Marooned on an island
A very, very long time ago, when I was about 19, I went for a month to Southern Ireland. It was all part of an exploration group and one of the projects was to catch and ring storm petrels on a depopulated island off the Dingle Peninsula. Blasket Island it was called. Local fishermen took us across to the place in their fragile looking coracle style rowing boats. It was arranged they return after three days. High winds kept them away for a further three days. Real Robinson Crusoe stuff. No radio and mobile phones wouldn't be invented for another 25 years.Trapping and gutting rabbits, eating shellfish,(which I loath), were the order of the day.
( MaxineBasset Betty Basset Bombs are Better, Sun 2 Mar 2014, 9:10, 5 replies)

fascinating.

( janet aylia y'all motherfuckers need jesus, Sun 2 Mar 2014, 9:42, closed)

You stranded yourself on an island in the north Atlantic without a radio or contingency supplies?
Darwin's Law defied once again. I hope at least that your cunt or balls are barren.
( Dr. Shambolic je suis charlie, Sun 2 Mar 2014, 9:51, closed)

I like this

( rofl harris, Sun 2 Mar 2014, 10:34, closed)

I bet it's more fun to remember it now
Than it was to experience it at the time. Have a click.
(Kliper Filllets Getting noticed by twats on the internet since, Sun 2 Mar 2014, 11:27, closed)

Still called Blasket Island, acksherly
(CIIJASIIE Fanny Scratching in Cock Lane, Sun 2 Mar 2014, 16:30, closed)