weeks offshore, nights with sarah
Two weeks on the rig. Cold North Sea. Wind battering metal walls. Nothing but work and sleep and radio chatter. Thirty men. Same faces. Same stories. Waiting to get back to land.Sarah knows the drill.
6 stories from 3 writers across Scotland
Two weeks on the rig. Cold North Sea. Wind battering metal walls. Nothing but work and sleep and radio chatter. Thirty men. Same faces. Same stories. Waiting to get back to land.Sarah knows the drill.
There's something surreal about walking from my university office into Edinburgh's shadowed streets, knowing precisely where I'm heading. My tweed jacket and reading glasses suggest one life. My desti
There's something profoundly liberating about stepping outside one's carefully constructed life. Academic colleagues see me as the measured historian, serious and somewhat austere. If they could see m
There's something almost academic about arranging these encounters. Not just the physical meeting, but the careful choreography beforehand. Emails exchanged with the precision of research corresponden
Just touched down in Glasgow after six weeks on the North Sea rigs. Money's burnin a hole right through my wallet and christ do I need some human contact after bein stuck with a bunch of roughnecks.Fi
There's something peculiar about being a widower in your fifties. The loneliness creeps in quietly, like Edinburgh fog rolling over Arthur's Seat. My academic colleagues would never understand. They s