Five degrees North, Five degrees South…

Another grey day, the garden, almost too green for its own good, is dripping wet from the fine drizzling rain and I have to go out in it. Off to the dentist – just a check, a clean and polish, no root canal work to be done, no molars to extract.

I’m down deep in the dumps today, caught up in a fit of the sullens, moping around as you do when things go really slowly. Tired, bored - at a complete standstill, stuck and stopped, everything far too much effort all in all. Hardly inspiring, cylinders not really firing, I wouldn’t even bother to go to the ball. There, I think that you get the general idea; I’m a bit fed up.

Yes, I’m down in the dumps, fed up to the back teeth actually. I’m stuck in the doldrums, figuratively speaking. Oh, if only I really was; the place that is, not the mood. Stuck in the doldrums like A. Jones, the chap mentioned in my certificate pictured above.

My dad gave me that certificate; he rescued it from a skip. Just why anybody would want to throw such a wonderful thing into a skip is beyond me, the illustration is beautiful and the text all hand-scripted. I love the mermaids and the fish, the sailor tumbling into the sea, King Neptune on the ocean bottom, the cherub trade winds (one of them in a sailor’s hat riding on the back of a flying fish) playing tag with each other in the air.

A. Jones (whoever he may have been) must have been a seaman on his Britannic Majesty’s ship Carlisle when it and he crossed the equator on the 24^th of October, 1934. Seaman Jones was given this certificate in commemoration of his first crossing and it requires all sharks, dolphins, and Sea Monsters to treat him with the respect that is his due. What a brilliant thing.

Seaman Jones must have passed through the doldrums, located roughly between 5° north and 5° south of the equator on his journey. It’s a region of calm winds, centred slightly north of the equator and right between the two belts of trade winds, the place where both trade winds meet up and cancel each other out, blowing each other to a standstill.

I always thought that the phrase 'in the doldrums' came from the name of that area, but actually, it's the other way around. Back in the 1800’s, the word 'doldrum' meant 'dullard - a dull or sluggish fellow', probably derived from the word 'dol', meaning 'dull', and taking its form from ‘tantrum’ - that wonderful word meaning a fit of petulance and passion.

Sometimes when I’m deep in the dumps I go to the first floor landing and gaze at A. Jones’ certificate, imagining all the adventures he must have had. I wonder who he was and what he thought as he crossed the equator and was given his certificate. I imagine a party in the officer’s mess with singing and rum. Sometimes I almost feel that I know him and I doubt very much that A. Jones was a dullard. It always lifts my mood a little.

Yep, another grey day and time to trudge off to the dentist in the rain – no wonder I’m down in the dumps. Still, old Jonesy went through the doldrums and came out the other side. Maybe I can do the same.