A Northern Journal

Beaquoyside was a hive of activity the other weekend. A neighbour was having silage bales wrapped and a combine was  at full pelt harvesting the last barley  in this area. The thrum of engines was all around. Autumn is well and truly upon us as the leaves of the trees turn colour - brown mostly, although this year there is a bit more variation in the brown than usual. I do still miss the colour south.

It was a productive morning. I sorted my tack shed so that anything (rugs, numahs, etc) appealing to mice is in cupboards or plastic boxes (can’t fit the plastic boxes in the cupboards tho’, whilst the ponies grazed on the drying green under the washing flapping in the strong breeze. I couldn’t quite believe it at one point, Malfoy puss nonchalantly walked under Thorfinn’s belly between his back and front legs - as calm as that pony is, he could still decide to lift a leg at the cat if he got a fright. The morning had started sunny and bright but it clouded over. The coos were lying down in the corners of the field which is usually a sign of bad weather to come. Hubby mows the lawn, which means the two bizarre grass rings are cut back… any theories?

Thorf is getting quite hairy now and as I am still riding him a little before a winter lay off, he needed to have some hair clipped off… to stop him sweating too much. I just take a bit off his chest and under his neck. Wee Sigurd also was clipped very slightly - more a training exercise as I like to ensure he is exposed to loads of different things. He didn’t particularly like the noise of the clippers but was okay with them on him. Awww! The little amount of fur I took off was so soft and black and fluffy. This also means he won’t get so hot when I take him for walks which I try to do as often as I can, whether being led from T when I ride, or whether I long rein him. I know he is young still, but long-reining is a really good way to train ponies to be forward going and not to rely on you being beside them. Sig is an argumentative little b…. at times, but he doesn’t appear to have a bad bone in his body. He just wants to do what he wants not what I am requesting.

Sig: “I am going to speak to those ponies in that field!”

Me: “No you are not!, Walk on!” Gentle tap with schooling whip on the roller (band round his belly). It makes a noise so he is not getting tapped.

Sig: “Nope! I am speaking to those ponies and I am now going to show you up in front of that tractor driver.”

Me: “Walk on! Get on with you!” Firmer tap, now on his shoulder, which is a command we use when driving ponies. He spins round, backs away from me. “Come off it! Stop being a wee sh.. and get on with you!” I have lost! Okay so I walks gently, calmy up to him without looking him in the eye and stand by his shoulder, give his mane a tweek at the wither, “Walk on!”

Huh! And he does as sweet as pie and I continue up the road behind him as he trots happily home!That’s ponies for you! Thorfinn now waits for his quota of hay every evening… standing at the fence watching my every movement in the kitchen / dining room or sitting room… standing, waiting, imploring to be fed… he isn’t starved by any means of the word, but he is a Highland Pony after all and they are rather well known to look after their stomach at all costs.

This time of year also brings with it my harvest of tomatoes. This year I had stripy ones, yellow ones, pear shaped ones, orange ones and bobbly ones. The cucumbers and courgettes have also been pretty good but these have tailed off now. I only managed to get tatties, cabbages and beetroot in the ground. Tatties are good, beetroot is doing okay and the cabbages somehow have survived after being made skeletal by caterpillars. Carrots were sown but didn’t germinate (yet again), neither did the spinach.

So the nights are drawing in, as they say and it is dark by just after 7 in the evening. Time to think about being creative and doing some writing or drawing rather than vegging in front of the TV.

… for a short time at least.

So the time had come to head home. The islands were beckoning. As hubby had done the driving the day before, I opted to risk the M1 then on to the A1. We set off from Cassington, promptly getting caught up in the A40 traffic, well not quite as it was heading into Oxford as we were heading away. We stopped briefly at a Sainsbury to get supplies and fuel then made our way to the M1. The weather…well by now you know what the weather was doing! The M1 was busy and the rain was bouncing 6″ off the tarmac. The traffic was fast, too fast for the conditions. The motorway junctions drifted by and the electronic ones warned us of the weather conditions (as we we didn’t know already) and they warned of closures. So on we motored, huh! closures? “D get the map out we need to get off the motorway before the closure”. Definately did not want to get caught up in traffic leaving the motorway. We were actually heading for the A1 so hubby plotted a route from the M1 to A1 across country. Twisty windy roads (albeit A roads), lorries, tractors and the ubiquitous rain meant for a slow journey through picturesque English villages and towns via Market Harborough and Stamford. It seemed to take forever but eventually we made it to the A1(M). Before travelling any further we stopped at a services (well kind of) and got a coffee from an American style diner… yuck it was horrible coffee, and some fries from the Burger King, then trundled on our way.

OMG! I thought the motorways were fast but this was verging on the ridiculous… no, it was ridiculous. Keep my wits about me! Lorries going 60mph plus. Mirrors, mirrors, mirrors, look ahead. Don’t panic. Keep steady! Yep! That was the method. Keep steady between 60 and 70 and all was fine. There was a lot of traffic, more than I think I had seen for a long time but it kept moving. No delays or anything.

Eventually, after about 5 or 6 hours travelling we made it to our island destination. We hadn’t booked any B&B and were just hoping that we could find somehwere to stay. D phoned a couple but they were full up but we headed across the causeway anyway (desite being over an hour later than we anticipated) the tide was still out and wouldn’t turn for a while so we had plenty of time to find accommodation. The first place we pulled into was a small hotel / guesthouse set in trees. They did not have any accommodation but the kind gentleman offered to phone around. On the second call he found us somewhere to stay. That was our introduction to Holy Island and Lindisfarne… nothing but friendliness and helpfulness. The gentleman ran The Lindisfarne Hotel and claimed he did the best scone on the island. I am afraid, the next day we didn’t have the time to partake of his scones as we needed to beat the tide after visiting the priory.

We actually managed to secure a room in Eider Duck Cottage for the night on a B&B basis even though it was self catering accommodation. It is owned by Café Bean Goose, the proprieters of which were friendly and welcoming. Our breakfast in the morning was to be a 5 minute walk away. It was well after 8pm by the time we had got accommodation so we went to one of the pubs for a drink. We couldn’t get dinner as they stopped serving at 8pm. We had our drink, then went for a walk in the dreech evening, a little drizzle and strong wind. We walked past the priory and onto the shore. It was peaceful and quiet with hardly anybody about. The clouds were low but not quite shrouding the castle a mile away on the volcanic outcrop. I breathed deeply and smelt a familiar smell - the sea. I couldn’t believe how welcome that briny, seaweedy, refreshing smell was after the humidity of central England. I may not have been home, but that smell was home.

The next morning saw us eating breakfast just up the road, then we packed the car before heading to the Priory and to have a look round the few shops. We arrived at opening time so avoided too many people. Historic Scotland membership got me into this English Heritage property for free. This a place that I had always wanted to visit and I found it a lovely place… but not as spiritual as I had hoped. Could it be that the place is too commercialised? Too many people? Or, is the fact there was a lot less of it left standing than I had thought. Whatever, I enjoyed strolling around and envisaging it priory before and after the dissolution of the monasteries. The Benedictine monks had certainly chosen a remote spot. As more people arrived we drifted away and visited the neighbouring church, built so close to the priory church in the 13th century for lay people. What a beautiful church it was too! As time was short, we didn’t go out the castle. That would be for another time.

We then visited the few shops there were and as a novice singer, learning Gregorian Chant, I was very surprised and disappointed to not find any chant CDs in the shops… come on guys, you are marketing a Benedictine Priory, what about selling the music associated with monasteries? There were even only a handful of Celtic music CDs. The Lindisfarne winery shop was fine and you could taste a sample of the famous mead (BLEURGH!) and buy their wines (yum - elderflower). The ‘gift’ shop attached to the winery shop was full of tat!

So our short sojourn on Holy Island was over and we left as car loads and bus loads of tourists arrived and were exiting the public car park in their droves heading to the priory and castle. I am glad we stayed overnight as we got to experience the peace and tranquility of the place when few folk were around, maybe reminiscent of days gone by when the priory was in its heyday.

The last leg of the trip (through even more rain) involved heading up to near Elgin to stop overnight with my sister, then back on familiar roads north to Thurso and the ferry and home for a holiday from the holiday… and preparing the pony and harness and gig for the local show.

When I travel south, especially VERY south I almost feel like a child again seeing new things. It isn’t as though I haven’t seen motorways before, or lots of traffic, or England but I think living on an island can make you very insular.

So we are now heading south for the M6 and beyond. The weather is pleasant, too warm in a basic un-air-conditioned car. I had forgotten how fast motorways were so the first few miles were spent with white knuckles as I gripped the steering wheel securely. Before long, the confidence grew, and the middle and outside lanes beckoned where necessary. I found that I trusted the lorry drivers much more than some of the car drivers, some of whom went frighteningly fast. We passed through several very heavy rain showers which made visibility rather interesting! We stopped at my favourite services at Tebay which I think is the only independent services on the whole of the motorway network. It has a nice shop with ‘local’ food and gifts and the facilities are clean.

The next stop was at one of the usual, slightly scruffy and tired services where hubby took over the driving… can’t even remember the name of it as they all appear to be clones of each other. The M6 toll proved to be as traffic free as motorways were probably in the ’70s. I find it incredible that people refuse to pay the £4 or so it costs for the 25 or so  miles (???) and go on the M6 via the outskirts of Birmingham… who would choose to sit in congestion?

Once we found the M40 we knew we were only a couple of hours at the most from our destination at my father’s (and stepmum) in Cassington, Oxfordshire. A quick phonecall let them know we were iminent so they could put the kettle on. The sky was overcast as we skirted the suburbs of Oxford and found the road that tooks us in the right direction. After 6 hours or so of travelling we were greeted by my parents and 2 very friendly dogs (collie and a black lab) and a black cat. A cup of tea was enjoyed, then we unloaded the car. It was nice to stop moving.

The next few days were spent shopping, short walks and visiting historical sites, not necessarily in that order, shopping being low on my list these days. The weather was warm but overcast. Any walks with the dogs and cat and Dad were done in waterproofs. The shorts and vest tops remained in the suitcase for the duration, something that has never happened in the past when I have visited Oxfordshire in the summer.

Now Dad stays in a bungalow on a closed caravan site, so there is access to plenty of walking for his dogs, as well as a wee river / mill stream, and trees :-). He cat joined us on these walks… trotting along behind us as the dogs ran ahead. Walks through the trees along the old gravel pit, stepping over badger setts and rabbit burrows were pleasant as were the last of the wild strawberries found in a fallow field - sweet yet bitter.

To give us a break from driving Dad took us up to Banbury where we visited Broughton Castle, a moated Tudor manor house. I love these sort of places having visited a few in the Lancashire Cheshire area when I was younger. Nothing beats the smell of the oak panels. Living on an island means I don’t often get a chance to indulge in the history I prefer - medieval and Tudor … don’t get me wrong, I like what we have here in Orkney - the stone circles especially. I used to love visiting all the tower houses in Aberdeenshire when I lived there. They made for a great Sunday trip out. Broughton Castle was beautiful. It is still lived in and is only open a couple of days a week. It is set in lovely parkland, with a wide moat with the ‘essential’ lily pads, swans and ducks. The tour allows you to see a lot of the house and the lovely private garden. The coffee shop was fab and the church next door was a beautiful 13th century one.

Another day was spet in Witney, a town built up on the blanket making business. It is very much a commuter town now but has good shooping in a wide main street. There is a wonderful, not commercialised farm museum quite near to the centre, but unfortunately it might have to close as it is not really on the tourist route. We spent a good couple of hours at least wandering around Cogge’s Farm Museum looking at the implements, the few animals, barns, and house.

The day before we headed northwards again, we took ourselves south of Oxford to a place I have often been past but never actually visited… Stonehenge. It has never had the appeal to me that our local stone circles, Brodgar and the Standing Stones of Stenness or Callanish on Lewis has but, hey I thought it was time to visit. The place was hooching with hundreds and hundreds of people, yet I felt the visit was quite special and I felt quite emotional as we walked around the circle. To my utter surprise, and I did voice it rather loudly in public (oops), it was a lot smaller in diameter than Brodgar, yes the stones themselves were HUGE but it was small! At one point the crowds thinned for about 5 minutes giving me time to sit and reflect on this amazing(ish) place and realising the our circles are in a much more spectacular setting.

That day we also went on to visit Avebury, impressive but creepy (due to the disturbing memories of a children’s series on ITV in the late 70’s called The Children of the Stones), Woodhenge, Wayland’s Smithy and the White Horse of Uffington and Uffington Castle (hill fort) (fab views). It was truly a historical tour and the weather stayed dry for us.