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Monday,
October the something.
Being on holiday is
nice have already forgotten what the date is. Arriving in pitch darkness
as seems to be our habit when going on holiday caused the usual but not
insurmountable navigational problems. This time we commended ourselves
that we only had to back-track once to find the track down to the house.
The track had cleverly
been disguised by situating it in a 'passing place' on a bend. Forgetting
my road signs in the pitch dark I had failed to spot the three tiny broken
lines which distinguished the car width track entrance from the edge of
the passing place (ditch) House is a converted crofters cottage and was
pitch black on arrival so finding door difficult.. Headlights shining
behind me I made my way towards what might be door and as I put the key
in the lock, I hoped it was the right cottage. For such an old house and
big key, door opened remarkably easily.
From then on it was
a race for me to make the place warm and cosy before SYD and SED decided
we'd dragged them to the far western end of the planet as some form of
torture and not a relaxing get away from the rat race, stresses and strains
of recent city life.
Heating for the cottage
consisted of three little fan heaters which worked wonderfully and beds
had (thankfully) electric blankets. Airing beds in West Coast accommodation
is both recommended and for me an important psychological boost to the
rest of the holiday. Fearing I might overload the electricity to the house
whilst draining the local power station in an unacustomed surge of demand
I put all three blankets on, made the beds, turned on lamps instead of
harsh overhead lights, made cups of tea and generally got the place looking
like we'd been there for days, all within half an hour.
Meanwhile, SYD and
SED had found tv (damn! there is one) the remote control, bagged their
seats and slumped into couch potato mode as if they had been plucked from
one house and dumped in another. They were happy. SO was happy carting
bags, bedding and some food into cottage and I was happy. SED and SO had
eaten on the ferry - no-one had told them about my preference for healthy
eating on holiday and as if they had premonitions of my intentions had
stocked up with chips and various other fatty saturated foods. SYD and
I chose to cook a light pasta supper in vague idea that this was a slightly
healthier option.
Stomachs full, glasses
full, we settled down for our first night in the middle of nowhere on
North Uist. Pitch black outside but warm and cosy, alcohol enhanced glow
inside.
Tuesday
morning.
Woke up, pitch black.
If it was light, think I would be able to see my breath. Heaters warm
air but as soon as they are off, the chill settles back in and surrounds
you. Pulled duvet up and went back to sleep. Woke again, this time dawn
looks like it is appearning. Condensation on window makes it difficult
to see out. Figure it's about 7:30am. Want to get up and find out where
we are.
Anywhere out of the
duvet is cold. Glad packed slippers. Put feet in them and dive over to
switch heater on. After working out the cold water has gone off, much
discussion on possible causes between SO and I (which of course mean he
has to try to track where pipes come from, work out if there is a leak
- can't possibly be frozen can they? Cold but not that cold.) There is
an ominous sign of a digger about half a mile down the road. SO decides
to go and investigate. I sit in bed wondering what worst scenarios might
befall us
1. they speak more gaelic than SO could interprete.
2. They've cut through the mains and we'll have no water all week.
SO returns. They claim it's not related to the work they are doing (all
spoken in english) and that there is a problem with the pumping station
at Lochmaddy.
SO phones water board
- call centre in Glasgow, or perhaps India or somewhere. Nice lady in
call centre seems to know where Malacleit, North Uist is so that's a bonus
- must be Glasgow. Even knows that the water will be back on by 11am by
tapping keys on computer.. Can't be bothered waiting that long to explore
my surroundings so have a quick wash and get dressed.
SED and SYD still
sleeping. They haven't quite got the hang of holidays and probably won't
before they decide that family holidays are not something they want to
do any longer anyway. Sad really. Local Co-op is only a mile or so away
and is pretty well stocked so we won't starve. Provisions bought, SO and
I made our way back to the house.
I realise, seeing
it in daylight that we are living in a really pretty cottage. Two bedrooms,
livingroom, shower room and kitchen. The thatched roof had been replaced
about 30 years ago when it was converted by a friend of SO's father but
I imagine it thatched. It is picture postcard white with blue painted
door and windows. The kitchen is a corrugated iron extension like so many
on the islands but it is well equiped. Decor pure 70's.
In the afternoon we
drove to Berneray. Once an island in it's own right but now connected
by a causeway which reminded me of the Churchill Barriers in Orkney. It
is robust. Made from solid chunks of local stone. As we drive, I wonder
where Prince Charles stayed when he came here. Does he still come here?
We drove to the end of the island as far as we could then walked across
the machair towards the beach.
It was
beautiful and very reminiscent of Luskintyre beach - even an island off
it which could have been Taransay. Very confusing apart from the fact
we could also see the bottom end of Harris so geographically it was impossible.
But white beaches, silver grey skies and aquamarine water always look
beautiful where ever they are. Weather not perfect but dry. We walked
for a few miles. Played football and bowling with old fishing floats washed
up on the beach. Realised the Island opposite had people working on it.
Then watched a speed boat skimming across the water over to the island.
Decide it is probably either MI5's hideout or a drug smuggling operation.
I love holiday's - the make creativity so much fun. It was still cold
but good to get out into the air. Even managed to dodge the showers and
got back to the car just before it started to rain again.
No getting
away from it, North Uist is bleak. How anyone can carve a living out of
the soil here is anyone's guess. Crofting in the traditional manner is
deteriorating if not pretty much non-existant now. But there must be some
farming, there are many sheep. Even the traditional Soay sheep are few
and far between. But there are birds So far have seen hundreds of greylag
geese, lapwings, oyster catchers, fieldfare, redwing and many starlings,
unidentified ducks, eiders, some birds of prey I am useless at identifying
and could be buzzard, merlin or eagle and about twenty colared doves.
Also flock of birds which look like rock sparrows but my book says they
are rare. I expcect they are something less rare. The skies and the colours
are amazing and as I sit in the car I try to compile my palette in my
head. It is predominantly made up from paynes grey, black and white with
some yellow ochre and burnt umber.
SO and
I keep forgetting to feed SED and SYD in the middle of the day when we
are on holiday. We forget they are used to grazing when they get home
from school and although their body clocks don't get them up in the morning,
they are still atuned to needing fed at regular intervals in the afternoon.
We stop at the co-op on our way past and pick up (God forbid I am a dreadful
mother!) two pot-noodles.
Wednesday
Again,
no water in the morning. Beautiful sunny day outside. Lots of low light,
long shaddows and I can't get up because having not showered for two days
I feel very much in need of sprinkling of warm water over body before
put clothes on.
Another
phone call to water board is less conclusive this time. I give up, wash
with the warm water left in the tank and get dressed. SO does the same
but as he is in bathroom, there is a knock at the door. I open the door.
Little old lady with dog. Immediately think this is strange as house at
least mile from nearest neighbour further from village and 200 yards from
road down very wet track.
Lady
proffers a clip board at me with names written on it and amounts of money
beside them ranging from £3 - £10. I think she is asking me to sponser
her for something. She barges past me into the house, muttering something
like "neighbour, dead, collection," as she does so. She is very
little. She closes the door behind her and attaches the dog's lead to
the handle, shouts "arrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrgh" at dog when it tries
to bark. I jump.
She tells
me again that she is collecting for her neighbour. I can't make out if
neighbour is dead. Is she collecting for dead neighbour, neighbour's partner
or for funeral? I am a bit confused by this mumbling little old lady but
pretend this is everyday occurrance, smile and look at clip board. Feel
less threatened because for the first time in a long while, I am taller
than someone.
She asks
if I have a pen. I say I don't know, explain we're on holiday but go to
look for one anyway. I'm in bedroom looking for pen and purse. She is
in kitchen asking for a glass of water. I explain we are having problems
with the water. She says she is too. I find handbag, invite her to have
a seat - because she's already taken her coat off!- and get her a glass
of water (which trickles very slowly out of the tap). I am now paranoid
city lady. As I go to bedroom to look for a pen again, I realise my cameras
are sitting in the kitchen, and SO's mobile phone. What if she is here
to do a reccy to see what is available to steal? I chastise myself for
having such bad thoughts in a place like this and remind myself this is
an island where no doors are locked and everyone knows everyone else.
I ask when the neighbour died but get no reply. Now feel I have totally
got the wrong end of the stick. Perhaps they have just been in hospital?
Convinced she said the word 'died'.
Purse
has no change, write my amount down and put surname next to it. Feel very
mean now. Only had £2 in change. Little old lady asks if she can use the
toilet, I explain that SO is still in - I'm sure he has his ear to the
door and is laughing at me - he can't come out as feels wandering out
in towel around waist might not be a good idea at this juncture. Shock
might kill little old lady. She puts her coat back on and says she'll
wait till she gets home. She asks where we are from. "Edinburgh" I say.
She says nothing and leaves.
That's
what I love about island life. Locals hate city folk. To her I am a city
person, even worse, an east coast city person. However, I am not really.
I was brought up in a little village and her visit reminds me what I hated
about it. I hated feeling anyone could come in your house when the felt
like it. I hated the gossip the small town attitude. But I was cursing
myself for portraying my city fears about the real reason for her visit.
She'd collected over £20 in the morning and I still had my dreadfully
sceptical ideas about what it was for. She said the neighbour would be
back on Friday. I still don't know if she means in a box and I feel bad
that she will label the folks staying in the cottage as skin flint city
types.
SO appears
with towel round him. "Who's your friend?" he laughs. Knowing the agonies
her visit will have plunged me into. I smile and try to explain what she
wanted whilst looking round to make sure the camera, phone and my bag
are there. I hate that I am a city person now and feel disloyal to my
small town roots. Later in the day, I find a little piece of heather on
the seat the little old lady sat on. I pick it up and put it on the window
sill. Eventually we persuade kids to get up and we go out.
It really
is a beautifully sunny day. We drive, stop, walk, SED and I take lots
of photos. SYD and SO walk ahead, deep in conversation. He speaks gaelic
to her, she replies in newly started italian. They are not so much conversing
as firing words like, beach, sea, shell at each other. We are all relaxed.
The sky is blue, the beach is white the sea is beautiful, the grass on
the machair is yellow and green and floaty. It is a nature reserve and
I spot fields of fieldfare, redwing, curlew, snipe, SO and I remind ourselves
this is not work. I think, this really is soooooo not work.
We head
back to the village to catch the fish van so we can buy fresh fish for
dinner.
Thursday
No bloody
water again, this time not even a trickle. The irony of the pouring horizontal
rain outside and no water inside the house has not escaped me. Have given
up worrying about how much electricity we are running up and at last feel
the stones of the walls are warming. It is still cosy inside, in a dry,
airless sort of way. There are still diggers at the bottom of the track
who claim they have not touched our water supply. There are three of them
now. I think they have multiplied in some sort of clandestine method overnight.
Not getting up. Going to finish Bridget Jones book two.
More
phone calls to water board, call centre lady in Glasgow and various no
answer sub stations on the island. Even water in toilet cistern finished
so it no longer fills. Getting stormier outside. Windows totally misted
with condensation. SO makes more phone calls then goes out for a walk.
No one offers to join him. Lady from water board calls. "Where exactly
is (our) house?" Mmm good question. We gave her a name but it transpires
it is not correct name for the cottage. But she knows it is the white
one with the blue paint and says she'll call the engineer and get him
down to us. I think she thinks we are in the rented thatched cottage.
We are not.
Digger
at end of road totally blocking track now. White van arrives with presumably
engineer in it. Digger man and white van man converse, point to the house
- all of which I can see from misted kitchen window - I can hear the sharp
intakes of breath and shaking of heads from here. Decide I'd better wash
the dishes in what water is in the basin so as not to look like total
slovenly city folk when engineer arrives. Digger moves and white van drives
down track.
I open
the door to boy I think should be in school since it is only 2:30 in the
afternoon. Then reprimand myself for being so ageist and immediately decide
I am now officially old. Engineer looks puzzled and says
"so you have no water?".
"No" I reply, turning on cold water tap to display lack of water in totally
unnecessary gesture..
"Has it been ok until now?"
"No" and I explain the lack of water on Tuesday morning, the trickle of
water on Wednesday and again absolute stoppage of H2O from the all taps
and toilet cistern. today. He looks puzzled - and even younger.
"Have you got an outside tap?"
I refrain from making obvious rude type remarks about lack of knowledge
since only on holiday and simply reply
"I'm afraid I don't know - we're on holiday here and haven't been to the
house before"
"It's just that you might have an air lock"
Frankly I didn't care what we had or hadn't I just wanted clean running
water and standing next to young man, both peering at tap as if willing
it to work, I wondered if my lack of showering was as noticible as it
felt. I took a step backwards. He said he'd get the digger men to expose
the stop tap at the end of the road and see if there was any water in
there. He assured me he'd be back to let me know what was happening. I
watched him go back down the road, talk to digger man, watched them dig
something up, watched white van engineer drive off..
Decided
little old lady has put a curse on me for only giving £2 for the dead
neighbour whom I didn't know. I contemplate putting the heather in the
bin.
Ah such
is the excitement of island life. I have been watching diggers all afternoon
and now they too have gone. I have painted, read, and written. SED and
SYD are not even dressed but have taken to reading in bed with the same
enthusiasm and singlemindedness as they would to sitting watching tv at
home. SO is still out in the rain and gales walking. My mind drifts aimlessley
to hot baths, my own comfortable bed and contemplates the fact that my
time might be better employed redecorating the hall at home. But I am
on holiday and away from all these stresses!
I see
SO return in the car. He sits at the end of the road as the digger has
dug up the track and he can't bring the car to the house. I peer from
the condensation soaked window and watch him talk to luminous yellow and
orange men. Over the next few hours there are various permutations of
luminous yellow and orange men at the end of the track. Eventually I call
SO on his mobile. He says he is waiting for the men to restore the road.
An hour
later he gets fed up, leaves car and walks down track. Nice wife, I have
a hot cup of coffee waiting - there is a bottle of drinking water in the
fridge which I emptied into the kettle. He drinks the coffee quickly.
The walk in the gales was exhausting but he bought more water, battenburg
cake and enough provisions to make dinner. I don't fancy going out as
planned - the walk to the car through mud and gales is not appealing and
I am grateful he went to the shop. Just as he finishes a slice of battenburg
cake, luminous yellow man appears down the track.
"bet he wants me to move the car" says SO.
Yep, correct.
Truck has arrived with stone chips to infill the road they dug up but
they need to get nearer and our car is in the way. SO dons soggy shoes,
wet jacket and braves the storm again. I watch from the window. He is
gone for a while. Next time I look out the road looks ok but I can see
SO chatting to the driver. I know him. He is asking the truck to test
the road first. He does. Truck drives onto track. Backwards, forwards,
backwards and .......stuck! Truck's back wheels turn and turn in the mud
and I can see the spray of mud from the house. Luckily the digger is there
to give him a handy nudge. I see SO lock the car and walk down the track.
Still
no water. Rest of the evening is spent watching all trucks, vans, luminous
men appear, disappear and reappear. We make dinner. Recycle water in the
sink to wash dishes and listen to the wind getting stronger and stronger.
A text from a friend makes SO laugh.
It reads "settled down to a nice bottle of wine- you?"
They are in the South of France for the weekend. SO can't resist phoning.
Slight paraphrasing but conversation went a bit like this...
"We are in the middle of a gale, it's p'ing down with rain, the road to
the house has been dug up by pipe layers, there is no water,my wife hasn't
had a shower since we arrived and I twisted my ankle on a walk."
Twisted ankle? Apparently SO slipped at furthest point from car whilst
on walk. Ankle made a funny crunching noise. Isn't broken and SED who
has problem ankles and knees had brought a tubigrip so I persuade SO to
wear it and rest the ankle.
Mmm quick
recap of relaxing holiday.
· No coal fire
· No central heating
· Weather almost gale force
· Digger completely decimated road to house.
· No water
· No shower/bath for three days.
Have
thrown the bit of heather in the bin.
Strangely
enough, all seem happy, must be the wine and the whisky.
9:00pm
Good news and bad news.
Luminous yellow man drove van down track - means road didn't collapse!
Delivered twelve bottles of drinking water - don't anticipate fixing the
water then?
Poor
water board man. He is still working with his luminous mates at 9pm in
gale force winds, pouring horizontal rain whilst builder pipe laying men
- who are probably responsible for problems anyway are home, tucked up
in bed. Feel v sorry for very young water board 'boy'. Offer him a dram,
even hot water but he politely declines.Expect he thinks SO and I a couple
of alcohocils. He tells us he will be working until problem is solved.
Feel even more sorry for him. Great big highland lad looking very tall
in our little sloped ceiling kitchen. Wind is gusting noisily round the
house like the engines of a steam ship. Work out why house faces wrong
way. Wind would blow windows out if faced the sea.
SYD is
painting self portrait in the kitchen. She hasn't worked in acrylics before
and demands much attention. SED and I try to offer advice but despite
wanting it, she is too stubborn to accept. Where does she get that from?
Midnight.
SO feels sorry for water board men and despite sore ankle, traipses down
track in storm with bottle of whisky and glass. I put electric blanket
on and wait for bed to heat. SO returns happy, two out of the four accepted
his dram and admitted that they don't often get offered one. Mental note
to self, write to water board and demand they make dram compulsory for
all staff working after midnight. Take my dram to bed.
Friday
October, blah blah
Still no bloody water. Going for long drive away from diggers and no water.
Getting very inventive at recycling water. SO doing trips to collect buckets
of water for toilet cistern from hole digger has made at end of track.
(Don't think mean to have water in but raining so heavily when digger
man dug trench at top of hill and linked it up to trench he'd dug at bottom
of hill, rush of water downhill and trench flooded - resembling small
stream in spate.) But it's getting slightly less muddy now. SED in teenage
fashion, refuses to go out unless she can wash her hair so use more from
hot water tank (still a little left) and soak her tresses in kitchen sink-
bathroom sink too small for all her hair. Though perhaps lingered a second
too long when pushing head down to rinse! SYD and I scrape hair back in
unflattering style (me - SYD looks good no matter what she does with hair)
Boot camp sounds more appealing than right now. Might go home early if
can change ferry booking. But reluctant to leave house with water off!
Weather
damp and grey. Go out for drive. Stop for walk to chambered cairn through
peat bogs and heather. Take a few photos but have left black and white
camera back at house as had to walk down muddy track to reach car and
didn't want to carry much. North Uist does seem to have a large share
of the world's water - just not in the cottage we're in. Look for stone
circle but don't find it! SO's ankle not up for a longer walk so head
back to car and drive to Lochmaddy for relaxing lunch in cafe.
Friday
lunch time seems to be creche time in cafe. Numerous screaming babies
and toddlers being allowed to feed sibling babies by shoving spoons of
runny ochre coloured substance in eye. Noisy lunch. Commend self for bringing
up such good children who never shouted, sreamed or had tantrums when
out for lunch. Now SED and SYD are older they sit elbows on table heads
in hands rolling eyes. Think they want to strangle noisy toddlers and
screaming babies.
Small
museum and gallery in craft/coffee shop. Interesting prints but remind
me I should at this minute be starting painting class. There is a studio
in a room behind me. Women are painting. I would like to join them but
remind self am on holiday. Buy postcards and SO gets me nice wooden puffin
desk date thingy for Christmas present, which I have to forget he's bought.
Drive to another bit of the island. Find loch full of swans. Normal orange
beak ones. Also stop to watch couple of birds of prey, think one is a
buzzard or marsh harrier or something else but not anything in my book.
Large white bar across tail but not white tailed eagle, probably buzzard.
Smaller russet brown bird may be kestrel but unless it hovers can't be
sure. Back to house and excitement of finding out if water on or not.
Meet
white van and speak to men. They are positively hedgey. Found section
of broken pipe (weight of digger laying new pipes broke old mains) replaced
it with temporary overland pipe. Park car at end of track. Repaired road
still looks too soggy to drive over. Get to house. Turn on tap... Water.
Hurrah! Dive into shower first. Am a clean city person again. Can go out
for dinner now. Persuade rest without too much trouble they are not as
clean as me and need showers. All comply with wishes. We are a clean family
again (hurrah!). Clean toilet as muddy water made it very very unpleasant
looking. Have found out that toilet duck does work. Weather getting brighter
too and windows less condensation. Maybe Uist is drying out for the weekend.
Remind self this is better than being at work. Then remember that this
is my day off and I am missing stained glass class and painting class.
Go out for dinner.
Food
good but dining room reminiscent of village hall and expect local wedding
party to arrive at any minute. Another family of four in one corner and
loud american with friends in another. Fish should be good so have scallops
and monk fish tails in basil and lemon. V good. Plenty of variety for
SED who is vegetarian but also likes fish and calories so has battered
cod. SYD and SO are carnavors and plump for what looks like a lamb leg
each. I offer to drive home - single track roads with no road markings
in pitch dark not my idea of fun but SO deserves a break and a few drinks.
Get home
in time to watch "Green Wing" then spend next half hour sitting on cold
bathroom floor administering tlc and hair holding service to SED who is
having conversation with big white telephone in corner of room. Seems
batter didn't sit well on her delicate stomach. Ghost would have more
colour than her at this point. Manage to get her to bed feeling a bit
better but with trusty basin by side - just in case. SYD protests "she's
not going to be sick again is she - I'll be sick if she does!" sympathy
runs in our family.
SED and
SYD share a room with bunk beds. Noticed earlier that sides of bunks exactly
the same as the first proper beds sister and self had when young (Vono).
Enlarged boomerang shape to stop top person falling out. I bent down to
give SED a hug - "hair trap" she mumbled and instant flash back to years
of catching strands of hair in springs above head. Springs reminiscent
of barbed wire with little bits sticking out everywhere. Guaranteed to
catch any strand of hair. Even worse, when looked at them realised matresses
exactly same colour and pattern - which makes matresses over 30 years
old! These were my beds. Somehow beds from my village on east coast had
found way thirty plus years later to even smaller village about as far
west as you could possibly go. V strange. My beds were here. (well of
course not the exact same beds, that would be silly) could feel pain of
disentangling hair and bid SED goodnight offering even more sympathy now
realised perils of sleeping in bottom bunk transferred to her as well
as feeling ill.
Go to
own bed. Electric blanket broken. Bed cold.
Saturday
Still have water (hurrah).
Sun shining. SED made it successfully through night without wakening anyone
and feeling a bit better this morning. Plan to get up early, drive as
far south as we can and do more sightseeing of lovely islands.
Spend
next hour sitting with SED on cold bathroom floor. Retching vile bright
yellow substance. Send SYD and SO out to explore lovely islands. Sun shining
for second time this week. Not down hearted. Will play at house in this
little cottage and do some washing. At least washing machine works. Do
washing. Strange domesticated streak means love sight of clean washing
hanging on line and blowing in soft west coast breeze. Pretty rainbow
in distance. Rainbow disappears. Rains.
Will
paint.
Can't
think what to paint. Have repaired last week's piece from class which
met unfortunate accident when put in portfolio case when still wet - opened
at home to admire but most stuck to portfolio case and only way to admire
was to rip off, leaving most of painted surface attached to portfolio
case. Gave a unique effect but preferred painted surface to glaring white
ripped underpaper.
Paint
scene outside window in sketch book. Grass, sky and fence. SED happily
tucked up in bed, sipping boiled, bottled water. Look out window - through
condensation. Two diggers on horizon. Look like lop sided one-legged spiders,
lurching backwards and forwards.
SYD and
SO return from Benbecula. Sun shining again.Washing blowing in wind. SED
feeling better again. SYD happy to stay in and keep sister company while
SO takes me for walk.
All the
damp weather, no water, diggers, SED being ill, disappear. Holiday from
hell now worth it for these three hours. Most beautiful cliff top walk.
Weather changes every ten minutes from grey clouds to brilliant sunshine.
Find natural arch, sandy beach, rocky inlets, sea snow (spume) blowing
in the wind high above the se like floating snowballs. Also, loads of
redwing, rock pigeons, snow bunting in summer colours and about three
other unidentified birds. Blues, greys, silvers, greens and startled scattering
sheep. I could stay here forever.
Wish
I had a tent, no responsibilities and could camp here all night. Reminds
me of honeymoon when we did camp beside the sea on machair in Harris.
Beautiful afternoon. Happy. Go back to cottage, SED feeling better. Washing
dry.
Sunday
24th October
Last full day here. Suddenly filled with sadness that after today
all the stresses and strains of the real world will return. Get up and
decide today is the day to drive down to bottom of Outer Hebrides. Usual
struggle to get delinquent teenagers up but manage eventually. Sun is
shining, rain forecast. Want to see as much in bright conditions as possible.
Drive
through, North Uist, Benbecula, South Uist and down to Eriskay. This Island
is very much a string of smaller islands strung together with a series
of causeways. The last to Eriskay only built four years ago. Perhaps Scotlands
version of the Florida Keys without the sun. We stop for the odd photo,
refer to map for detours and end up in the MV Politician, the only pub
in Eriskay. Eriskay being the Island made famous by the ship wreck of
the SS Politician in 1944 spilling it's cargo of Whisky bound for Jamaica,
procured by the locals and immortalised in the book "Whisky Gallore" by
Compton MacKenzie and film of same name.
The Islands
are beautiful. Blue skies make all the inland lochans reflect blue, the
wind whipping up the water until white horses gallop across the surface.
Long stretches of white sandy beaches line the edges or the world. MV
Politician has a pool table and it seems appropriate to have the annual
family pool challenge.
SED and
I team up, ready to thrash SO and SYD - until SYD spots the notice saying
no under 16's. I say she is supervised and thrust a cue into her hand.
SO breaks, a tense match ensues - SYD's turn after me (failed to pot)
"how do you hold it again?" she asks.
Fills me with confidence.
Suddently
most westerly pub I have been in in UK fills up - time for Celtic v's
Livingston football match! For those in the know this is a predominantly
Catholic part of the world and tradition has it that Celtic are supported
by those of Catholic denomination. (Personally don't hold to such sectarian
stereotypes). Grown men appear in green and white hooped shirts. Projector
type thing is switched on and I can see it's light shining somewhere behind
me. Spot screen about to be lowered from ceiling. Annual game of pool
normally takes a long time but as there is only ten minutes to beginning
of match SO feels obliged to take SYD's turns and I am grateful that SED
and I between us manage to pot a few balls - enough to keep the scores
fairly even. V strange to be here in what should be a relaxed and semi
historical, romantic type setting and rushing through game of pool to
ensure out of way before kick off. Dislike football even more now.
Barra
is the last Island of the Uists but requires another ferry to reach so
vow to do another time. The return journey to the cottage seems very like
the end of the holiday. Skies turn grey and rain starts, drizzle at first
but then heavy, noisy drops bouncing off windscreen. Get back to cottage
in time to do some final drawings, make dinner, savour last bottle of
wine and start packing. Very sad now. Despite everything which seems to
have gone wrong this week, I still much prefer this to working and lack
of stress. Another holiday over, another week load of photos, sketches,
writing and most of all experiences and memories.
My highlight
is the walk SO and I took yesterday and it will remain in my memory to
be replayed again and again when the pressures back home get too much.
Expect it will get more perfect every time hit the play button. That's
the good thing about memories.
Monday
October 25th
Get up
early and start packing, tidying and obligatory arguing. Hate going and
coming back from holiday. We leave house clean and tidy as we found it
- with additional pack of six bottles of drinking water from water board
for next occupant, just in case!
We drive
along towards Lochmaddy. Meet lots of cars. Mmmm maybe that means ferry
is in? Winter timetable started yesterday. Ask SO time of ferry just to
be sure. He throws timetable brochure at me and says "check yourself".
He hates leaving more than me. I check. Ferry is indeed in but will sit
for an hour. We get there in plenty time. SYD and SED squished in the
back. SO and I get out, walk around as if gasping last gulps of truly
fresh air. We walk to the point. Sun is shining. Island looks beautiful
again. Windy.
On ferry,
feel it swaying slightly. Going to be choppy crossing....groan. Not worlds
best traveller. At last minute a mini bus arrives on the pier and decants
six people - all wearing black. Men in black ties. Have been to a funeral.
Guiltily remember, little old lady said neighbour would return on Friday.
Now it is Monday and I understand.
Sail over the sea
to Skye. Ferry lurches and sways. SED, SO and SYD go for lunch - chips.
Stay upstairs on observation deck sipping tea. Waves crash over car deck,
spray soaks windows. Skye looks grey. Uist looks sunny. Want to go back.
SO and I go outside and stare across to significant Trumpan bay as we
pass. Can make out houses but not the church. Both silently lost in thoughts.
So is quiet. I kiss him.
Arrive on Skye and
drive straight south. Northern Skye is grey and rainy but by the time
get to southern end of island, weather is beautiful again and reminded
how much I like Skye. SO is not sure any longer.
We stop at Spean Bridge
to eat and head home, the next few hours driving in the dark down familiar
roads until back to the glittery lights of the city. House is soon warm
and unpacking done, mountains of mail (mostly junk) opened, washing on.
SYD calls a friend,
I catch up on reading blogs,
SED watches tv in her room,
SO reads papers with a dram.
We are spread to the
four corners of the house again. Things seem back to normal.
Well, almost, I have
another week's holiday (hurrah!)
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