For almost two hundred years, this island fortress in the Adriatic was falling to ruin. Technically English territory until recently, it was built by George III’s Navy as a stronghold after the Battle of Vis. Six years after Nelson died, one of his protégés found himself completely outnumbered by a hostile force at this strategically important island. He had three frigates and a post boat. The French had six frigates, a brig, two schooners a xebec and a pair of gunboats. William Hoste was his name . He ran a flag reading “Remember Nelson,” as the engagement began, and he remembered the great admiral full well.
A patient use of an overloaded howitzer swept the deck of the enemy flagship, and general use of very bold and creative seamanship brought about a landslide English victory against very long odds.
In this photo I’m sitting on the ruined wall of the stronghold that the British then erected here shortly afterwards, named Fort George for the king. Rich is working. I thought I might be useful up there but ended up just trying to decide whether or not I suffered from vertigo. I started by walking down it and ended up shuffling on my bum as the perception of my own mortality grew stronger. I very much like being alive.
The fort fell into disuse and disrepair, even though it was always British territory. Only recently it has been rescued. Care is being taken of it. There was a ceremonial return of the soil to Croatia but the venue still has British roots and I’m here because of that. Well … I’m here because of a party. It is remote. You can crank up the beats and nobody will be at the foot of your drive with a noisemeter.
After we had dressed the place, we all mucked in round back to build a custom DJ table for tomorrow. I was mostly spare if I’m honest. I’m getting handier but these guys are off the scale. Rich and Mike built it. Fran painted it. I was just sanding and touching up. My job will be marketing. We’ve decided to call the business “FARM” as it is all of our initials. I’m crucial to that plan, bringing the only vowel. I’m not sure that “Buy the farm” is quite the right tone for our pitch, but I’m seriously impressed with what they whipped up in an overgrown Croatian hillside fortress mostly in the dark. Full disclosure, the business might have been banter. But also, guys if you need a custom DJ Table last minute and you can PAY US LOADS OF MONEY, maybe I can help.
Now it’s ten to eleven and I’m sitting on a wall behind the lighting desk. It’s a little calm place as the DJ pumps out the beats. It’s nice to feel I was part of a team making this happen. “so nice now the world has opened up again eh?” is my night time message from Lou, and God yes those shit shut times feel like a fever dream now. Summer stretches before us. Tonight I’m tired and sitting on the wall in a sweaty T-shirt knowing I’ll barely sleep, but other nights I’ll be in that fray bopping my mind out. This is genuinely one of the best DJ sets I’ve heard for years, made all the better by the fact I was dancing to some of these tunes three days ago in Tanya’s living room. Grow up? Me? Meh. There’s way too much fun to be had.
OH NO AND AT 2AM I’VE JUST DISCOVERED THAT THERE IS A TRAIN STRIKE AND I LAND IN GATWICK AT HALF 3 TOMORROW
The redbull has run out.
3.40 We took it all down. Now we are in the queue for the dawn boat back to the mainland. I might sleep a little in the van. We have woken up the birds in the tree next to us by being noisy and now they and they alone are convinced its dawn. I guess it will be some time. “Shall we go skinny-dipping?” by Fran is not met with vast enthusiasm by anyone else.
I’m on my back on a bench in Vis harbour. Stars still visible but rhododactylos Eos is sneaking over the edges of the hill. I don’t know the ratio, but I’m gonna have to work hard to get the number of dawn I’ve seen to match the number of sunsets. Here’s one more dawn though, swinging the pendulum. I’m gonna lie here and appreciate it and schedule this. Blog out.
AlBarclay 