April 30th 2014

 

Now I like rats as much as the next man, but there comes a time when in the process of clearing out the house before the new owners move in when rats become the bane of my life. Now we knew rats were in the garden over winter, in fact two or 3 years ago I used to feed one of the rats packet noodles, most entertaining watching them hoover up the pasta. But, they do spread disease and can do a lot of damage. Saying that our unopened box of rat poison in the garage was eaten in February and we've not seen the rats since, so maybe they've inflicted self harm in the process.

 

However garage and noodles aside, this dilapidated shed in the garden must have been a des-res to this most adaptable but possibly most hated mammal in Britain. We'd not been in the shed for months, mainly as there is a risk it will fall on top of us, but today ahead of the move I donned some girly marigold gloves and set to in my pinny. In essence the interior of the shed contained about 200 plant-pots, 40 hanging basket frames and about an inch of rat droppings. Marvellous. In order to hasten the job (or lessen my time in the rat dropping infested shed) I hurled the plant-pots, destined for recycling, hither and yon out the door, much as a dog digs for a bone in sand without planning or ordnance. With the shed now empty, on with the jet hose and the crumbling interior was given a thorough clean out as the new owners have young children. It was only as I emerged from the shed in a Mr Muscle pose, jet spray in one hand, marigold gloves in the other that I realised the chaos I had inflicted on the lawn. I think I'd gone a little potty!!

 

 

And so here endeth the last day of April, a month that began with my trundling up to London to see an exhibition about the Vikings, a month that then saw me in Orkney looking at where Vikings lived in the wind on that northern most island and a month that ends with my wearing of latex marigold gloves and a pinny. How my herring fishermen forefathers from Skien or ancestral reindeer herders from Lapland must be spinning in Valhalla as they look down on this modern Dane. "Mikill Wotan! Doni langaspjot viti!" is all I have to say to that!!

April 29th 2014

 

A day of April showers, longer spells of rain and a few drier moments. As oft happened on these wet days by the time the sun is setting the energy in the atmosphere is decreasing and the clouds begin to part. I watched the light intensifying as the evening advanced and thought this is a good opportunity to try and capture those images of oil seed rape fields I'd noticed around us this week as they are just perfect. So off we went. Julie drove allowing me to leap out of the car and grab the fleeting moments as they happened. To be honest I think I missed the best light by about 30 minutes as by the time I got to the locations I'd sourced earlier the sun was too low in the sky. Nonetheless the contrast between dark skies and the bright yellow of the fields remained. Time for a few quick images, I may return tomorrow if the same clouds and sun conditions prevail. Oh and the image above? I'm rarely a passenger so having a bit of fun taking photographs whilst on the move, quite like this one of speeding through Great Bedwyn main street, our local village, at 20mph.

April 28th 2014

 

Her indoors (a phrase loathed so I'm using it as only an Aries man could do in the hope I may get away with it) is a keen horsewoman and yet although I've seen her galloping over field and dale many a time, until today I'd not seen her have a lesson in a ring. I was to be found then at the Pewsey Vale Riding Centre settling myself for a clip and a clop as I call it. Blue was today's horse of choice a dun coloured young chap with some adolescent spirit, or as Sharon the instructor said, "when you canter him he'll take off, he's not stupid just likes to have his head". But Julie is a match for such high spirited equine derring-doo and after a few circles and eights, some stern words to Blue, she did some cross leg stuff I didn't understand, or at least the horse did, some cantering, a bit of stopping, and generally 40 minutes of hard work out on a composite plastic arena - Julie's wrists were apparently going like trafficators on a Morris Minor, all corrected by Sharon the instructor. I really enjoyed watching Julie do her stuff from the relative safety of the gate, very impressive for a none horseman like myself, although Blue did give me a wary look every time he passed me. I love horses but not sure they like me.

 

April 27th 2014

 

This was the view out from the back of the house at about 7.30am today, and possibly the last time in 8 hours we saw the sun. Dark clouds were brewing to the south over Andover but at least here in Wiltshire there was a smattering of sunshine. Today's forecast was for damp start with additional precipitation, occasionally heavy at times but ye gods, it came down whole water from around 8am for the remainder of the day. This image then represents one of the golden rules I've devised over the years on this planet, get up early, the light is always good before breakfast, by elevenses the day will if it can set more grim than a MacDonald's restaurant. I therefore read the Saturday papers.

April 26th 2014

 

I had a duo of thoughts today for the daily blog so providing choice to the reader, both are herewith served with a light garnish of irony.

 

Blooms garden centre near Swindon was our café of choice today. It's nice there although perilously close to the UK's in-breeding capital of Swindon (actually genetically that's Orkney - found that out on my holidays). After a coffee and a read of the papers we were on a hunt for phormiums  - spikey plants for a customer of Julie's. As she bobbed about looking for these I perused the vegetable section and alighted on this staggering creation. What in the mother of all thoughts was going on here? - grafted tomato plants, one plant, two stems, one stem red toms, the other yellow. And £7.99 per pot. This is madness gone feral. I'm all for plant breeding, even a supporter of GMO, but why-oh-why spend research effort of working out how to graft two varieties of tomato on a single rootstock. Stop the world I want to get off.

 

To recover then from this monstrous botanical moment I bought myself a Sherbet Fountain - I loved these as a child, those big sticks of liquorice, in a cardboard container that never quite let you quite get to the bottom of the sherbet before the cardboard tube disintegrated. Well now the new version is in a hermetically sealed plastic  tube with childproof stopper. Once I'd worked out how to get into it using a variety of kitchen knives, I have to say it tasted the same as the last time I'd had one of these aged about 8. But time for an experiment. Dropping half the sherbet into a glass and adding lemonade made for the most spectacular of results. Frothy man (who remembers Cresta soft drinks). Drinking the experiment was however not as exciting, like drinking fizzy sugar with a aftertaste. Extraordinary. Here endeth Saturday's view of the world.

April 25th 2014

Masterchef finalists have nothing on the culinary excellence seen here before you! A day at home doing domestic chores and a bit of lounging about watching Dirk Bogarde being a hero in a WW2 film, after all I am on a R&R holiday. By 4pm however I realised I'd only had two minute slices of toast and marmalade at breakfast. I was wasting away. Searching through the empty cupboards that I have at home, I really do need to learn how to keep cupboards stocked, I came across the following. 3 fresh tomatoes, some pasta, some cheese, a tin of sweetcorn and a carton of chopped tomatoes in mixed herbs. That'll do I thought and in it all went without any preparation, thought or planning and into the oven. Half an hour later I gave it a bit of an oscillation and applied the fresh toms and grated cheese. Half an hour after that it emerged from the oven looking quite delicious. It was, although for reasons which fail me the pasta was just the wrong side on undercooked.  Supper from an empty kitchen in the heart of Somerset. Now that's a kind of magic.

April 24th 2014

I'm rarely home during the week, especially during the day, but today I had an unexpected image for my daily blog; a passing horse and carriage. I'm in the process of decorating the back bedroom, something which I began in February and with one thing and another has been delayed and delayed. So with some days at home this week yesterday the football motif wall frieze was removed and today it was preparing the walls, which involved both filling in of holes and sanding of previously filled holes which had never been sanded down before a previous painting. A lovely job on a spring day, the birds were singing, I had the windows open wide and a relaxing few hours were to be had, prior to the first coat of 'Daffodil White'.

 

 

 



And that was to be my subject for today, decorating. However at about 11am a horse and carriage passed by along the lane behind the garden. I get many horses coming along here as I'm on a lane which just a few yards away becomes unspoilt North Somerset Levels farmland all the way to the coast. I've not seen a carriage before. Two hours later I heard it return and so with paintbrush in one hand and as I happened to have the camera beside me a very hasty snap taken out of the bedroom window just in time. A handsome setup I think you'll agree, and a much more interesting posting than the excitement of discussion the merits of watching emulsion paint dry.

April 23rd 2014

 

I love gardening but take absolutely no notice of rule books, guide books or any other form of tuition, in me gardening is organic, plants either live or they die, its as simple as that. Earlier in the year I began taking up the monstrous decking that the previous owner had recently lain down at huge expense. Personally decking should be subject to a restraining order. Not only is a third of the garden taken up by a huge conservatory (another pointless carbuncle that is uninhabitable 4 months of the year as its so cold) but another third of the garden was laid to decking, including 28 concealed lights (which have never worked as water had got into the electrics) and before I arrived a hot tub - most entertaining for the people walking along the lane at the back of the house no doubt. The first section of decking to be removed left a carcass of timber which before I removed that I thought would make goodly raised beds. Today then sees the first planting in these raised beds, 3 outdoor tomatoes, 11 broad beans and 7 purple sprouting broccoli, all purchased today from Cleeve Nursery. Not having a greenhouse nor the patience to wait, they're in the ground. If it's too early to plant out and there's a frost, tough, they should just man up and grow!!

April 22nd 2014

 

Well all I can say is I'm living life in the culinary fast lane today, Marshalls Macaroni Cheese in a bag, purchased a week ago in Tesco's, Thurso. Everywhere I went up in Caithness and Orkney Macaroni Cheese was on the menu, both as a savoury dish but also as a creative gem of a macaroni cheese pie. I tried a small one of these pastry creations from heaven and well to be honest, I'd prefer a nice salad sandwich. It wasn't unpleasant just very odd to taste, pasta and pastry in a single mouthful; interesting. Yet up north in Scotland Macaroni Cheese is a staple diet, I have never seen so many different packets and ways of making a pasta based savoury dish. It had to happen, I bought half a dozen of these bad boys for friends and myself. Tonight having finally reached my return home destination of Somerset, I decided to have a final Scottish meal to celebrate the road trip. And do you know what even though in preparation it looked fairly grim (see below) the finished product was very acceptable. It helps of course that it is one of my favourite pasta dishes anyway.

 

Mid way through the experiment, sorry cooking 

Voila - an acceptable supper dish - Bon appetite

April 21st 2014

 

It's not everyday one comes across a rat playing a fiddle, yet today on a walk along the Kennet and Avon Canal that is exactly what I saw, in graffiti form of course. We were walking from Wilcot to Woodborough through the Pewsey Vale in wonderful warm sunshine and came across this concrete hut in the middle of nowhere. Alongside the usual inane graffiti of "Daz Woz Here" a much more creative art form had been added in the form of 2 rats, 2 bottles and a scroll with the words

 

"Roll Call

For all those of

us, who haven't

made it this far

Rock on in heavens

Waiting room"

 

Interesting stuff and a search on-line has failed to find out if these are lyrics or some words or prose. Therefore I must assume the author of the graffiti has produced original works. I don't advocate graffiti yet there are times when clever self expression works. On Orkney I saw the Viking graffiti in Maeshowe, which like all such scribbling's down the centuries said nothing more startling than "Tholfir Kolbeinsson carved these runes high up" or more prosaic "Thorni made love  [I kept it clean it is just one word]. Helgi carved". Nothing changes, people will be people and always want to leave a legacy and just say it how it is or how it was.

April 20th 2014

 

The arrival of Easter Sunday can mean but one thing, the arrival of the Easter egg. For me Easter has always been a most important time of the year, not just because of the holiday but it is a time of the year when I have always felt alive. Coming out of winter and feeling the strengthening sunlight on my skin, the vivid greens, yellows and blue skies of the landscape have always made me feel uplifted after the winter months. Also not enjoying summer temperatures, I find this time of the year a perfect time of the year for me weather-wise. Many Easters of my childhood were spent on Holy Island where my parents, sometimes with friends, would either stay at the Northumberland Arms (Now the Ship Hotel) or take a cottage for a week or so. Consequently my earliest memories of Easter are islands, sea, sand, sun and then on Easter Sunday opening eggs and that made it all special. Later in life my mother bought a static caravan in Rothbury and Easter was usually the first long stay in the Coquet Valley, which down the decades had the most profound effect on my thinking and of whom I am. The Coquet Valley is home, and to a small part this can be as a result of my enjoying Easter in the spring sunshine up there. As I open my Lindt Easter Egg today it will take me back to the rippling river Coquet on a warm April of my childhood. Both are a pleasure to be enjoyed.

April 19th 2014

 

Today was a rest day. After 10 days on the road today I craved a quieter day. Thus after an early start to Bedwyn for some bread at the village bakery and the papers we pottered about having a leisurely day, which also included going out for a coffee. Returning for a late lunch I sat down for a read of the Daily Telegraph. There on the first page of the Weekend section an article about Amanda Owen, better known as @Yorkshireshepherdess on Twitter. I follow Amanda's photographs on Twitter and they are absolutely stunning, but I knew little about her. Now she has a book out which I can imagine is worth a read, I shall grab a copy as and when I can. This is where social media plays tricks, just because on occasions Amanda and I chat via Twitter I feel I know her, so to see her in the Telegraph felt like a friend being interviewed, even though I have never met her. An interesting story nonetheless and living in a location called Ravenseat adds a certain romanticism to it. A hardy lot these Yorkshire shepherdess's.

 

Read the article here : http://www.telegraph.co.uk/women/womens-life/10771973/Amanda-Owen-Yorkshires-tweeting-shepherdess.html

April 18th 2014

 

My first full day back down south saw Julie and I head off to the annual Lambourn Open Day in surprisingly enough Lambourne in Berkshire. This is my first time here and it is an opportunity on a Good Friday to visit about 25 racing stables in the morning and then in the afternoon a country fair takes place with an equine theme. As a way to relax on a Good Friday it was excellent made all the more enjoyable with the bright sunshine all day. After 10 days in Scotland and northern England in windy conditions it was a pleasure to be back in calm warm conditions down south.  Best part of the day? Seeing the Household Cavalry perform some exquisite manoeuvres on horseback which even for a non rider such as myself it was an exceptional display of man and horse in harmony.

 

 

 An arty photo from me - Julie and I in the eye of the horse

April 17th 2014

 

Who's eaten all the pies, or today the Simnel cake?  This afternoon I had to head south as tomorrow I'm going to the Lambourn Open day in Berkshire so there is no staying put up north for me, although it is tempting these days. My drawstrings back north now are pulling me ever stronger and I can't see it being long before I up-sticks again and head back permanently. After a quiet morning which also involved driving hither and yon looking for a lawnmower for my parents (long story), lunch and a mammoth photo viewing session, I planned to leave East Boldon about 4.30pm. Maundy Thursday is possibly the worst time to travel long distances as everyone is shooing about for Easter. I have learnt though that if I leave Tyneside around tea time as most people have completed their journey's by then I can be home around 10/11pm given the right traffic conditions. But before I set off the ceremonial slicing of mums Simnel Cake. Delicious it is too, which is why my father is guarding over it.

 

 

Leaving East Boldon at 4.45pm and apart from a quick stop for fuel I drove in one hop, arriving at East Grafton in Wiltshire at 10.04pm (it always takes about 5 hours driving). And there to prove it my mammoth journey comes to an end. I'd set the trip recorder on Friday 4th April as I left home and now I'm home having driven to Orkney and back, 2,090.1 miles in total, or an average of 150 miles a day. And do you know what I'd do it all again tomorrow if anyone askes me.  

 

 

Hats off too to my wonderful Suzuki Swift DDIS. This small town car is meant to be for local journeys, well Mr Suzuki you have produced a fantastic long distance cruiser. Okay if there were 4 of us it would struggle as it has a small engine and boot but on my own, it was willing, comfortable (no aches or pains at all) and above all, averaged 67mpg - now that's worth celebrating, well done Suzi Grey, I hope you enjoyed visiting the Northern Islands too.

 

April 16th 2014

 

I spent today catching up with my long-long term friend Andrew. We've known each other since junior school and considering we have both turned 50 this year, that's a long time. With my being away south now we tend to catch up as much as we can, usually though we are with other people. So today it was a treat for the two of us to just have an afternoon alone, just like old times. He had to take his mother to hospital in the morning so after that he and I hot footed it to the Sage in Gateshead, the North East's premier music venue. I like it here very much as it symbolises how the region has gone from being vibrant but essentially dominated by heavy industry and mining to a multi-cultural sink for new industry and culture. The Newcastle-Gateshead landscape is possibly the best in Britain after London and Edinburgh. After all where else in one afternoon could one find, Crème Scotch Eggs (with our associated footwear in vision), a concourse offering free acoustic music, a millennium 'eye' bridge that opens for a passing sailing ship or a view along a river steeped in history but modernised.

 

In the evening after more chat to my parents and some food, Andrew and I denizened the Grey Horse public house in East Boldon. It was from here that on Friday nights of old the teenage Andrew and I, plus associated hangers on, would arrive to celebrate the weekend. It has never changed, except tonight I could walk home as my parents now only live 200 metres away along Front Street.

April 15th 2014

 

Travelling home day today, a long hop from Balmacara where I was staying to Tyneside, which in a moment of madness I decided to take the scenic route from Skye via Fort William, Loch Lomond, Stirling and Edinburgh. An interesting choice given that I left the Balmacara Hotel at 10 am and arrived at the Ingram Valley in Northumberland at 6.30pm. By 3pm I'd only reached Stirling as I had completely underestimated the up hill, down dale way of the roads along the west side of Scotland. One HGV and everything slows to a crawl plus today many a roadwork added to the feeling of will I ever get there. The scenery however is absolutely stunning and that made it worth while, but this is still very much slow driving, not for the driver in a hurry. I had a whole day to travel the 318 miles which AA Routemaster estimated at 7 hours and 30 minutes; quite accurate as I had two stops on the way, Glen Coe and Dobbies Garden Centre in Stirling. At around 6pm with the weather perfect, and as I was passing the sign for the Ingram Valley I had to stop. I spent an hour here reflecting on the week just gone and the remarkable thing is that up until this point for 10 days I had been almost continually in vast rural landscapes, either in Orkney, Caithness or Skye. Now I was in Northumberland which is home for me, nowhere else on the Planet says home like north Northumberland does. 

 

By 8pm I was back on Tyneside which was lovely to be back chatting to my now ageing parents. They miss me, I miss them and the pull of their own Tempest Fugit is making each departing for the south quite difficult these days. I miss Skye too, so I wonder if someone is using the Isle of Ornsay phone box again tonight to ring home?

April 14th 2014

 

 

I can not remember the last time I used a public telephone box, many of which are now either derelict or as in southern England used as hosts for defibrillator machines. Tonight however I rang Julie from this call box, and a well spent 60p it was too. This box is on the Isle of Ornsay on the Sleat peninsular of Skye. I've spent a day on Skye enjoying what can only be said to be an absolutely perfect April weather. Blue skies, hardly any wind and warm. Perfect. I used to come to Skye a lot in the 1980's but on moving down to Somerset in 1993 that all stopped. I have not been on the island for certain since the bridge opened in 1996 and so it was with some excitement that I planned to cross today. Before then a nostalgic stop at the old Kyle of Lochalsh ferry slipway. With a new road to the bridge Kyle has become much more touristy. I remember my last visit here in 1991 and it felt like a busy port with booths and kiosks everywhere. Yet today this is a quiet backwater bypassed by everyone except those who remember. There was something magical about getting the ferry to Skye but I can see how the bridge has opened up many opportunities for the locals. As was said in my favourite film Local Hero "one can't live on scenery alone".

 

 

Skye has changed and I think for the better. It is not quite as wild and economically depressed as it once was but it is very much an island way of life, with the economic benefits of a permanent crossing. Back in 1985 I stayed for 2 weeks here at the Harlosh House Hotel at Harlosh to the north of Skye. Sadly this closed in the late 1990's when the owners divorced. That is a shame as back then it was a superb hotel, the owner Peter was a fantastic chef who only cooked one sitting, if the hotel was full it was closed to non residents. I remember having a lobster here which Peter asked at breakfast if we would like to have in the evening, if we did he's pop down to the Loch and get one. I shared it with a with a couple from Edinburgh and it was an absolutely delicious meal. It's sad in a way to return to a place of such fond memories and to see it lying empty, wallpaper falling off the walls. Will someone take it on I wonder, for it is in an idyllic spot. 

 

My day on Skye ended on the Isle of Ornsay. I love the Sleat peninsular and have stayed here a few times. Tonight with the sun setting there was nothing else to do but stop a while and partake of my last Scottish supper of this trip at the Eilean Iarmain hotel. Haggis for starter, venison for mains and all washed down with a Red Cuillin beer from the Isle of Skye Brewery. A perfect way to end my Scottish holiday. And the phone box was a flight of fancy too - if anyone knows the ending of Local Hero, they will understand. 

April 13th 2014

 

Heading south into the rain sodden highlands today.

 

In the good old days, Scotland on a Sunday was empty. Everyone observed the Sabbath and everything was shut. I'm glad to say that although some of the trappings of modern life have reached this far north there is still a presence of tranquillity on the seventh day. To add to this feeling of emptiness after a week of near unbroken, albeit windy, sunshine on Orkney the forecast for today was for a heavy rain to cover the Highlands of Scotland. Ohh good, a perfect day then to drive from Thurso to Skye. As I left Thurso the wind was still picking up and so I spent an hour on the beach trying to capture the noise of the waves and the wind. It was only 9am but already dog walkers were huddled against the fury of the breeze to exercise their dogs. Images can never portray the sheer effort needed here to remain upright and take a few photographs.  I returned to the car and bade a farewell to the wild Atlantic, next stop Achnasheen

 

Achnasheen (Below) holds a very dear place in my heart. It is about half way between Inverness and the Kyle of Lochalsh and contains absolutely nothing. And yet, in 1980 I stayed here with my parents and their friends for a night. In those days the Achnasheen Hotel stood hard by the railway line; dinner involved gazing across the brown peat stained water jugs to the windswept tracks just 10 feet away, beyond which a pyramidal coal pile blew dust into the river. I think you'll agree an excellent choice for accommodation while masticating a haggis or two. Sadly this hotel burnt down in the 1990's and was never rebuilt, possibly as absolutely nothing recommends this village to the passing tourist, yet they have their own website, and I love coming back here. Don't ask me why.

 

But this had to be one of the best hotels I've ever stayed in. Mad as a box of Arbroath Smokies but a hotel with life to it. On arriving at Achnasheen, which in those days meant 80 miles of single track roads with passing places, we were met by a dead sheep legs in the air by the Welcome to Achnasheen sign. The view below is of that very spot (the new road is now to the right). After our evening meal we went for a summer perambulation around the derelict train yard and gazed longingly at the Antiques and Brick-a-Brack shed, the only shop in the village, before returning to the Hotel for a wee dram. It was here while in the residents lounge the Hotel owner came in and asked if we minded if the local shepherd slept on the sofa. Assuming this meant later in the evening, we were mistaken and in walked a rough hewn man with his collies who promptly curled up and fell asleep. Apparently he had walked a number of miles over the hills to the Hotel for a drink and it being a wild night, and he being slightly worse for wear, he didn't fancy the walk back until dawn. True to his word in the morning he was gone and so were we to Balmacara, my next stop in 2014 too.

 

Interestingly in 1990 one of my course colleagues on my degree at Newcastle University came from here. I asked her where she lived and Fiona (can't remember her surname) said, ohh the estate there, we own about 150,000 acres all about. Small world in a possibly large way.

April 12th 2014

 

One should always respect the sea, I know I do and that's why I had broken sleep last night worrying about todays crossing. Originally I'd planned to get the 16.45 sailing back to Scrabster today. But on Wednesday looking at the weather forecast something made me think, best to get off Orkney earlier Andrew. I'm glad I did change my time to cross as at the time of my first choice this afternoon, Storm Force 10 weather warnings were out for Orkney, with sustained wind in the mid 30mph's and gusting at 60mph with sea state, High to rough or very rough. That wasn't on the forecast. Changing to a 09.00hrs crossing was a godsend. Even boarding the ferry at 9am the Captain said because the storm had passed over last night there was a sizeable swell out at sea, to quote "We'll be pitching past Hoy and rolling in the Pentland Firth, I recommend you find a comfortable seat and remain there". As it turned out the crossing was choppy yes but only 3 or 4 times did the boat move in anything other than a rolling motion - one of those moments being when some chaps playing dominoes lost them all on the floor followed by much muttering. Even with a gentle swell we were 25 minutes late into Scrabster, which considering this is a 90 minutes crossing was a sign of what was to come. As I drove off I looked at the people parked up for the return trip to Orkney, little did they know.

 

Back on dry land I spent the day exploring the Caithness and Sutherland coastline and as I did it became obvious the wind was picking up quickly. By the time I took this image below I'd almost been blown over on the beach by a gust. Some gust to move my 18 stone. I began today's posting by saying one should always respect the sea - my grandfather told me that. It is also why I always put money in the RNLI boxes - for it is Captains like the ferry MV Hamnavoe Captain MacCloud who are out there in all weathers keeping us safe, no matter how atrocious the weather becomes, and when something happens, its the RNLI who come out, brave souls and three cheers for them.

 

April 11th 2014

 

I like reasonable isolation, but if I'm honest I'm not sure I could live on Orkney. This sounds whingey but it's not, and it is not against Orkney. I think its islands. I'm just not an island person. I love going to them but after a day or so start to become slightly mad and crave something different after having driven down the same road for the sixth time. That said I love Orcadians, I've rarely come across a more biddable and friendly set of people, without exception. Pop into a local shop for a pint of milk and 3 hours later you're still in there gossiping. The Hotel I am staying at is run by Ivy and Aln who can both trace their ancestry back to Viking times. True Orcadians and I'm very happy here. It is however quite an eccentric hotel, and for that I love it even more. For example to get into the restaurant one has to either go through the public bar, and by through I mean walk behind the bar, or for the less intimidating option, exit the hotel and walk all the way round to the back of the hotel entering via the carpark. I love this sort of thing, there is far far too much Corporate Blandness in hotels these days. Food good, bedroom excellent and such a comfy bed. Best of all was the chat.

 

The top photo is an Orkney Chair made by Aln. Traditional Orkney chairs were made from drift wood and straw for the backs, curved round to keep the draft out. Apparently the longer you sat in the chair the more comfortable it became as the straw molded to your body. The second image is one of Aln's shields and axes from his performance of the Yaarl, a smaller form of Up Helly Aa, also in Shetland. Last night Aln and I chatted about Orkney when he was having a break from his public bar duties to shoot some insulin before scrambled egg on toast. A detail not relevant but I like minor details. It's quite heavy that axe and Aln told me the chainmail can weigh 2 stones. What staggered me is that every year a new costume has to be made and bought by each individual in the Yaarl, in the region of £750. Those taking part in Up Helly Aa can pay over £1500 a year. The chair and shield are here as an example of my thoughts on island life, especially this far north. It's dark for 3 months of the year and so Aln makes chairs or takes part in Festivals. They all do, as a celebration that sunlight is returning, because in reality they're struggling with the lack of daylight. Really the modern man on Orkney, despite all the trappings of modern living, is no different to the pre Neolithic man on Scara Brae below. Seasons, day-length and the never ending wind define his character and his social life.

April 10th 2014

 

Today I stumbled across a real gem of a museum, the Kirbuster Farm Museum in the middle of nowhere on Orkney. I'd driven past the sign in the morning so on the return leg headed there. It was about to close for an hour for the custodian to have her lunch but she said I could look around then by all means enjoy the gardens and she'd be back at 2pm. What a fascinating place. The above picture is of a 16th Century farmstread that was still lived in in the 1960's. Two remarkable things about this, firstly it is the last remaining 'firehoose' left intact and un-modernised in Orkney and contains the only known house in Northern Europe still to have its central fire and neuk bed in their original state.  The central fire is in essence a stone wall in the middle of the room, peat is burnt and the smoke escapes via holes in the ceiling, no chimney. Given today was a sunny day it was an artists dream as strong sunlight illuminated the peat-fire smoke. Also in this room is the Neuk Bed - huge slabs of stone creating a chamber to lie in. What I find remarkable with this is that go to any pre history house on Orkney, such as the 5,000 year old Scara Brae and you will see a nuke bed of sorts next to a central fire. Handing down the skills from generation to generation on the island and in doing so this can make history seem real on this remarkable island. On top of that where else in Britain would the custodian of a museum allow me to cook some Heinz ravioli for my lunch while leaving me to run amok. They're all slightly mad Orcadian people, but mad in a way I love and which actually makes them quite sane. They have quality of life just right.