A beautiful morning in May, quite early, and we stroll down to the little quayside.
The old man is there as usual with his old boat.
A lttle unsteady now, he unties the rope with some awkwardness and turns to greet us.
He is self-conscious I feel as he guides the boat to shore. Yes,- that's why,- he has some difficulty stepping onto land, his feet unsure ,a little clumsy, but taking his time, he makes it with just a little gentle help
This is Cikko, a dear friend of over twenty years.
Cikko is now eighty eight years old. Wen we first met him ,over twenty years ago, he was a swarthy man, fit and muscular with the wise, sunburned face of a man of the sea. He has lived in St Paul's Bay all his life, in a tiny house that is spartan but enough. Enough for him to live simply, peacefully, with his own pattern. Out early each morning to see what fish are about, guiding his boat with the long bamboo pole, and delighting if he finds an octopus; out walking along the sea path each afternoon, pausing to greet friends, and Cikko has many.
Today he has seen many changes, not all of them happy ones, as he sadly tells us. The simple scene of the village has been spoiled with many high flats, mainly for Summer visitors; The rocks below are now packed tight with holiday makers in the high season, and the lovely oleander trees that Cikko loved and surrounded with his little flower garden have been uprooted, leaving the scene drab and bare.
Cikko still finds early morning peace in his little boat, as the sun rises and the sky turns to blue. But that simple, long ago peace has vanished, and his life is sadder.
We love Cikko, he is so much bound to our life here. I will miss him sadly if he leaves us, St Paul's Bay will never be the same.
Maureen
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