Welcome to the Falklands

For those of you who are a little confused about my life – don’t worry – so am I. I am doing a 3 month stint in the Falklands, working in the only hospital on the islands - I am only 5 days in – totally surreal. And, don’t ask what I will do next…

The Falklands apparently swung off the East coast of South Africa back in Gondwanaland days, it swivelled a further 180 degrees and keep cruising until it hit the Argentinian plate. So my initial impression of this land contains echoes of my home country (the rocks and litchen are so similar to Silvermine), there are echoes of England, echoes of South America and Alaska, echoes of my parents’ childhood (it’s 1960’s – safe, friendly, billboard and flashing light-free).

Then I wonder, why do I need to compare it to all these things to make sense of it? Typical human judgement and opinion – maybe it’s not like any of these things at all – simply it’s Falklands and I have no idea what that is.

I do know, the fruit and veg supply is a sad state – and I am reliably informed it is hugely improved these days – a few years ago you couldn’t even find a cucumber! I am surprised the locals don’t all have scurvy – but apparently they do have high levels of bowel cancer because of the veganproof diet.

There is no atm, no traffic lights, no chain stores – but have no fear – there are 2 tatoo artists in town, the “Fighting Pig Band” which plays at the Trough, and apparently a guy who renamed himself, Mr Happy Donkey. One wonders what exactly inspired this name..