Rainy day song in a bus shelter

A setlist from a Suzanne Vega concert in 2013, featuring her most famous hits Luka and Tom's Diner

Today wasn't a rainy day, but there have been plenty in the past month. On one of the wettest I found myself ducking in and out of bus shelters as I made my way to work, because with seven miles to cover on a moped scooter, trying to ride through torrential cloudbursts was not advisable.

When it rains in Bermuda it is common to see moped and bike riders seeking cover in roadside bus shelters, sometimes taking their bike with them, to get out of the worst of the weather and wait for a break before continuing their journey.

This day was an exceptionally unpleasant one, with unpredictable squalls sending pummeling rain sweeping across the island at almost five-minute intervals. If you were riding a bike it was nigh on impossible to get anywhere without being drenched.

And so it was that I found myself dashing to a stone-built bus shelter to sit out the next blast of rain, my banana-yellow rain suit dripping and my bike parked on the pavement next to the shelter. Moments later I was joined by another rider. He was heading in the opposite direction and was just as soggy.

We exchanged greetings and commented on how the rain was ensuring it would take three-times as long for us to get where we were going. We stood and watched the world around us being washed, then the other rider started to hum to himself. It was a tune I instantly recognised - Suzanne Vega's Tom's Diner.

The song first appeared as an a cappella track on Vega's 1987 album Solitude Standing. Its catchy melody spanned the world after British dance music duo DNA remixed the track in 1990 and created a global smash hit.

Hearing the song being hummed unexpectedly on that rainy morning transported me back to the summer of 1987 when I first heard it and soon afterwards attended a performance by Vega at the small outdoor amphitheatre in London's Regent's Park.

In my younger days I listened to a fairly wide spectrum of music. Today, there are only four contemporary - and still active - musical artists that I follow closely. Suzanne Vega is one of them.

I've been fortunate to see her in concert at various stages of her career, and to have collected each of her albums as they have been released. My life has been enriched as a result.

Standing in a stone-walled bus shelter with rain clattering all around, it was uplifting to hear a stranger hum the refrain of Tom's Diner. Great tunes take on a life of their own, and you never know where you'll encounter a sweet musical memory.

The rain stopped and we got on our bikes and rode off in opposite directions. I now had Tom's Diner echoing in my mind as I headed for work where at least one of my colleague has the "do do do do" part of Tom's Diner set as a cell phone ringtone.

Below is a video of Suzanne Vega performing the original a cappella version of Tom's Diner. You can hear the more widely known DNA remix of the track, which starts with the 'do do do do' refrain, here

The Forth Bridge

On the back cover of the soon to be released Dolphin Girl novel is this artistic image of the Forth Bridge created by book cover artist Kit Foster.

Dolphin Girl is set almost entirely in and around Edinburgh, so it is perhaps not surprising that the nearby iconic landmark features throughout the novel. Indeed, there is a short chapter entitled Forth Bridge, a passage from which appears at the bottom of this blog post.

You don't need to have visited Edinburgh, or Scotland, to be familiar with the steel bridge that spans the Firth of Forth within sight of the capital city. The cantilever bridge is one of the most enduring and picturesque representations of the country; a tin of Scottish shortbread would not be complete without an image of the bridge's three great cantilever structures.

Having spent a number of childhood years in Edinburgh, I know how this imposing marvel of the Victorian age sears itself into the mind and conscience of anyone who has viewed it from near or afar. It is anchored like an steadfast old friend in my recollections of youth.

Built between 1882 and 1890, it is 1.6 miles long and is a rail-only crossing (the nearby Forth Road Bridge for motor vehicles opened in the 1970s).

When people talk about 'painting the Forth Bridge' they are using a phrase that is shorthand for any seemingly never-ending task. This is rooted in the belief that when the bridge is repainted it is such a major and lengthy undertaking that once complete a new repaint job must commence immediately. A myth, but a well-worn one.

In recent years, when flying to Glasgow I have scanned the horizon below to pick out the distant 'humps' of the bridge which are visible from the air even from a distance of 30 or 40 miles away. There is something reassuring and timeless about the bridge.

And so, just as it proved to be for me in my younger years, the Forth Bridge is a constant background presence in the lives of the characters in Dolphin Girl. The novel is currently undergoing final readings and adjustments and is scheduled for release in April.

As an advance taster, here is a brief section from the start of the Forth Bridge chapter.

Katrina lowered her eyes and contemplated the choppy waves a hundred feet below in the river that thought it was a sea. Even at such a distance the cold water reached up with invisible hands chilling her face. She looked away and up towards the soaring magnificence of the Forth Bridge, a marvel of the Victorian age. Its rugged splendor matched the wilderness it adorned. It belonged and it was hard to imagine a time before, or to come, when the railway bridge would not stand sentinel over the Forth’s murky waters.
Standing inside the belly of the three-humped red monster she was a lost ant buffeted by the incessant wind whistling and swirling through this steel behemoth.