The Blessing
Standing in the flurry of snow up on the shelter-deck roof, the words of George Mackay Brown are whipped away in the wind as soon as they leave the ministers lips. Myself, Carolyn and Hazel stand alone the significance of the moment isnt lost on any of us. 6 months ago, this day was a pipe dream subject of idle surface interval chats, many sketches of dive decks and cunning plans hatched and nurtured. So in the snow and wind of Stromness Harbour, the newest dive boat of the fleet is made known to any gods who may be watching.
I’m not religious, neither are Carolyn or Hazel, but the boat might be, so we thought it best to make sure. Many people dont know, but almost every fishing boat carries a bible on board. I would rather not consider when it is referred to by fishermen, as many people seem to either lose their religion or find it in times of extreme trouble. Ours is kept in the wheelhouse, and it never crossed our minds to get rid of it. I just dont think it would feel right to.
George was a poet based in Stromness, his works world famous and it seemed appropriate to read something of his on the Valkyrie.
Finally a blessing from Celtic tradition was said into the bitingly cold air, completing the ceremony. A bottle of Champagne is carried onto the whaleback by Hazel and the cork sent flying, some of the contents poured over the bows, drunk from and then the bottle passed to Carolyn and myself, pouring a generous splash over the name above the wheelhouse we then retreat inside to the welcome warmth. There was something unusual about this, an all female owned and crewed boat being blessed by a female minister. Make what you want of it, but it felt right.
A long night is had, much food, drink and merriment. The babies head is thoroughly wet, roll on the dive season 
