Adrift

Sometimes I feel like I'm on a raft in the middle of the ocean. There is no sign of land or a ship in any direction. I'm truly alone, completely alone, surrounded by nothing but the sea. Water might be Gordon's home but to me it's just wet stuff. Salty wet stuff since it's the ocean. Something inside tells me that I have to stop drifting. It is important to my continued existence that I strike out and paddle hard in one direction or another.

Sitting on my crude, wooden raft it's impossible to decide which way to paddle. I have no navigational aids, no-one to tell me the best way to go and no friend to give me advice about which direction to take. So I need to decide which is the right heading: north, south, east or west. Of course, if I'd got Scott with me he'd say something like "West!" in such a definite tone of voice that I'd know he must be right and off we'd paddle into the setting sun.

So the decision is made that I have to paddle somewhere, yeh? Or perhaps I should just drift and drift until I drift away to another universe. Father wouldn't like that. "You need a purpose in life," he'd say in a stern tone of voice. Then he'd spoil the effect by smiling in a way I know means he'll love me whatever I do. Or that's what I interpret the smile to mean. What if I've been wrong all these years? It's that smile that's now giving me some of the strength I need to paddle.

A huge liner hoves into view. It's a cruise ship. I wave but it doesn't see me. Why not? Surely it must have really sophisticated radar systems. It must spot little old me on my raft. But it doesn't. It just sails on by. I can hear the people on it, laughing and joking together, drinking and dancing, having a great time. I wave again. Someone on the deck sees me? No, they've turned their back. Must have thought I was a log or a whale but not an actual person or they'd have waved back, wouldn't they?

So, I'm still drifting alone on my little raft. If Virgil was here he'd be making improvements already. He'd be grabbing bits of driftwood to make the whole thing bigger, much bigger. He'd be rigging up some complicated kind of sail and fashioning an improvised rudder. He'd be doing a bunch of calculations to make sure the raft was the best shape ergonomically to go fast through water. He'd call up Gordon and they'd spend hours getting it just right. Hang on, if Virgil can contact Gordon from this raft, why can't I?

I don't understand why I'm feeling like this today. When I'm in Thunderbird 5 it's quite okay to have 'feeling alone on a raft in the middle of the ocean' moments because, well, space is big and no-one is dropping by to ask me out for a beer anytime soon. Back at Base I shouldn't feel alone, should I? It's funny, because when I'm in Thunderbird 5 everyone makes an effort to call me up every day and say "hi" so I don't get lonely.

Come on, get going, get paddling or you'll be stuck here forever. Why doesn't anyone help me? Why doesn't anyone rescue me? Where's International Rescue when you really need it? Trouble is, John and I only know someone wants to be rescued when they get on the radio and say something like: "Help! Calling International Rescue! Emergency!" The filters pick that up in ten seconds flat. If you don't speak, no-one comes to rescue you.

The thing is, I'm so far out in the ocean now that, however loudly I shout, no-one will hear me. A proper nightmare: screaming until you're hoarse and still no-one hears. I should paddle, then. Which way did I think Scott would suggest? Westwards. Okay, then. But what if the sun sets before I reach landfall?

Negativity is a bad thing. Gordon keeps trying to teach me that in a roundabout way. He thinks I'm not hearing him but I am. He says he wouldn't be alive today if it wasn't for a bit of positive thinking. Damn straight! I just haven't worked out where he keeps his pot of positivity so that I can sneak some from it.

So why am I feeling like this today? Because I've got no Mom? Because I'm not a motor racing hero anymore? Because I'm the youngest of five and everyone patronises me? A thousand excuses and none of them right. Actually, that last one's not strictly true. Gordon's always treated me like a best friend and John and I respect each other a lot more now that we share responsibility for Thunderbird 5. Virgil's always been a protective big brother and Scott can be abrasive with me sometimes but I know he wants the best for me and would fight in my corner any day.

I mean it this time, I'm going to paddle and paddle hard. I've seen pictures of Mom, and Virgil said she was really kind. I think she'd notice that I was drifting and come and find me. That's what moms do, right? Never give up on you through thick and thin. Always there as your safety net. Not that Dad isn't a good safety net but I want to impress him with my brilliance, not disappoint him with my failings.

John, Virg, Scotty and Gordon, they'd have all been back on shore by now, wouldn't they? They'd have all found some way to get to safety. Paddle, that's what I've got to do. I can reach the shore and I can reach people and I'll be back home safe and all will be great. I think I can see a lump on the horizon. Could be Tracy Island. Must paddle towards it. But what if I get there and no-one's home?

"Al…Alan…you're burning, wake up!"

I open my eyes and blink into the sun. Gordon's opening and closing his mouth. He's talking. I must tune in.

"Wake up, sleepy-head. You're not in the shade anymore. Come for a swim to cool off."

Gordon reaches out his hand to pull me to my feet. He'll never know how much that one gesture means to me right now. I grasp his hand like it's a lifeline. I'm home. I can stop paddling.