N OT THAT I'M a geologist or in any way somewhere near as grand as anything that could in any way be described as technical but I do take an interest in the natural world and after my piece last week concerning the fact we might, just might, have something coming — "It's all good, dawg" — I started to give nature and its imperious nonchalance some very serious thought.

Previously I have described our movement forward, to flourishing expectations yet to come, as a snowball rolling downhill, gathering speed and momentum. This, I have decided, is much too scientific an allegory to use as a way of illustrating our efforts to improve the town.

Suddenly I have become much more poetic in my attempts to describe the forward thrust of our continuing attempts to raise ourselves out of our present and much-maligned doldrums into a bright and prosperous future.

Imagine if you will the tiny trickle of a mountain rivulet. Just a trickle you must understand, from deep within some as yet unknown reservoir but it represents the nascent idea of improvement. Fresh and clear without any shadow of a doubt but a trickle nonetheless. But as this trickle descends, as water is oft times wont to do, it gathers surface water around it, which could be construed as those around us sensing that this trickle, given the right environment to grow, could well become a small stream.

Now we have a tiny stream, powerful in its little way but certainly not big enough to make any impact on the environment. Then comes rainfall in the shape of brilliant ideas with the funding to carry them out and it begins flooding into our tiny stream. Crikey, we are suddenly starting to take on all the aspects of a river.

Don't get too excited mind, it's not easy and a lot can happen. Our little river has to grind itself endlessly against the rocks of feasibility studies and public outcry to gain any sort of momentum but still, in the immutable passage of time, it slowly wears away these obstacles. It forges its own path.

Now we really are a river and quite possibly in full flood, picking up all sorts of the inevitable flotsam and jetsam as we travel. These are represented by the ideas and influences of any number of outside concerns, which think they know better than we the course we ought to take. Some of them, the good ones, we will carry downstream with us on the surge of our ever-growing confidence. Some will naturally be discarded and, quite rightly too, left to wither and die as unwanted on the steep banks of our ever-forward movement.

Now our river can smell the salty tang of the sea and knows that without doubt it is almost home. It spreads out into an estuary and flexes its watery muscles, dragging even more good ideas and interested parties into its sphere of influence.

Suddenly what started out as only a mere trickle has become something to be reckoned with, something wide and sweeping, embracing a magnificent host of innovation. What is more, as this unstoppable force sweeps into the harbour that is its rightful heritage, what should confront it but the very first visit of the sea-cat ferry, one of the most important facets to make our future prosperity assured. Suddenly the whole passage from that initial trickle down to the sea is a journey well worth the effort.

And if that isn't poetic then blow me down, I will be a close relation, through their mother or father, to a child from the Netherlands!

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IT WAS only a couple of weeks ago, during the terrible spell of weather we had that I mentioned how everybody seemed to pull together through the adversity and lend each other a helping hand. Community spirit was alive and well in Ilfracombe, which was no surprise to us of course but came as a distinct shock to those around us who perpetually look down their noses at our town.

Well, it would appear we have done it again by coming up trumps for the poor unfortunates in Haiti who are suffering terrible deprivation after the recent earthquake. Thanks to sterling efforts by members of the Rotary Club, including its tireless secretary, Erica Castle, four shelter boxes are soon to be winging their way to that benighted country.

The thing is, although I have heard of these boxes before I just didn't realise the scale of components that go into making one of them up. I thought it was just a couple of tins of baked beans, a toilet roll or two and some bars of chocolate. Silly me!

Shelter boxes turn out to be a complete infrastructure for survival, giving all the basic necessities for day to day living but also the means to push forward during the difficult times of reconstruction that lie ahead. They must seem almost like a miracle to any poor soul who is unlucky enough to be faced with such a disastrous situation.

Once again, through the help of the Rotary Club, Ilfracombe has come up trumps and shown itself in its true colours. It may well just be me being petty but I start to wonder just how much those who constantly snipe at our town in one way or another actually contributed to this humanitarian catastrophe. Just how deep did they dig into their pockets?

Let's keep the ball rolling people. Let's find the way to raise enough for another four of those life saving boxes. Let's do it for ourselves but just as important, let's do it to show what it means to be Ilfracombe!