resisted telling him what was going through my mind.
Terrorists do not hood their hostages to prevent them seeing. It is done to disorient them and put them in a state of terror. I have been in that position for almost three years now, without a break, so with all respect, whilst it was gently meant, he didn't know what the devil he was talking about, and in all honesty I would not want him too. Yet, I have a deep and growing yearning to ‘tell it as it is.’
Confidence gives way to uncertainty and fear. I hear you say, “But this hasn't happened to you?” Well, you bet it has. Now I know one does not have to be blind or disabled, but this feeling can so easily creep up on any of us - even if the only affliction is old age or just retirement. The old adage ‘use it or lose it’ had to be always to the fore.
In my early months of blindness this was a very real fear - indeed it still is. I have to continue telling myself “You have lost your sight. You have not lost your reason, nor are you blind to matters of concern.” Is that my excuse for being somewhat of a voyeur? Possibly.
I would have thought my computer friend would have understood and recognised that if there were a dragon then it was the particular ‘dragon within’ that I was endeavouring to slay.
I am, by this writing, a voice in search of a reason for being.
It has been, and is, quite a struggle at times. Thank the heavens for my wife, family and friends who help me differentiate between the inevitable changes brought about by blindness and those as a result of normal retirement.
Here endeth my self-justification.
In a short space of time, less than three years, I have had to acquire new skills, disciplines and habits. My computer system, talking watch, telephones and Daisy Reader have all been a tremendous help and my colour-coder is quite useful in helping me to choose my wardrobe for the day.
With the right attitude and help one's techniques can improve daily. One of the simplest things done this year was acting on Joyce's suggestion of laying a rope from the front door down to my jetty, thus allowing me to tap my way to the shore. That simple act gave me independent access.
There are some suggestions worth mentioning; some small, but nonetheless important, for those who have lost their vision or, for that matter, even those whose memories are not what they used to be. One of them is to establish certain points or stations throughout the house designated for certain items. For instance, in my case, the mail, the reading and recording machines, and the like, have their regular places. I know where to find my talking telephones, (both mobile and cordless), and as such I can make any number of calls by speaking the person’s name, already recorded in the phone’s internal directory. I keep, in my bedroom, a colour detector device which gives me some indication what to wear. I would be lost without my talking watch. I have a tray in my place in the kitchen, which holds tissues and medication and water, which I can access without asking for help.
There are many gadgets on the market, most of them useful, some more trouble than they are worth. However, let me emphasise the importance of knowing where the articles are located. In my case, if they are not there, they are not anywhere - they are in fact nowhere. People with failing memories may find this as something of a oxymoron, but I can assure them that it is not.
You are right to ask what activities I had promised myself to engage in when I had more time but are now not possible for me.
Well at this time of year I might have been up to my waist in a fast-flowing river after a 30lb fresh running salmon with a 10lb breaking line on my fly rod.
That would be wishful thinking in these changed days. When I first fished our beat at Kinkell Bridge on the River Earn, Perthshire, the average annual catch was about 800 salmon and approximately the same number of sea trout. (They are smaller and leave the fresh water of the river spending some time in the salt water of the estuaries and coastal waters before returning). Now the annual figure is more like 80 salmon and not much more than that of sea trout.
I recall one cold October morning, on the Earn, in the early 70s, with a very strong run of salmon leaping all round me, however quite contemptuous of my fly casting. I said to the ghillie, “Tam, I have changed my flies three times but just cannot get their attention.” I can hear his reply as though it was yesterday. “Mr Fraser, sir, dinae waste yer time. It is one of those days - just think as though you were the fish. Five years ago, as a youngster, leaving home for the first time, making your way down river to the Tay estuary and out into the salt seas swimming about 1000 miles off Greenland.
During these five years at sea you have grown big, strong and smart, avoided the nets, seals, factory ships and other predators and obstacles just to get back hame to where you were born, for one reason, and one reason only, to spawn. You are a big proud fish and you do not eat in freshwater and you have waited some five years for sex. Would you stop to show interests in a collection of feathers with a hook in it - which in any event doesn't look anything like a fly? I think ye ken the answer yourself. Now sir, if I were you I wid call it a morning. Haste ye back after lunch, and in the meantime I would suggest maybe we should have a wee dram from that whisky flask I spy peeping out of your breast pocket. In the afternoon the fish will hae calmed doon a bit.”
He was right and after lunch I landed a 20lb salmon, and later, a 15lb salmon and a 7lb sea trout. Ah - memories are made from days like that. Tam was my ghillie for well over 30 years. A fine man; fond of a drop of ‘the hard stuff’, who could keep the fishing hut entertained for hours with his stories.
I miss my sailing, racing and, more particularly, cruising round the west coast of Scotland. That was my love for many years. The sailing season is coming to a close and the Holy Loch regatta was held in quite strong winds last week. I made my way via my new ropeway to the bottom of my garden, to witness as best I could, the spectacle.
Oh I could feel the strength and direction of the wind - force four or five from the South West. I knew when the boats where tacking by the noise of the sails and sheet winches, but, in truth, I found it a very frustrating experience.
I missed the feel of the tiller, the movement of the hull when the boat was beating to windward, close-hauled and pointing high, when she tacked and was on a reach with the wind on her beam, and when she jibed round the marker buoy, running freely with the wind now astern.
I am fortunate to have these visions; indeed my memories of sailing in the West Coast of Scotland and in the Mediterranean, could fill a book.
Then there was my painting. I promised myself that, at the appropriate time, I would get professional training. I never had a lesson in my life and I looked forward to the time when I could put that right. My amateurish attempts at oil painting gave me much pleasure and with professional training I would have got better. How much better I will never know.
Celtic Cross & Venice oil paintings by Allan Fraser
Whilst on the subject, the painting that formed the frontal piece of my book ‘I’m Beginning To Forget What I Look Like’ has been seen by many hundreds and much admired.
The artist, Kitty Gordon, is a graduate of RGU Gray's School Of Art, Aberdeen and now resides in Edinburgh. She grew up in Orkney and like all Orcadians, has a great love of the sea. I am told that the painting captures the spirit of the book. We haven't as yet met but it seems uncanny. Apparently Kitty had read a number of extracts of the draft book and has, according to the many who've commented, translated the meaning of the book perfectly. She has done a remarkable job.
I have the original canvas, and left to me, I would name the painting ‘A Blind Man In Search Of His Lost Horizon.’ However, I am told that is too heavy and long-winded. If any of you, having read the book and seen the painting, have thoughts of a suitable title I would be very pleased to hear from you.
I cannot free my mind from the thought that it is at this stage of age and maturity, when one looks back at all the things one could have done, things one should have done, (or done better), aware that the sands of time seem to run quicker towards the end that now is the time for some honest to goodness reflection.
Posted 28th September 2007 In Search Of A Reason For Being