Don’t forget your old shipmates

This is a digression from mountaineering, but a worthy one. Once again I have been lambasted by my wife, this time for liking ‘dad music’. It all came about when I mentioned Fisherman’s Friends – she thought I was talking about those disgusting sweets that come in white grease-proof paper from the sweetshop…

Fisherman’s Friends are in fact a group of men who sing sea shanties in Cornish pubs. When I discovered that they are to release a new CD of these songs something swelled inside me. Do I take myself too seriously or have I suddenly become a ‘dad’ – completely and utterly behind the times? Who knows, but I am not yet a beached Cornish whale, like my pregnant wife!

To return to serious matters, am I alone or does the prospect of burly fishermen with big moustaches singing about the high seas not rouse something primeaval in the heart of every man? It awakens the Celt in me, the Anglo-Saxon raider in his longboat, the Captain Hornblower or Captin Aubery of Master and Commander. Every man was once a young boy who wanted an adventure and a bit of danger for extra added spice.

Where’s that little boy now? Where’s the part of you that would long to go to the far side of the world and back with his muckers? My wife is now making pirate impressions at me. My eyes roll back in my head.

Keep dreaming of the sea…


3 Responses to Don’t forget your old shipmates

  1. Great post man, cut me right to the core! These women just don't understand!

  2. Simon Cox says:

    Ben, glad you enjoyed that one; I enjoyed writing it. It was a break from the usual, but definitely worth it!

  3. Daniel says:

    Hey Si,Good seeing you both on Sat. Hope you had some good r&r over the weekend. Continuing the theme of 'beached Cornish whales', I came across this recently and thought you might like it:'Oh my beautiful fat wifeLarger to me than lifeSmile broader than the river NileMy winsome waddlesomeYou do me proud in the shallow of the morningYou do me proud in the deep of nightOh, my bodysome mud-basking companion.'by John Agard, 'Hippo writes a love poem to his wife'

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