#west coast of Scotland

[seamusicpoetry]

This picture of the Clyde coast was taken from Helensburgh by Fiona Mackinnon

[almondemotion]

King’s Cave

It was difficult to determine the nature of the writing, The signs were obscure. In the back, At the darkest point, the symbols were evident only by torchlight. No, it wasn’t real. It could not have been. My name, The name of my family, my friends, colleagues, and associates, A recording of all I know and know me. A life-receipt, scriptorium. They say that Robert the Bruce hid in this…

[auspicioustidings]

The Gentle Duchess

Blue Blood Part 4

Summary: Continuation of the Blood Druid. Johnny finally teaches you about the things you want to know.

Word Count: 3.3k

CWs: Smut, just shameless smut (which I am still a beginner at so my sibling in Christ temper your expectations)

“Aye, I can teach ye. Good students dinnae yell at their teachers like that though, dae they? I ken ye’ll have been raised with all sorts of those nice gentle manners, so ask again nicely hen” Johnny said, looking down at you sat on the bed with no end of heated mischief in his eyes. 

You had been raised with those nice, gentle manners. You had a reputation as such, the Gentle Duchess who was rarely ever seen at social events but always mild tempered when she did appear. Wouldn’t hurt a fly. Powerful father so a decent prospect for marriage, no brothers. You had been ok with that, it wasn’t a bad thing to be known for being gentle. But right in this moment you understood the call to bloodlust that men at war held. You wanted to strangle this strange creature.

“Good teachers do not tease their students sir” you replied, curt and proper. 

Something of an animal came across him when you had called him sir. You had meant it to be mocking, anyone of good breeding would know it was an insult being said in such a tone. But it affected him in some way that was frighteningly exciting. 

“Ye want tae know whit it’d really be like if I wis teasing ye my lady?” he replied, voice seeming deeper now, the last two words coated in syrup. 

He had leaned forward, putting his hands to either side of you and caging you in. Your heartbeat quickened and you felt a confusion in your blood, fighting to rush to either your cheeks or between your legs. Johnny watched in delight as you naturally leaned back, not even realising you were doing so until you were braced on your forearms, him continuing to follow to stay right in your space. 

It was delicious watching you rebel for what was probably the first time in your life. He had met many women from the nobilities of these silly little Kingdoms, none quite as sheltered as you. And yet there was such a fight in you wrestling to get out. He knew it had always been there, knew that this was destiny for you to fall into their laps. He would bring out that fight, let you sharpen your nails on his skin and whet your teeth on his blood. 

“Perhaps you should reevaluate your surety that you could truly tease me” you said, trying your best to emulate the way you heard the vipers of different social events speak. Polite in the most cutting of ways. 

“Such a sharp tongue on ye” he grinned, putting a firm hand to the centre of your chest and giving one strong push.

With a soft oof you found your back on the bed, arms no longer holding you up. He readjusted, bringing one knee to rest on the small space at the edge of the bed between your legs and bracing one hand beside your head. The other he brought to your lips, two fingers bullying their way past to massage at your tongue. 

“Cannae believe such a pretty wee mouth would gie me such an attitude” he cooed.

Your head may have been getting a little hazey, the sink into that floating space you had discovered this past couple of days feeling imminent, but you steeled yourself. You bit down, feeling a little satisfaction when he hissed and pulled his fingers away, shaking them out. Johnny was indulging you a little, he knew your bite had been controlled, gentle. You didn’t have it in you just yet to try to hurt him. He wondered if you ever would, but he thought it might be a good thing that your nature was more to be docile and gentle. He was more than sure he could push you to be mean, but for Simon a gentle love would be perfect. 

“If you are not going to teach me, then I would prefer you go and play with someone else.”

“You bit me, feral wee thing.”

You tried to stop from going bright red, not able to stop it. Feral wee thing. You had never dreamed anyone would even have a passing thought to think of you in such a way. It made you feel a rush of heady satisfaction. Is this how a pampered cat must feel when it finds cause to sink its claws into something? The reminder that under all those frills and laces and poise there was still a predator?

There was a desperate want in you. Oh how you wanted and wanted and wanted. You wanted to bite him again to see him hiss, you wanted him to bite you so you could feel the sting. You wanted him to touch you. Oh Gods you wanted to touch him. You wanted to stop fighting and beg to touch him, show him how gentle and compliant you could be and have him coo sweet praises at you for it. You wanted to fight and fight and fight until he forced compliance out of you. 

Johnny could see you at odds with yourself. He was pushing you he knew, probably too far too fast. How irresistible a temptation it was when it flushed you so, had you erratically grinding down on his knee without even realising it. Had your hands fisting the sheets, white knuckled in an attempt to keep from losing control and touching him. Touching yourself. Fuck, the little whine that had left you unbidden at his words had him painfully hard. 

But there was another feeling aching away in his chest. His brothers in arms were 3 men he loved fiercely, he would call down the Gods to burn the world for them. Simon Riley especially. The man who had understood what it was like to be looked down on. When Johnny had first let Gaz talk him into joining the Duke’s little team, he had only done it because he thought the Prince was a bonnie thing he wouldn’t mind corrupting and because he wanted to see more of the world. It was Simon who noticed the way people would treat him. Like some untamed savage.

He enjoyed it for the most part, but it got lonely after a while to have everyone be scared of you. And then the big eejit in a mask had started dragging him to spar with the other soldiers, had goaded him into bantering little arguments at dinner where the servants in earshot could hardly hide their laughter, had told fantastical stories to wide eyed children about how Johnny’s homeland had cù-sìths and kelpies and unicorns and all sorts of magic bubbling away that had them constantly bothering Johnny to tell them all about it. He admitted he enjoyed telling them all about his home, treating them with ghost stories and tales of grand adventure.

It was only when he realised all at once that the people around here smiled at him in greeting that he had been fully aware of Simon’s cleverness and quiet care. The man was a monster on the battlefield, but so few saw that he was also fiercely loyal and he protected those he considered his. Looking at you, knowing that soon he would be giving you to the man who so fully deserved you, had his heart singing. 

You would so perfectly compliment him, be the gentle place his heart could rest. Johnny felt such a rush of love for you then, the same warm light he got when communing with his Gods. He sent up a quick prayer, a thank you for sending you. 

“Your aroused wee yin, that’s what this is.”

“What?”

“Ye wanted teaching naw?” he said, steady and encouraging as the bitten hand was placed on your waist, giving a warm squeeze. “This feeling, it’s arousal. This divine wee body wants touching, needs something inside.”

You heard your little noise this time, a startled note. You had tried to put your finger inside, it had felt foreign and uncomfortable. The Prince and the Duke hadn’t… well there was the Duke’s clever tongue. It made you see stars. Did it need to be a tongue? 

“I tried that” you mumbled, avoiding his eyes out of shame.

You jolted when he pressed his lips against your jaw, kisses peppering over you and down to the neckline of your dress. The hand at your waist dragged leisurely down, rucking your dress up to your thigh before pausing there. He pulled his lips away.

“Look at me please.” 

He had asked so achingly sweetly that you had little choice in the matter, meeting his eyes. He was different somehow, no less intense but the intensity was different. Softer in a way that was terrifying for a reason you couldn’t name. 

“Fuck. Tha thu bòidheach” he said, almost breathless. 

“I don’t…”

“Let me touch ye. Let me show ye how to feel good.”

Gone was the teasing, he seemed so sincere now. And he wasn’t pushing you either, the hand on your dress paused. With the others there hadn’t been anytime to really think about it. You had been overwhelmed with sensation. But now he gave you time, gave you a quiet moment to decide if this was something you wanted of him. And still, still you wanted.

“...please” you whispered, not even sure if the word was audible.

“Ok mo leannan, I’ve got ye. Going tae undress you.”

And undress you he did, achingly softly, until you were bare on the bed. He moved you with gentle touches to be fully laid out so he could straddle you and press his forehead to yours with an affectionate headbutt that made you scowl and butt him right back, causing him to chuckle lightly and nuzzle on you.

“Still my feral wee thing.”

He started trailing kisses from your jaw again, this time not meeting any fabric to stop him from continuing down to the swell of your breasts. His hand was firm on your stomach keeping you pressed down into the plush bed as he swirled his tongue around one of your nipples. Your body tried to arch without your permission and you nearly choked on your own saliva at the sharp gasp of pleasure escaping your lips. 

“I… I can feel it between my legs. Ah! I-it’s like there is a path between them” you rambled, trying to fight against the urge to just lose yourself in the sensation so you could understand.

The wet pop of his mouth leaving you was obscene.

“Aye, to here” he said, hand coming to cup you. “Lots of names people call this.”

“His highness he- oh Gods I don’t- c-cunt! That’s what he called it.”

“Fuuuck. Never sounded so pretty a word before now. Whit did his royal pain in the arse call this then?” he asked, finger delving in to press at your clit.

“He called it my clit. Please!”

“Come on wee yin, use your words.”

“I - I don’t know!”

It was driving you wild, his fingers just sitting there pressing. Not moving. You were trying to wriggle as best you could with his other hand still holding you down, trying to get anything. You thought you might cry.

“Aye ye dae. Dinnae be a brat, tell me whit it is ye want.”

You lashed out, small hand grabbing at his hair and sharply pulling as you bared your teeth at him. You hated being called a brat and he had done it twice now. You were a Duchess, demure and proper. If anyone was being a brat it was him. He brought this out in you, this beast. If he was so determined to act like it was somehow you being the problem here then he could do something about it. Oh, wasn’t that a thought that got your blood hot.

“Move your fingers. Use your tongue. Do something!”

His pupils were blown out and he was panting like a dog at the little attack, baring his teeth right back with a feral grin. 

“I’ll allow it my lady, jist this once. After ye get married, ye try that again and I’ll bend ye over and fuck your arse silly while the Prince eats out your cunt. Ye’ll be begging for us tae let your husband come take whit’s his by the time we’re through with ye.”

You didn’t fully understand, but it made you want to fight even more nonetheless. He still wasn’t moving his damn fingers. Deliberate of course on Johnny’s part. He had really thought he could be slow and loving with you, but he adored you spitting mad like this. You were so haughty, refusing to beg him pretty. He knew that Simon and Price would probably spoil you completely, it would be him and Gaz who would work you up like this, get you fighting.

“You insufferable man! I will not beg anything of you” you snapped, yanking him down so you could kiss him.

It was a battle more than anything, all tongues and teeth. The sounds were lewd and you did not care, only relishing in a small victory when he had to move his hands from between you to balance himself and you could wrap your legs around him, rolling your hips to get that friction he should have just given you in the first place. He moaned loudly into your mouth and you felt a hard length pressing into you beneath the heavy fabric of his kilt. It startled you enough to loosen your grip on him, allowing him to pull his mouth from yours, both of you panting and staring at one another.

“Did Gaz teach you the name for it?”

“He… I think he touched it, but he wouldn’t let me see.”

“Selfish Prince hm?”

Your legs tightened around him when he went to move off of you, not understanding. He gave your neck a small nip with his teeth which made you yelp and he used the distraction to pull away and stand. You turned to your side to look up at him in what you had wanted to be anger, but was more akin to looking like a kicked puppy. When he started to unwind the fabric covering him, you watched with fascination. 

You could not look away from the heavy weight between his legs, hard. He wrapped his hand around it and you saw that it was leaking, his thumb catching on that liquid to slick himself up.

“Cock gets hard like this the same way that pretty cunt gets all wet,” he said, fist continuing to pump slowly. 

“May I…?”

You weren’t sure how to ask exactly, but your curiosity had cooled some of your fight. You wanted to touch him the way he was touching himself, see what it felt like. You swallowed thickly, salivating with the image of putting your tongue on him. Would it feel for him the way the Duke had made you feel? He held his hand out to yours and when you took it guided you to hold him. 

It was velvety, hotter than you thought. Sticky. His low moan made your bones rattle. You could die to hear him do it again. You shifted forward to taste it and the noise you were rewarded with made you believe in his old Northern Gods. 

“Fuck, pretty little tongue feels perfect. You’re perfect” he groaned. 

For some reason those two words made you squirm far more than any filth that he could have come out with. He carded a hand through your hair and moved your head back from him, groaning.

“Turn around mo leannan.”

You didn’t follow the instruction immediately, confused and stubborn. But you didn’t resist when he just took your body and turned it as if you weighed nothing to him. You were laid on your side facing away from him and his body joined you, chest against your back. His arm landed heavy on your hip, hand coming around to finally touch you like you had wanted. 

“Touch yourself the way I’m doing, I’m going tae move my fingers to put them inside. Need ye tae relax.”

You wanted, you wanted, you wanted. If he was going to give you what you wanted then you could do what he said without complaint, fingers bumping against his sweetly as you took over. He readjusted your legs, pushing his cock between your thighs making you moan at the heat of it. When he was able to rut slowly he finally dropped his fingers to your opening, pushing one inside.

It felt different to when you had done it. It felt so hot and tight and wet and you could feel your walls trying to milk his finger. 

“So tight. So hot and tight and perfect. Fuck taking it so pretty aren’t ye mo leannan? This was made for a cock, that’s whit I meant by saying I wisnae going tae take your maidenhood. The first cock in ye should be yer husbands in this Kingdom. Fuuuck, bunch of bastards. If ye were from the Northern Isles wouldnae be a problem for me to be inside ye before ye married.”

Everything felt blindingly intense, but it felt like you were on a thin line between that and a fuzzy softness. Like if you just gave in to it, you could leave your thoughts to the wayside and just feel. You resisted, too busy buzzing with the singular thought that one finger was already making you feel desperately stretched and full. A cock inside you?

“I’d die if you put it inside me, s’too big. Feel so full already” you whined, grabbing one of the pillows to press your face into.

He was picking up the pace, the sound of his hard cock sliding between your thighs combined with the sound of his finger pumping in and out of you wet and only interrupted by both of your desperate noises. 

“I know, so tight. We’ll help ye, me and the Prince and the Duke. Get ye ready and excited,” he said, his words spoken right into the flesh of your shoulder where he had buried his head. 

He added another finger and you swore, not something very lady like but fuck you wanted, you wanted, you wanted. Your own fingers bumped against his again, dipping down to get more of that slick to make everything feel better. He kissed at your shoulder and you thought you could die from such a sweet little gesture.

“So good, taking it so good. Feels better already hm? Ye know that ye were made to take our cocks, can feel ye clenching thinking about it. Would ye like that? After Simon gets ye nice and full with a child let the rest of us have ye. Never going tae want for anything wee yin, we’ll take such good care of ye.”

He reminded you of Gaz, the words seemingly being spoken for himself more than you. The idea that he would find it pleased him thinking of you being taken care of was going to give you heart problems. 

It was only after you came with a scream that he really showed you how much this was affecting him. He fucked your thighs with a fury, leaving your breathless. You had taken your fingers away, choking a sob when he pulled his out and then just crying out incoherently when instead of removing them entirely he went back to your clit, the overstimulation dragging pleasure out of pain. 

“J-Johnny I can’t!”

“Ye fucking can! Cum for me again my lady” he growled.

Turned out you could and the way you howled had him cumming as well. You felt ropes of sticky fluid make a mess of your thighs and you were too boneless and dazed to question it. That was a lesson for another time, on the balance of things you reckoned school was out for the day.

[orcinus-ocean]

Icelandic whales and ecotype

I’ve seen some claims going around that the Icelandic whales displayed in zoos and aquariums for the past several decades are actually two different ecotypes, with some being “North Atlantic type 1″ and a few others being “North Atlantic type 2″.

I think this is completely wrong, and will show you why.

Above are an assortment of ecotype infographics.

As you can see, “type 1″ are the typical whale you’ll find off Iceland and Norway. They eat mainly herring and other small fish (though some individuals have been observed taking seals), and males typically range from 6.2-6.6 meters, females, around 5.5 meters.

They have clear saddlepatches, and tend to have eyepatches like this:

As the closeup of the map image (last image in the collection above) shows, “type 1″ orcas are also in turn split into type A and B. Type “1A”, if you will, follow exactly the range of where Icelandic whales were caught, and along the Norwegian coast (this eyepatch collage is of both Icelandic and Norwegian whales).

As all the other ecotype infographics show, “type 1″ live off Iceland, Norway, with a couple pointing out that they may range as far south as Scotland and Ireland.

“Type 2″ on the other hand, is huge, one of the largest killer whales anywhere on Earth (after Antarctic type A). Males are 7.5-8.5 meters long, females 6.5-7 meters. They have distinctive downwards sloping eyepatches (like sad eyebrows, seen above), faint saddlepatches, are are very rarely seen, range around Britain, Ireland, the Faroes, and occasionally as far as Svalbard - not Iceland or Norway. They are mammal-eaters, specializing in minke whales as prey. Today, only a few of them remain.

The claim is then, that some of our Icelanders in human care are secretly, actually, type 2.

Let’s look at them. I have gathered all the whales caught in Iceland into a large collage, here split for ease of viewing. The only named whales I couldn’t get good enough images of were Canuck 2, Magnus and Benkei 2.

If the whale is still alive or died as an adult, I will provide measurements, if known.

I originally wrote descriptions for all the following whales, but it got tiring, repetitive, and too lengthy.

Kim, Gudrun, Kenau, Kandu 5, Hoi Wai, Kona 2, Winnie, Betty, Kahana, and Kasatka.

All of very typical “type 1″ looks.

Kim

Gudrun has no measurements available, but as can be seen when she lived at SeaWorld as a full-grown female, she was not large.

Kenau was caught with Gudrun. She was 5.5 meters long when she died at age 16.

Kandu 5. Interestingly, Orkid is the only whale in human care who has anything like the type 2 eyepatch, but she’s the daughter of Kandu who does not, and a Northern resident (Canadian) father who also did not. Kandu measured under 5.4 meters when she died.

Hoi Wai

Kona 2 was likely caught with Kandu 5, had enormous, distinct eyepatches, and she was 5.5 meters long at the time of death.

Winnie was caught with Hoi Wai as said, had a typical Icelandic eyepatch, and the same size and shape as other Icelandic females she lived with.

Betty was caught along with Katina, so they were likely pod mates.

Kahana was caught with Kasatka. She was particularly petite, measuring barely 5.1 meters when she died aged 15.

Kasatka was a mere 5.2 meters long, and looks nothing like a type 2 whale.

Shawn

Kotar was 17-18 years old when he died, and measured 6.4 meters at the time of his death.

Katina is a typical, squat and stocky Icelandic whale with large eyepatches. She is just barely 5.5 meters long.

Dzul-ha

Caren was just 10-11 years old when she died, and measured 5 meters long.

Kiska was a larger female at 6 meters. Large for a type 1, but nowhere near the 6.5-7 meter type 2 females.

Keiko was an average-sized type 1 male at about 6.4 meters.

King

Ulises is another average-sized type 1 male, at 6.4 meters.

Bjossa is another I can find no measurements of, but she was much smaller than Corky, who is 6.1 meters (a Northern resident). She looks typical of an Icelandic whale if a bit long. Looking at the top middle whale of my eyepatch collage, that whale looks just like Bjossa.

Finna was caught along with Ulises, Bjossa and Vigga, his pod mates.

Vigga was another stocky and short female with large eyepatches, notably smaller than her 6 meter Northern resident companion.

Nemo

Neptune

Ruka

Noni/Nootka was stocky and large female, at 6 meters, but with a bright saddle and eyepatches so commonly seen among Icelandic and Norwegian herring-eaters.

Freya was the only adult I could find who had a truly faint saddle patch (note that juveniles of all ecotypes tend to have faint saddles). She was also very long and slender compared to the typical, more stocky Icelandic female. She was however caught along with Kim 2 and Haida 2, and measured 6 meters in her late 20s. Her eyepatch is not type 2.

Haida 2 was, unlike her likely pod mate Freya, very typical in appearance for a type 1. She measured 5.2 meters at the age of 13.

Kim 2 was reportedly a large male, at 6.9 meters, just under Tilikum in size.

Nootka 4 (strange designation since she was caught one year after “Nootka 5″) was the same size as Haida.

Tilikum was the largest Icelandic killer whale in human care, reportedly at just under 7 meters, though I have also seen 6.7 meters (in 2016, shortly before his death). Even if he was 6.9 meters, that is indeed large for a type 1, but absolutely minute for a type 2, and he looks nothing like them.

Nandu

Samoa was 5.15 meters long when she died, with a clear type 1 eyepatch and saddle patch.

Junior

Bingo had interesting triangular eyepatches and a black line in his saddle, and measured 6.5 meters in his early 30s.

Patty

Kandu 7

Prince

Maggie

Oscar was an unusually small male, measuring only 5.8 meters at the age of 26.

Stella is very small, only around 5.2 meters long.

Ai

Ran

Sharkane

Tanouk measured 6.4 meters in his teens (meaning he would grow larger for a few years).

So that’s all of them, except for Canuck 2, Magnus, and Benkei 2.

Then, there is this:

You can stop calling North Atlantic killer whales type 1 and type 2

“The main issue with type 2 killer whales came from the small sample size (5 individuals)”

“In the meantime, Dr. Foote suggested we just drop the “type 1/type 2” classification for now.”

There is simply no basis to think any of the above 45 whales from Iceland are or were the “type 2″ whales, like John Coe.

[thedaily-beer]

Brewdog Puppet Master West Coast IPA (Picked up at Brewdog's Doghouse in Edinburgh, Scotland). A 3 of 4. A relatively standard West Coast IPA with pine/citrus hop profile and primarily grapefruit pith bitterness in the body. The body is a touch lighter than standard and the bitterness slightly higher, particularly for IPAs in the UK.

[foxesandfairlies]

The sunrise over Crinan and Duntrune Castle.

[dysphorie]

Aurora borealis

At this time of year

At this time of day

In this part of the country

Localised entirely within my living room???

Just the sky above scotland tonight, no big (not my photos, mine turned out shite lol)

[sthildaseaadventures-blog]

Our New Small Ship Speideren

Our small ship Speideren ready for her voyage to the west coast of Scotland.

[musicallykerr]

Happy Weekend to you from the sunny west coast. 😎 Just a little update to say hello and to share that I’ve finally had a bit of a spark and been writing and recording music again. For a while I struggled and thought maybe I was going through some kind of block - for the first time in my life - but the light switched back on and the energy, ideas then melodies again started to flow, for which I’m very thankful. 🙏 I’m going to do my best to finish them and get them out there over the next few months, one by one. Thanks to those who continue to listen or leave me messages/comments on the various channels – I find your support really encouraging and I’m grateful. Much love to you. Take good care.🍻

[whaleposters]

Scotland's Killer Whales: The West Coast Community art print poster. Available at cetek.etsy.com

[kazaniwskyj2]

[melodychic]

our west coast adventures part 3

[neil-gaiman]

Hi Mr Gaiman,

My sister and I went to the Isle of Rúm off the west coast of Scotland and found a red phone box. We’re annoying English tourists so we went to take a picture and found that the phone was not only fully operational, but that there was a book swap inside, and guess who I found!!

I thought this find was very special bc Rúm is how I imagine some of the Old Country looking like.

Hope you’re well!!

I'm well and smiling at this.

[thedaily-beer]

Stewart Brewing Radical Road IPA (Picked up at Margiotta in Edinburgh, Scotland). A 3 of 4. Smells of orange citrus, grapefruit, and some fainter tropical fruit. This feels like a pretty standard West Coast IPA up front, and it delivers that in the body and finish as well.

[ltwilliammowett]

Rooms in a Lighthouse

Although the buildings of lighthouses differ depending on their location and purpose, they generally have common components. However, a distinction must also be made between a lighthouse station consisting of the lighthouse and all the outbuildings such as the lighthouse keeper's house, the fuel house, the boathouse and the building for fog signalling, i.e. a land station, and an inhabited lighthouse as it was found at sea.

Sections of Bell Rock and Skerryvore Lighthouses, date 1884

Skerryvore is a remote reef that lies off the west coast of Scotland, 12 miles (19 kilometres) south-west of the island of Tiree. Skerryvore is best known as the name given to the lighthouse on the skerry, built with some difficulty between 1838 and 1844 by Alan Stevenson.

The Bell Rock Lighthouse, off the coast of Angus, Scotland, is the world's oldest surviving sea-washed lighthouse. It was built between 1807 and 1810 by Robert Stevenson on the Bell Rock (also known as Inchcape) in the North Sea, 11 miles (18 km) east of the Firth of Tay. Standing 35 metres (115 ft) tall, its light is visible from 35 statute miles (56 km) inland.

If you are only dealing with an inhabited tower, you usually have the following rooms in it. Please note that, apart from the lantern room, there is no standardised scheme and the rooms were often arranged differently.

The lantern room is the glazed housing at the top of the lighthouse that contains the lamp and the lens. The glass panes are held in place by vertical or diagonal metal rungs. A lightning conductor and an earthing system, which are connected to the metal roof of the dome, ensure that any lightning strikes are safely discharged.

Sections of the Eddystone Lighthouse of 1759 and 1884

Immediately below the lantern room is usually a guard room where fuel and other supplies were stored and where the keeper prepared the lanterns for the night and often kept watch. The clockwork (for turning the lenses) was also located there. On a lighthouse there is often an open platform, the gallery, outside the watchroom (main gallery) or the lantern room (lantern gallery). It was mainly used to clean the outside of the lantern room windows. Below this was a living room, bedroom, possibly a separate kitchen, if not a cooking area was accommodated in the living room. In addition, there were often several storage rooms, an oil room (where the oil for the lantern were storaged) and a coal room. And if you're wondering where the bathroom was - well there wasn't one, there was a wash bowl, possibly a wooden tub for an occasional bath, but rarely, and chamber pots in the bedroom.

Life in a lighthouse at sea was not easy and managed to bring many an old sea dog to his knees. The lighthouse keepers on land had it much easier.

[fatehbaz]

Travel back [...] a few hundred years to before the industrial revolution, and the wildlife of Britain and Ireland looks very different indeed. 

Take orcas: while there are now less than ten left in Britain’s only permanent (and non-breeding) resident population, around 250 years ago the English [...] naturalist John Wallis gave this extraordinary account of a mass stranding of orcas on the north Northumberland coast [...]. If this record is reliable, then more orcas were stranded on this beach south of the Farne Islands on one day in 1734 than are probably ever present in British and Irish waters today. [...]

Other careful naturalists from this period observed orcas around the coasts of Cornwall, Norfolk and Suffolk. I have spent the last five years tracking down more than 10,000 records of wildlife recorded between 1529 and 1772 by naturalists, travellers, historians and antiquarians throughout Britain and Ireland, in order to reevaluate the prevalence and habits of more than 150 species [...].

In the early modern period, wolves, beavers and probably some lynxes still survived in regions of Scotland and Ireland. By this point, wolves in particular seem to have become re-imagined as monsters [...].

Elsewhere in Scotland, the now globally extinct great auk could still be found on islands in the Outer Hebrides. Looking a bit like a penguin but most closely related to the razorbill, the great auk’s vulnerability is highlighted by writer Martin Martin while mapping St Kilda in 1697 [...].

[A]nd pine martens and “Scottish” wildcats were also found in England and Wales. Fishers caught burbot and sturgeon in both rivers and at sea, [...] as well as now-scarce fishes such as the angelshark, halibut and common skate. Threatened molluscs like the freshwater pearl mussel and oyster were also far more widespread. [...]

Predators such as wolves that interfered with human happiness were ruthlessly hunted. Authors such as Robert Sibbald, in his natural history of Scotland (1684), are aware and indeed pleased that several species of wolf have gone extinct:

There must be a divine kindness directed towards our homeland, because most of our animals have a use for human life. We also lack those wild and savage ones of other regions. Wolves were common once upon a time, and even bears are spoken of among the Scottish, but time extinguished the genera and they are extirpated from the island.

The wolf was of no use for food and medicine and did no service for humans, so its extinction could be celebrated as an achievement towards the creation of a more civilised world. Around 30 natural history sources written between the 16th and 18th centuries remark on the absence of the wolf from England, Wales and much of Scotland. [...]

In Pococke’s 1760 Tour of Scotland, he describes being told about a wild species of cat – which seems, incredibly, to be a lynx – still living in the old county of Kirkcudbrightshire in the south-west of Scotland. Much of Pococke’s description of this cat is tied up with its persecution, apparently including an extra cost that the fox-hunter charges for killing lynxes:

They have also a wild cat three times as big as the common cat. [...] It is said they will attack a man who would attempt to take their young one [...]. The country pays about £20 a year to a person who is obliged to come and destroy the foxes when they send to him. [...]

The capercaillie is another example of a species whose decline was correctly recognised by early modern writers. Today, this large turkey-like bird [...] is found only rarely in the north of Scotland, but 250–500 years ago it was recorded in the west of Ireland as well as a swathe of Scotland north of the central belt. [...] Charles Smith, the prolific Dublin-based author who had theorised about the decline of herring on the coast of County Down, also recorded the capercaillie in County Cork in the south of Ireland, but noted: This bird is not found in England and now rarely in Ireland, since our woods have been destroyed. [...] Despite being protected by law in Scotland from 1621 and in Ireland 90 years later, the capercaillie went extinct in both countries in the 18th century [...].

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Images, captions, and text by: Lee Raye. “Wildlife wonders of Britain and Ireland before the industrial revolution – my research reveals all the biodiversity we’ve lost.” The Conversation. 17 July 2023. [Map by Lee Raye. Bold emphasis and some paragraph breaks/contractions added by me.]