OOPS! THE year has not started well.

First, the mayor takes me to task for being 'harsh' and then Cllr Martin Hodge, a councillor I've great respect for, had another go.

When we met there was fire in Martin's eyes. "Listen Robert, I spoke to highways and the police traffic department and they're both satisfied that double yellow lines are not required at Mathill! What more can I do?"

Fair cop, Martin, but I stand by my argument.

In fact, after we'd sort of 'buried the hatchet' over coffee, on my way home I counted five cars parked between Park and Longcroft Avenue.

Being alone in the car, oncoming traffic wasn't visible so speed was reduced to 'dead slow ahead'.

Two cars coming down the hill (far too fast as it happens) had to slam on their brakes because even though they had the right of way, I was committed and couldn't go astern because of close traffic behind me.

As the first driver watched me pass he glared hard in my direction. The 'lady' in the second car indicated with two fingers that there were more cars behind her... at least I thought that's what she meant.

She was wrong because after she'd passed the road was clear. Ah well!

Enough Curtis! The year's only days old and you've already upset Torbay's top politicians.

Stick to saltwater stuff!

BEING something of an ol' grump, I'm not really into party hats or Christmas cracker jokes.

However, my niece made me smile over the festive season.

"Uncle Rob, you must be good at riddles. Do you know the answer to this one? A man living alone watered his plants, switched out the light and left the house. That night 20 people died. Why do you think that happened?"

I didn't have a clue. "He was a lighthouse keeper. Get it?" She smiled. OK, she got me. But I didn't have the heart to tell her that these days lighthouses are mostly unmanned.

My aging mind drifted back to before GPS and radar, when coastal seafarers used lighthouses like 'milestones' to make a safe passage.

Passing Berry Head, the compass course was shaped for Start Point and then westwards towards the Eddystone before reaching Cornwall's Lizard.

The next step would be rounding Land's End lighthouse and, depending on the weather, if bound for Bristol Channel ports we'd steer for Pendeen and then Hartland Point.

If the cargo was destined for Liverpool or, perhaps, Preston Docks a line on the chart would be marked to pass five miles west of the Smalls Lighthouse off the Pembroke coast.

Bound for Ireland, Wexford's Tuskar Lighthouse would be aimed at if the discharge port was Dublin, Newry, Belfast or Londonderry.

If the cargo was destined for a west coast port like, Limerick, Galway, or Sligo, then the Fastnet Rock, just south of Cape Clear would be the first Irish point of contact.

Coastal mariners considered lighthouses to be beacons... the ultimate means of making a safe passage.

In my years at sea, only once did a lighthouse let me down.

Early one September morning, bound for Jersey's St Helier, we suddenly came out of a fog bank and there, in the semi-darkness, about half a mile ahead, loomed a great lump of black cliff.

Instinct told me it must be Grosnez Point on the northwest tip of Jersey... but where was the light?

By strange coincidence, Grosnez's characteristics were the same as Berry Head light (flash twice every 15 seconds).

Great sighs of relief when Jersey Radio reported that, for technical reasons, Grosnez light was temporally extinguished.

Perhaps I should have inquired if the lighthouse keeper had watered the plants and left home. Well... perhaps not!

THE beautiful coastline stretching from Start Point towards the distant curve of Portland Bill is utterly tranquil... a yachtsmen's paradise.

Well, it is with a soft breeze blowing, but on a wild, stormy night sensible mariners study their charts and seek a safe place to a find a sheltered anchorage.

Guide books and tourist leaflets, however, offer very little information about how this wide expanse of water is also one of the most infamous maritime graveyards around the UK coast.

For instance, during the Second World War, on a single April night, Allied servicemen training for the invasion of Normandy were attacked by German E-boats, and more than 600 US servicemen were killed.

Going further back, in World War One, during the first hours of 1915, German U-boats torpedoed and sank HMS Formidable.

Consequently, more than 500 British seafarers perished in the cold waters of Lyme Bay.

Two ships from the naval squadron attempted to recover survivors from the stricken battleship but darkness, deteriorating weather and damaged life rafts hampered the rescue operation.

By some miracle of nautical coincidence, the Brixham fishing smack Provident (BM291) was trawling in the area and 32-year-old skipper William Pillar and his small crew suddenly found themselves deeply involved in the frantic rescue.

You can't practice coming alongside a tiny, waterlogged boat packed with 70 desperate men, in mountainous seas, and yet there was never any thought of not trying.

Skipper Pillar had quiet faith in his judgement and, while acknowledging the limitations of his vessel, knew that his crew would respond like true mariners.

If necessary, they would try again and again.

Foremost in the fishermen's minds was the certainty that in these stormy conditions, if they failed, good men would surely perish.

After several attempts, skipper Pillar skilfully manoeuvred the cumbersome Provident close enough to throw a line to the overcrowded lifeboat and drag the men onboard.

Although history duly recorded BM291's endeavours back in 1915, last Saturday, almost 95 years to the day after the event, the port of Brixham, together with descendants, old friends, Torbay's dignitaries and ordinary folk, gathered at the Fishermen's Mission to acknowledge the act of outstanding seamanship by the Provident's crew, William Pillar, William Carter, John Clarke, Daniel Taylor and acting-cabin boy, nine-year-old Leonard 'Cher' Pillar.

'Proper job!'