A Northern Journal

I sit here in Birsay Bay Tearoom on a wild and windy day looking across to the Brough of Birsay. The clouds hang low in the sky but as the wind is south-easterly the sea isn’t as rough as it might be presumed to be on such a wild day. Black cattle graze the links. The Brough itself is shrouded in a fine mist and the rain begins to fall in earnest. Few folk are outside and after a quiet start the tearoom is filling up with vistors, locals and tourists (even at this time of the year).

My mind wanders back to a fine hot summer that seems to have faded into the mists of time, even tho’ it was only a couple of months ago. On a warm August day, my parents and I stacked our bikes into the horsebox, and I drove us over to Tingwall for the ferry to Rousay. The ferry was packed with cars, bicycles and people. It seemed that everyone was heading to the island. The journey itself was smooth and we disembarked on the island to set out for a clockwise journey around the island. As we left the small harbour and cycled up the steep hill I wondered to myself what on earth was I thinking doing a cycle of 15 miles when I usually do 5-6 miles at the most. The weather was thankfully nowhere near as hot as the day before (Dounby Show) and there was a breeze to help keep us cool. At the top of that first hill, we found the entrance to Trumland House and noted that the gardens were open to the public so we decided that if we had time, we would have a look round before we got the ferry back.

Setting off, with the hill(s) of Rousay to our right and the turbulent waters of Eynhallow Sound to our left we cycled gently along between fences, walls and field of green grass and golden barley waving in the gentle breeze. At the Taversoe Tuick tomb, we stopped to have a look and clamber in this two-storey tomb and look at the views over mainland Orkney and take the first of many photographs. The cycle continued and stopped, and continued and stopped, as plenty of photo opportunities grabbed us. We didn’t bother visiting some of the other archaeological treasures as both my parents and I had visited them before. This trip was a cycle, not walk, and anyway, I doubt that I was fit enough to do both cycling AND walking!

I am a stubborn cyclist and really don’t want hills to beat me, but even on my shiny new bike the first long drawn out hill above the Midhowe broch and chambered tomb beat me! Well, actually, the car that careered past me on the single track road did. As I wobbled and ground to a halt - so I had to walk after all! On the bleak north side we looked (from a distance) at a clearance village (or should I say croft(s)?) set in the heather, the remains of the old field systems just visible. A little bit more of a climb took us to the brow of a hill, then the looooooong straight fairly steep road down towards the Loch of Wasbister (on which there is a crannog) where we sat eating our lunch in the shelter of the lichen covered wall of the graveyard on the loch’s edge. Woo hoooooo! That was a fast cycle down the hill – over 30 mph according to my cycle computer. 

After a while seated by loch edge munching my leftover sandwiches from the Dounby Show the day before, we got back on our bikes with the prospect of a long steep hill to climb which we could see long before we got to it. Resolutely, at 2mph I pedalled and pedalled and pedalled until eventually I decided to walk and found that I could actually walk faster than cycling. Once that was behind us we stopped at a monument / sculpture (or something) which was set on heathery ground looking out over the North Isles and beyond.

 

 

 

“Gods of the earth, Gods of the Sea”

 

 

 

The final stretch back to the ferry was upon us. The wind behind helping to get a turn of speed down another long steep hill that even I pulled back from. It was exhilarating, though! We arrived back at the gates to Trumland House, parked up the bikes at the back of the gatehouse, paid our £1.50 and walked up the long drive to the house and gardens which were (and still are) undergoing extensive restoration. And… this is another story, a hidden Jewel in the Orkney Islands! 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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.

I really don’t know what has happened to the summer holidays and all my wonderful (hah!) plans to keep the blog up-dated.

Anyway, for the first time in ages we ventured off the island for a holiday. Now getting on a ferry is definately not my first choice of activity, but it has to be done. Yeah, I know I chose to live on an island… but little did I know back then some 17 years ago, that I would develop an interesting relationship with the ferry… no that’s a wee lie! I knew that on the first trip in March 1992 on the old(er) little St Ola  and that was one of the worst crossings of the Pentland Firth that I have ever had… even now. I don’t mind boats if I can get fresh air or lie down, oh, and when it is calm, so I was rather delighted when the early morning Hamnavoe left Stromness on a mill pond. As always, we first had some breakfast on board then I headed out on deck to watch Stromness disappear. Departing out through Hoy sound was rather surreal. Flat calm and quiet except for the thrum of the engines and an American musician friend playing a rather lovely tune on his whistle. I did wonder if those early risers on the camps site in Stromness heard that ethereal music drifting across the water. I then took myself off to sleep on one of the leather sofas.

The journey down the road was uneventful but the temperature was rising and our little car is very basic so the air conditioning was turned on - we wound the windows down! We had the stipulatory stop off for ice cream in Brora, then to Lower Arboll near Tain where we dropped our friend off at an amazing old croft where a very clever woodworker lives and works. He makes the most beautiful organic looking wooden jewelery. A well needed cup of tea and a tour of the beautiful two acre woodland garden set us up well for the rest of the day. Oh but to dream of a treeish garden like that!

And the sun shone!

We stopped in Dingwall to buy lunch then headed west to visit my mum and stepdad. We partook of lunch in a peaceful lay-by by a loch then drove on the fabulous two-way road that would take us all the way to Kinlochewe. This is a fast road that sweeps through the glens along loch and riverside and through hills and ever increasing mountains. A huge difference on the twisty windy upsy downsy single track road that used to make me travel sick as a kid.

And the sun continued to shine!

We were greeted with yet more sun and by my parents at Arrina on the northern coast of the Applecross Peninsula, overlooking Loch Torridon. Miraculously, we weren’t greeted by midges. The heat must have been keeping them away - Phew! We spent two nights here.

On the first night Mum and I walked up the hill in the evening to be greeted by a most wonderful sunset (and a handful of midges). It was very warm, even at ten at night. The next day was spent in Applecross - lunch at The Potting Shed in the walled garden of Applecross House, the spinach, parmesan and sweet chilli soup so good that we all had seconds. A walk through woodland and a bit of moorland followed with trousers tucked into socks (Mum and I were severely ticked here last year). The trees did an excellent job of posing for all the photos I took. We also had a stroll through Applecross and visited the unfortunate run down shop. We returned ‘home’ the long way over the Bealach Nam Bo (Pass of the Cattle), a corkscrew of a road winding down the side of a corrie.

After two nights, we headed south aiming for Moffat as our stopover as it was about half way to where we headed. The A9, well, was the A9 as it always is. The weather was mixed, but the traffic flowed smoothly. Ralia Cafe is an excellent place to stop for lunch and very nice coffee. We arrived at our Victorian guest house (there are a lot of Victorian houses) in Moffat late afternoon, got ourselves settled then went to explore and eat. It was gala week so we saw the spectacle (if it can be called that) of the wheelbarrow pub crawl! Ummmm! Not the most flattering way to show off a town. Moffat is a nice town and I discovered from the guest house owners that it was a spa town, I thought it grew around the wool trade or something.

We left to head south the next morning, me driving, aiming for the M6 and real motorway driving… a scary prospect when you spend most of your time driving on an island!

On the Saturday of the hot weekend of the Wimbledon finals, hubby mentioned that he was going to the Ness Battery as there was a guided tour. I decided I would like to go and see this war time relic which is usually kept locked behind a tall fence, more recent archaeology which isn’t really given the time the Neolithic stuff is. If it isn’t properly documented or if not preserved then we will lose this heritage.

The Ness Battery defended Hoy Sound from circa 1938, altho’ there was an earlier World War I defence along side. It is an amazing place, last used in the 90’s before the MOD sold it to the council (I think!). A few of the barracks were still in place, and we were shown the mess hall where there is an amazing mural painted by one of the soldiers who were stationed there. It depicts idyllic rural ‘English’ scenes.

Once we were shown the mess hall and one of the 6” gun emplacements we were given the chance to have a look around (at our own risk) so we had a look at another barrack and the look out tower thingy. The underground magazines were inaccessible, having been blocked off, yet the broken concrete caps to access shafts hinted at attempts by ‘youths’ or others to gain access to the underground tunnel and magazine.

It is amazing how the wild has taken over this place, long grass, wild flowers and evidence of the Orkney vole – their ‘tunnels’ through the grass. There is even a raven’s nest in one of the gun emplacements. The metal work is rusted into amazing colours and shapes, yet the concrete is little affected by the passage of time.

One can but hope this relic of a war that cannot be forgotten is preserved and made use of, unlike the Black Building in Kirkwall which has now been condemned to oblivion!

The beauty of living in Orkney in the summer are the long days. Now this is both a blessing and a curse. There are lots of hours in the day to get things done, especially when the weather has been as dry and sunny as it has been (depsite the blip with heavy downpours last week - it was needed!). The curse though is that more often, the longer that I have lived here, that I wake up with the sunrise 4am, 3am, 2am. I have finally resorted to a blackout blind which has helped keep me asleep longer. Bizarre when you consider that when I was a teenager I always left the curtains open.

Anyway, the longest day is here and I was honoured to be invited to ‘Orkney’s first Solstice fire festival’ by friends of the organisers. Now I normally would go to the Ring of Brodgar to watch the sun set / rise but this alternative affair was very special indeed. It was an informal affair with around 20/25 or so people including families. Now, I was going to be arriving ‘late’ after my friends and husband, who they had kindly agreed to pick up, as I was at a friend’s hen night. I still have the last vestiges of my shyness which has never really left me so when I phoned to say I was leaving Kirkwall, I discovered they weren’t there yet so I kind of panicked and thought no way was I going to turn up to a ’stranger’s’ on my own. As the road through Finstown was closed due to the gala, I headed to the shores of Stenness, via the Orphir road. I stopped briefly at The Bu to visit the remains of the round church and to collect my thoughts then trundled slowly over to the venue. I had decided to bite the bullet and go down the long track where I met our kind hosts who greeted me like old friends. That over with, I could relax and discovered that other folk I know were also there. Hubby and friends arrived shortly after that. There was a barbecue to keep us fed and a supply of beverages. Everyone was so friendly.

To get the ‘festivities’ started our hosts had provided a couple of treasure hunts, and hubby and my friend and her partner set out as a team. Our first obstacle was pacing out 100 metres for the first clue. Our host showed us how to do this, then set us on our way. This was good fun, and I can’t remember when I last did a treasure hunt. After everyone was back from the hunt, we were organised into two teams so that we could communally (??) do some (not so) traditional fire lighting. Never mind the little hand bow… we had a giant human one. It was experimental! Unfortunately the first spindle thingy didn’t appear to work. It was then swapped for a thinner one, which once some pressure was applied by the ropes and the two teams pulling back and forth appeared to be doing the job. Good teamwork was needed as the pressure on both sides of the rope had to be kept tight and even. Smoke started forming but then there was a loud crack and the spindle thingy broke!. Back to the drawing board! We restarted using the bottom half and some frantic too-ing and fro-ing for a few minutes produced the first embers which our host used to light some dried grass. The embers were then carefully carried down to the shore (opposite Stromness which was on the other side of the bay). We all followed and gathered round as the embers were expertly blown to produce a fire in a prepared fire-pit and we all put a piece of wood carefully on the fire. The next few hours were spent wandering along the beach, eating, drinking, and amenable friendly chatting. The fire was kept burning by the pyromaniacs amongst us. One of the highlights of the evening was the person who did some fire twirling… it was one of the most amazing things I have ever seen.

At one point I took myself off down the beach and lay down and listened to the birds and the water lapping. The hills of Hoy silhouetted against a pale darkening sky in the south, the lights of Stromness glinting in the west and in the west / north west the setting sun. It was idyllic. Along the beach I could see the folk gathered around the flickering orange flames chatting peaceably in the pale midsummer light. On return to the bonfire, I found my erstwhile friend had got the marshmallows out and they were being toasted on the fire. Warm squidgy marshmallows were placed along with a raspberry between to dark chocolate digestive biscuits - divine! Meanwhile, my husband, a young lad and a visitor from sooth had set a fire on a raft and sent it floating on the water. It burned for ages, reflecting in the calm mill pond of the sea.

I have no idea of where the time went, and before we knew it it was 1.30am and it was time to consider heading home. We said our goodbyes and as I was driving, decided to go via the stone circles, stopping at Stones of Stenness to take a couple of photos of the rising sun. This was a memorable, peaceful evening amongst old and new friends, an international gathering (folk from South Africa, Italy, Croatia, Canada, England and the States). I look forward, with anticipation, to the next event like this I can attend. Unfortunately it probably won’t be next midsummer as I will be on a coach to Switzerland on a school trip!

As I sit here writing this, the beauty of the clear skies and sunshine of the last couple of days has been shrouded in soe misty rain showers, Hoy only barely visible through the sitting room window. I don’t think I will be visiting Brodgar tonight!

The competition season has started and Thorfinn is doing well. The Riding Club show was a success. Over 80 entrants altogether. Thorf won one class, came second and third in another two. I was really pleased as I hadn’t taken him to this particular show for about 3 years. Showing and competing in Orkney can be an interesting affair when it comes to the weather. We have a wonderful indoor arena, but a show of this size has to be outdoors. The venue was a lovely (mostly) flat field next to the mart. It overlooks the sea to the north and on a good day, which the 6th was, you can see some of the Northern isles. My only quibble was the grass was far too long and was very diffucult to run in with an icky thigh muscle when trotting up the pony. I got home about 5pm, uloaded the car, the horse and saw that he was comfortable and fed, then headed in for a deep bubbly bath. Ummm! my face was tingling somewhat… sun burn despite the factor 40 I thought… no, it was more like wind burn as the next day my face was fine.

I have also done a couple of dressage competitions, both indoors but this year we are up against stiff competition. I am beginning to find it somewhat frustrating that I get the same comments… ‘needs to be rounder’ (This is talking about his outline and how he goes, moves and whether he is on the bit). I know this but Thorf isn’t a dressage horse… more like a working or draught horse. His shortish neck and thick jowel means it isn’t easy for him to come in on the bit… oh well I can but dream!

The Hobbits are doing fine. I am missing Jem as she is now keeping a friend’s horse company as the old timer that used to be the companion had to be put down at the beginning of May (he was 40 going on 50!!!). She is in a good place though and is very well looked after. Even though she must be over half a mile away from me as the crow flies (or even a cuckoo… yes we have a cuckoo in the neighbourhood, something which I haven’t heard since I moved from the Highlands), anyway… I can see her from my house - a wee ginger blip with her 16hh black companion. The separation from Jem is doing Sigurd the world of good as once the weaning had been done he kind of got over attached again. He is now over attached to Thorf and acts like his shadow. The other day I was lungeing Thorfinn and Sigurd joined in. It was interesting and at least they both got exercised.

It only seems like last week that I last posted, but it is two months ago! Why does time fly? Spring has sprung and gone again and come back again and summer has been trying to make an appearance. The temperatures haven’t been particularly great yet I did manage some shorts and tee-shirt wearing in May (You would have needed sunglasses for my peely wally legs!!!). My motivation to do stuff varies (like tonight I just can’t be bothered!) but a lot has got done.

April into May was spent getting Thorfinn fit after a winter layoff. I rode the same route pretty much every day for a week or two (reluctant to go near the hill where I came off last year and dislocated my shoulder) and it is amazing the small changes that you note… mostly the verges as the new grass pushes up through the dried brown of wizened stems, then along come the primroses (and buttercup and docken). Now the verges are starting to teem with orchids. I am sure, when I was growing up in the Highlands, I was told they were rare! Well not here! Each time I passed  along the track ‘under’ Greeny Hill more gorse flowers (Thorfinn loves eating these… he curls his lips back to avoid the needles and plucks the flowers off) had sprouted and the leaves on the trees grew from teeny buds, to bright green baby leaves and are now maturing. The lambs that were fresh and white (or black) that gambolled as little things are now sturdy solid creatures and the cows are out in the fields… it can be interesting if the cows decide to run along the fence alongside the horse!

Thorfinn is now pretty fit and has won a few rosettes in a couple of competitions and I am working him towards another dressage test at the weekend. Took him for his first carriage drive in a year or two last week. Hubby and I headed out on a beautiful Friday evening, sun shining and barely a cloud in the sky. He was impeccable and behaved wonderfully. I think he really enjoys pulling the gig. It is a lovely way to get about but boy, do you get cold! It was reasonably warm when we set out, but by the time we had stopped and chatted to a friend and returned home I couldn’t feel my fingers! So much for the sun… the chill wind beat that one hands down.

The garden is growing fast, despite the lack of rain (until today) and I had to weed the other day… blooming Lady’s Mantle had seeded itself everywhere. Isn’t a weed just a plant in the wrong place? Have overdone the tomato plants in the greenhouse and have six different varieties… orange ones, yellow ones, pear-shaped ones, stripy ones and red ones, mad or what! Sowed some carotts and ??? oh yes, spinach in one of the veg plots… got fed up trying to make rows so the carrots may be in wavy lines (well will be after the cat has been in there) and the spinach is random!. Not sure if  will be able to tell the difference between the ubiquitous chickweed and the seedlings though. Keep saying each year that I will STOP trying to grow carrots but I always give them one more chance… how many years have I failed to grow them now??? Tatties are looking good as are the buttercup and dockens in the ponies’ field … well they got topped the other day so at least they won’t seed themselves! The Turk’s head Lilies have flowered already and the scent is divine. I am sure that they usually flower a lot later! The bronze fennel is magnificent! Soft, greeny brown fronds that smell wonderful… what do you do with it though? I love it as an architectural plant!

So, that is a potted account of the last two months, missing out all the DUngeons & Dragons games I have done and the time spent on the laptop doing nothing in particular. Now to stop procrastinating and go and do something… or not. Think I will have a rest this evening!

Was out in the car the other week and just couldn’t help stopping to take photos and visiting the Standing stones of Stenness in the glorious spring sunshine.

Old Finstown Road

Old Finstown Road looking towards Rendall

Standing Stone

Standing Stones of Stenness

Stromness Harbour & Scapa Flow