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In The Middle of The Atlantic
Jun. 23rd, 2013 09:31 pmThere is a common misconception that Bermuda is in the Caribbean, "near the Bahamas". It isn't. It's a bit of extinct volcano, shaped like a "J" that has had a bit too much to drink and which is in the process of falling forwards, in the middle of the North Atlantic Ocean. If you go due east you come close to the Azores, and if you go due west (for a significantly smaller distance) you bump into the US Atlantic seaboard around the Carolinas.
There's only three proper roads, North Road, Middle Road, and South Road -- although those names transmogrify into things like "Front Road" and "Spanish Point Road" as you head west from the airport (built, solely, I suspect, for the benefit of the cab driver economy, about as far away as you can get on a relatively small island from the major conurbation - Hamilton).
There's only one water supply - rain. The building code means that all properties have to have the same kind of roof -- one which is very efficient at trapping rainwater, cleaning it, and then channeling it into storage tanks. Bermudians claim that it never rains; all that I can say is that I suspect their reliance on it for their water supply (if the tank runs low, they have to buy it) distorts their memory. It rains about 40% of the days in Bermuda -- although often it's nothing more than a short sharp shower. Today it rained for about half an hour, then it pissed down for an hour, and then it rained for another half an hour. In Bermudian language, this is another day of "just a bit" of rain. Most, I suspect, would only find true happiness if they emigrated to Seattle, or the Western Isles.
I'm here for a conference on Tuesday and Wednesday, run by Informa for the Bermudian insurance and reinsurance industry. Greg and I alternate sitting in on the sessions and then, when a session concludes, one rushes out to write up the session, send it to London, and then rushes back in to replace the other, who then rushes out, writes up the session, and sends it to London.
Unfortunately I also still have to do my newsletter. So the alarm goes off at 3am. I crawl out of bed to write the issue -- send it out at about 5.30am (9.30am London time) and crawl back to bed for 90 minutes' sleep. For a couple of days it is all a bit hectic.
Although the rain lashed down a bit this afternoon, it didn't do much to ease the high humidity level, which I always find enervating. I made it into the swimming pool this morning, and managed 20 lengths. On the downside, they were only short lengths (12 metres is my guess), and they came in 10 x 2-length batches, with a few minutes' rest in between. But, hey, I don't think that I've done any swimming since August 2011 in Cyprus, so it'll take a while to build up stamina.
Since then it seems to have been occupied by some kids quite a lot of the time. But it should be empty again tomorrow morning.
Although my workload is higher, I avoid commuting, and I don't have to do any food preparation or all of the other stuff required when you are not in a hotel. So it's not as big a strain as it might seem. And, of course, I'm in Bermuda, not London!
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There's only three proper roads, North Road, Middle Road, and South Road -- although those names transmogrify into things like "Front Road" and "Spanish Point Road" as you head west from the airport (built, solely, I suspect, for the benefit of the cab driver economy, about as far away as you can get on a relatively small island from the major conurbation - Hamilton).
There's only one water supply - rain. The building code means that all properties have to have the same kind of roof -- one which is very efficient at trapping rainwater, cleaning it, and then channeling it into storage tanks. Bermudians claim that it never rains; all that I can say is that I suspect their reliance on it for their water supply (if the tank runs low, they have to buy it) distorts their memory. It rains about 40% of the days in Bermuda -- although often it's nothing more than a short sharp shower. Today it rained for about half an hour, then it pissed down for an hour, and then it rained for another half an hour. In Bermudian language, this is another day of "just a bit" of rain. Most, I suspect, would only find true happiness if they emigrated to Seattle, or the Western Isles.
I'm here for a conference on Tuesday and Wednesday, run by Informa for the Bermudian insurance and reinsurance industry. Greg and I alternate sitting in on the sessions and then, when a session concludes, one rushes out to write up the session, send it to London, and then rushes back in to replace the other, who then rushes out, writes up the session, and sends it to London.
Unfortunately I also still have to do my newsletter. So the alarm goes off at 3am. I crawl out of bed to write the issue -- send it out at about 5.30am (9.30am London time) and crawl back to bed for 90 minutes' sleep. For a couple of days it is all a bit hectic.
Although the rain lashed down a bit this afternoon, it didn't do much to ease the high humidity level, which I always find enervating. I made it into the swimming pool this morning, and managed 20 lengths. On the downside, they were only short lengths (12 metres is my guess), and they came in 10 x 2-length batches, with a few minutes' rest in between. But, hey, I don't think that I've done any swimming since August 2011 in Cyprus, so it'll take a while to build up stamina.
Since then it seems to have been occupied by some kids quite a lot of the time. But it should be empty again tomorrow morning.
Although my workload is higher, I avoid commuting, and I don't have to do any food preparation or all of the other stuff required when you are not in a hotel. So it's not as big a strain as it might seem. And, of course, I'm in Bermuda, not London!
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