Anita Birt's Note book

Having never worked in a mine or been underground my thoughts keep returning to what happened to the thirty three Chilean minters for the seventeen days when they were completely trapped and didn't know whether any would survive. If this doesn't interest you, ignore it.

The miners had their hard hats and their lamps, standard equipment in mines. Did they have food with them? My husband's father was a coal miner in Wales and he never left home without his Tommy Box - in it his food to keep him going during his work day. Penallta Pit had rich coal seams and the miners used what seems to us now, as rudimentary equipment, to dig coal from the coal face.

Back to the los33. If they left their hard had lights on the batteries would soon run down and they would be complete darkness. After the initial shock and fights that reportedly broke I suspect the shift foreman stepped in to organize his men. Like a drill sergeant my ex-army son suggested. Keep the men busy. Give them tasks.

But I'm still thinking about their helmet lights. Did they ration the time for them to be on or what? I went caving here on Vancouver Island many years ago. We were equipped with helmets and lights, like the miners. We climbed down a steep ladder into the cave. A steel lid crashed closed up above. Our leader asked us to switch off our lights, which we did. Now we are in complete darkness. It was to me, an unbelievable experience and the memory made me feel something of the trapped men when they experienced complete darkness, not knowing if they'd every be saved. Try and imagine it.

Did the Chilean miners carry "tommy boxes" with them? Possibly strapped to their belts. The story of those seventeen days is the one I'd like to hear. Ration light. Ration food. The "sergeant" keeping the men organized and busy. Tell me the story!

In newspapers, book and magazines there is much ado about happiness. A book called, The Happiness Project. What about, oops I can't remember the complete title - was it Eat Pray, Love? Sarah Hampson, a columnist in the Canadian newspaper, The Globe and Mail, is writing a weekly column called Happiness. It's about heading out into the world with a "happiness" goal invisibly etched behind our eyes.

I'm feeling rotten right now, a cold and 'flu and a cancer diagnosis. I paste a smile on my face when I meet and greet people because no one wants to be around a sad sack or someone describing all her aches and pains. Happiness is an elusive concept. Try it, by all means, but don't feel guilty when the miseries creep in and you have to hide out until they drift away.

There's a lot more to the Happiness story but I'm not in the mood to carry on. I am tired.

A comment or two would be nice. Or sit back and either enjoy or dislike my thoughts.

Anita
www.anitabirt.com