Significantly Different

Travel in the Time of Covid

An Unexpected Journey

It was not our intention to travel outside Scotland this year, yet here we are, almost ready to fly to Dublin for a weekend that will be our Christmas present to each other. How we have arrived at this decision is, quite frankly, epically stressful.

The story all begins with airmiles. With many years of wonderful travel we have accumulated a large amount of airmiles with a certain Dutch airline, especially The Wing Commander, who spent some years in the late 90s and early 2000s commuting weekly to Amsterdam for work. We have used them in the past to upgrade flights for special occasions but still have enough to upgrade a flight for our next big anniversary to an as yet undecided destination.

To maintain the airmiles we have to take a flight every year and this is usually easily accomplished with visits to friends in France or with regular holidays abroad. I have even flown to Cardiff via Amsterdam as the easiest (and, incidentally, cheapest) option to attend a conference. In 2020, with the global pandemic limiting the possibilities of travel for pleasure, the airline agreed to hold over airmiles for a year without the stipulated flight. As 2021 progressed and the prospect of international travel remaining unlikely we were secretly hoping the airline would continue their offer to maintain our airmiles for another year. Alas, no e-mail with such glad tidings arrived and we were faced with the prospect of losing our many airmiles.

The easiest option was obviously to take a quick flight to Amsterdam, maybe spend a day or two depending on circumstances, and return with airmiles intact. We know Amsterdam fairly well having spent our honeymoon there and visiting with The Bombers when The Wing Commander was working there. It is a lovely city but it wouldn’t have been our first choice in any other circumstances. After a quick online search I discovered nearby Haarlem which was easily accesible from Schiphol airport and appeared to have plenty of attractions to amuse, entertain and educate weekend visitors. It seemed we had a destination.

Then…

The locals became restless and there were disturbances in the streets of some Dutch towns as news of new covid-related restrictions were announced. Our, frankly, forced, travel now had another unwelcome dimension. We began to look at other destinations in Europe but with daily announcements of potential new restrictions it was becoming a planning minefield.

A chance comment by Senior Bomber prompted us to look at Dublin. There was a moment where I locked eyes with The Wing Commander and we unspokenly agreed it was a great idea! Nearly forty years of marriage can allow for such silent communications! Of course, going via Amsterdam is not the most direct route to our Irish neighbours but it was the essential component for maintaining the airmiles, which was the whole point of the travel in the first place.

We did our research, booked the flights, hotel and attractions we wanted to visit and with the help of a good friend in Dublin who works in the aviation industry (to whom we owe a large drink), we were able to keep abreast of all the documentation we required. It had been stressful but we were finally booked and could look forward to our weekend break. Dublin would be fantastic!

Then…

Omicron! A quick message from our friend in Dublin let us know we would now need proof of a Rapid Antigen Test on top of our vaccine record to enter Ireland. Anxiety levels quickly rose as I hurriedly booked tests for us both. Levels continued to rise as confirmation of the bookings did not arrive by e-mail. Several hours later I finally broke and tried re-booking the tests to discover I had not completed the first booking attempt and therefore it was not confirmed. Second attempt was confirmed and we had our tests this morning – both negative. Hurrah! Now, to enjoy a well-earned rest in Dublin.

Then…

The Wing Commander checked the KLM website. Our airmiles were going to be held over for another year…

Our eyes met. Should we cancel?

Not on your bloody life! Dublin, here we come!

Unpopular Opinion: Dogs off-lead.

“You’re on a walk and you see a dog on a lead. Your dog is running free.

Q: What should you do next?

Is it:

A: put your dog on a lead

B. Let your dog run over and say hello.

C: Shout “Don’t worry, he’s friendly.”

D: What dog? You were playing candy crush.

The answer is…. A. Did you get it right?”

I saw this post on social media recently. It is regularly posted in various forms and it makes me growl every time. Apart from the obvious omisions to the options it assumes all dogs to be the same danger to other dogs. And it sounds bloody sanctimonious!

I walk Rousay off-lead all the time. I usually don’t even carry her lead if we are walking in a place she knows well. She is very friendly, shyly curious and really timid. She is also responsive to commands from me and cues from other walkers and dogs. Many walkers know her and she loves the attention they give her, others are less familiar and will either stop to pet her or walk on by as they see fit. Rousay loves meeting other dogs but will immediately assume a submissive position to more alpha dogs. She wants to play chase but only if she is the chaser! It’s a collie thing!

My point is that I am responsible for my dog and as such I do not always need to put her on lead when we meet other dogs regardless of whether they are on leads or not. I am not, however, responsible for other people’s dogs. I sympathise if other dogs are nervous, reactive or just bad tempered but it is not my responsibility to cater to their needs. In the same way I was not responsible if other people’s children got upset because my children were eating sweets in the park when they had none. I did not need to stop my children eating because it somehow upset others.

I have met owners of reactive dogs and it often seems to be my fault when their dogs react. I rarely witness those owners dealing with their own dog’s reaction or using the situation as a training moment. It is not Rousay’s responsibility when another dog reacts badly to her presence and I am not going to put my dog on a lead to appease the owner.

I have confidence in Rousay to act appropriately and to respond to my commands. She is trained to obey my commands. In the rare instance that she does not respond she is not a danger to other people or dogs and she is able to read the cues from other dogs who do not want to be approached. I am not, however, the person in option D who pays no attention to what their dog or others are doing. I know where Rousay is, what she is doing and how she is likely to react to the approach of another dog or person. I will call her to heel if necessary and she will respond.

Of course, the argument is that other people do not know my dog and this is true. Just as I do not know their dog and why it may or may not be on a lead. I am responsible for my dog alone. Your dog is your responsibility. If your dog is reactive then you need to deal with that. Instead of being concerned about my dog being off-lead, respond to your own dogs needs. If that means you have to cross the road, calm your dog or use the moment for training then do so. In the same way, if I perceive a threat or danger to Rousay I will move away or give her appropriate training/attention. For instance, Rousay is scared of traffic, especially busses and motorbikes. When she senses one approaching she lies down until it passes. I have trained her to do this and I reassure her all is well. I do not expect traffic to stop when I am out walking her.

Well, not all dogs are as well behaved as Rousay, you may say. Again, true. Sadly, not all dog owners are responsible. I am not responsible for their irresponsibility and when I meet with it I, too, have to take appropraite action with Rousay. We can only be responsible for our own actions and our own dog’s safety. If a dog is aggressive, of course you can report it after taking immediate steps so ensure you and your dog’s safety.

The above admonition to put dogs on lead when meeting other dogs is, no doubt, well meaning. There are definitely owners who should have their dogs on leads. A social meadia quizlet or or article telling all dog owners that it is ‘respectful’ to put our dogs on lead or ‘irresponsible’ if we do not might have good intentions but inevitably misses the point that we are all responsible only for our own dogs. I would rather see posts advising dog owners that a walk with your dog, while pleasurable exercise, is not a time to switch off and let your mind wander. The owner should be fully aware of what their dog and others are doing and be able to ‘read’ any potential situation that presents itself.

Age is Only Important for Cheese and Wine

I went for my flu vaccine and covid booster this week. The nurse asked my age and I actually had to think about it then work it out. I don’t mean I do not know how old I am just that I wasn’t sure which year I was in. I knew I was older than 60 but was I still 61 or had I progressed to 62? I really do not think about my age enough for it to become an automatic (correct) answer when asked.

As a child, when I played make-believe games with friends I always wanted to be 17. It seemed a perfect age to be when I was 6! I am not sure why but ‘My name is Janet, I am 17 and I work in a shop’ seemed to be my peak aspiration. There was something so wonderful about being called Janet to my 6-year-old self and I longed to be able to change my name (probably when I became 17). I’m not sure I remember what kind of shop I aspired to work in though.

There was a period in my mid to late thirties when I felt I was already 40. I had four Bombers under 12, there were endless activities to drop them off at or pick them up from and I was trying to run my own business. I admit there was more than one occasion when I forgot about pick up and found Tiny Bomber standing alone outside the dance class and I once left a Boy’s Brigade Christmas show and drove home without Senior and Junior. (Don’t be so judgey: they survived!) It was a hectic time and so between the ages of 35-39 I believed I was 40 years old.

More commonly though I have believed for most of my adult life that I am 25, at least in my head. This has become increasingly disconcerting as The Bombers have themselves passed that milestone so in recent years I think I have aged to…oh, possibly 28. I may even reach 30 in the not to distant future. Until then I will not think unduly about the number and will act whatever age I feel and my knees will allow.

Love Food. Hate Cooking!

‘Put all ingredients in the slow cooker, stir and cover. Cook on high for 3-4 hours or on low for 6-7 hours’

This is my kind of recipe! Bung it in, switch it on, leave it alone.

I have never liked cooking all that much. As a teenager, if I was left in charge of cooking I invariably burnt it as I was usually engrossed in a book or some other infinitely more pleasurable activity. When I left home I had a small cooking repertoire and it habitually came out of a tin or a frozen packet.

Don’t get me wrong. I love food! I love good food. I love good food in good restaurants. But I dislike cooking. I dislike thinking about what to cook. I dislike wondering how to cook it. I dislike preparing it. And quite often I dislike eating what I have cooked.

Thankfully, I married a man who likes cooking and who finds it relaxing. Well, that’s what he says. In the early days he probably figured out that in order to keep himself and The Bombers alive it was best if someone unburdened me of the task of preparing food. He enjoys it and is good at it. Infinitely better at it than me. We all have our favourites from his recipes and eat heartily when he puts our plates in front of us. For my part I am happy to do the tidying up and cleaning the kitchen afterwards. It works for us and we all have happy tummies.

For all my dislike of cooking I inexplicably bought a slow cooker a couple of years ago. It sat, unused, in a cupboard for a couple of months before The Wing Commander insisted I use it. Somehow this has meant that I now have to cook once a week. At the same time we took the decision to eat more vegetarian meals and so we now have Veggie Wednesday. One of our favourite recipes is a spicy veggie stew with the above quoted method. Everything in, switch on and return in 6 hours to a hearty meal. I admit that the ‘favourite’ part for me is mostly in its simplicity but I have to admit it also tastes good. I’m still not a cooking convert but I am becoming more tolerant of the activity.

Kitchener’s Memorial or HMS Hampsire Memorial?

The new wall remembering all the casualties of the sinking of HMS Hampshire

In a recent post I wrote about visiting Kitchener’s Memorial for the first time. As a child I lived a few short miles from it and growing up it was a familiar landmark in a prominent position on a headland on the northwest coast of Orkney. It marks the closest landfall from the sinking of the armoured cruiser HMS Hampshire during the First World War. Stories of the event, memorialised by the crenellated tower, were often retold as I was growing up and are well known on the islands. The tragedy touched local people so much that, ten years after the distater, they raised the money to build a memorial by public subscription and dedicated it to its most famous victim, Lord Kitchener of Khartoum.

Lord Kitchener’s is the familiar face on the famous recruitment posters of the First World War era, pointing and looking directly at the reader insisting, ‘Your Country Needs You.’ Some may also know his as a colonial administrator in India and Egypt or from his farm-burning policy and the expansion of concentration camps during the Boer War. His final role was as Secretary of State for War between 1914-1916. He was a bombastic, opinionated, entitled and powerful man but was also highly regarded, especially by the general public, for his heroic past victories and was widely belived to be the the one man in Britain who could win the war.

On 5 June 1916 Kitchener and his party of military and diplomatic personnel arrived in Scapa Flow in Orkney to board HMS Hampshire, just returned from action in the Battle of Jutland. They were to sail to Archangel in northern Russia on a diplomatic mission for talks with Tsar Nicholas II about the Allied conduct of the war. In a force 9 gale the Hampshire left the shelter of Scapa Flow to sail up the west side of Orkney were shortly before 9pm the ship struck a recently laid German minefield and sank 1.5 miles off the coast with the loss of all but twelve seamen onboard. The monument on Marwick Head in Birsay, Orkney commemorates the loss and memorialises Lord Kitchener with the dedication … ‘in memory of Field Marshall Earl Kitchener of Khartoum on that corner of his country which he had served so faithfully nearest to the place he had died on duty…’

The monument bears his name but Kitchener was only one of 737 men who lost their lives that fateful night. Only 160 bodies were recovered and are buried at Lyness Royal Navy Cemetery on the nearby island of Hoy while twelve seamen survived. The remainder, including Kitchener, were never found. Yet the memorial recods only one name. In order to commemorate the centenary of the event and to ‘better remember those who died’ (http://hmshampshire.org/) Orkney Heritage Society researched the full death toll and created a memorial wall which includes the names of all who perished that evening. It is a fitting tribute to the men who died, curved around the seaward side of Kitchener’s tower. From the above link, the full list of casualties can be read, each one with its own link to an Imperial War Museum site which provides a short timeline of each seaman’s life, love and service. It is a poignant reminder that beyond their service to their country they had families, hopes and aspirations for the future which were cut short on that tragic night. For the families of the men lost it provides a vital public acknowledgement of their lives and contributions.

As I stood beside the memorials, the original tower and the new wall, I couldn’t help but think it should be called The Hampshire Memorial. Since it was built the imposing tower has been known as Kitchener’s Memorial and the name slips easily of the tongue when speaking about it but the real value of the memorial is not as another symbol of a famous man whose name is borne on several other statues, memorial windows, chapels, streets and even trees but a just recognition of all the lives without whom Kitchener could not have conducted the war.

Refugee Stories by Refugees

So much of the chatter around refugee stories are from people who are neither refugees nor involved with the support of refugees. Refugee Radio Times: Voices of Asylum, Identity and Resistance, edited by Lorna Stephenson and Stephen Silverwood, is a welcome focus on the lived experiences of refugees from very different backgrounds and with different needs in terms of support.

All refugees deserve to be treated with dignity and respect not just as fellow individual human beings seeking assistance in extreme circumstances but as a special category recognised in international law as requiring specific protections. Britain, as a politically and economically stable democracy, has a moral responsibility to protect refugees and as a signatory of the 1951 Refugee Convention is legally bound to adhere to the terms which define specific protections required to be granted to refugees entering and living in the country. Sadly, there are no oversight bodies to monitor and enforce the Convention in cases of non compliance by signatories and the United Nations High Commisioner for Refugees has supervisory powers only.

Britain is currently failing refugees both morally and legally as the stories told in Refugee Radio Times expose. Refugee Radio is a registered charity and radio station in Brighton which aims to support local projects targeting issues of mental health, isolation and social exclusion among refugee communities. Refugee Radio Times is a collection of ‘perspectives on the issues of asylum, refuge and migration’ as experienced by people from all over the world and in different eras, including Burma 1958, Iran 1979, Cameroon 1990s who have encountered the British refugee ‘system’.

Every story is valuable but for me the most haunting was not of the dangers and traumas told first hand by those who have experienced them, although they are powerful and necessary, but the chapter entitled The Trial: Franz Kafka and the UK Asylum Process, by Stephen Silverwood. ‘Kafkaesque’ may be an overused term but is entirely fitting in describing the ‘nightmarish tales of individual helplessness in the face of a complex bureaucracy’ (Refugee Radio Times p.72) experienced by many refugees in this country. Silverwood deftly links Kafka’s stories to the actuality of life as a refugee in Britain. The Home Office and its Immigration and Visa department as faceless institutions where information, when it is available is fragmentary and often contradictory. Documents are frequently lost of misplaced and direct contact made impossible as internal phone numbers are kept secret and regularily changed.

Any human contact with the system or process is through uniformed enforcement officers and guards provided by private security firms, often in the event of detention and deportation. Refugees who arrive seeking asylum, in many cases already traumatised by what they have seen and experienced, are often man-handled, ill-treated or ignored by the officers and guards employed by private companies who provide these services as cheaply as possible. The toll on mental health is obvious in the statistics on suicide within these centres. It is a long list which includes Kimpua Nsimba, a 24 year-old Congolese man found hanged in Harmondsworth. In the last four days of his life no one had spoken to him.

There is much trauma in the lives of refugees but Refugee Radio Times also supports the building of resilience and mental health in individuals who have fled their own countries in search of safety. Pop over to https://refugeeradio.org.uk/ to listen. Buy the book which is available in the store with all profits going back into community projects supported by the charity. Read the book to learn firsthand about life as a refugee from refugees themselves. If you can, support them. The above link has a handy donate button on the top right of the screen.

Finding Peace

My daily walk with Rousay has become tedious. For the past 18 months we have been confined to short walks around the town, on the local wood- and wet-lands or nearby beaches, woods and parks. It has all become very same-y and boring. We used to enjoy long rambles on designated long distance pathways or up (and down) hills but that has all changed and both interest and fitness levels have decreased substantially. In addition, the shorter days have begun to take its toll on my energy levels and I have been feeling ‘flat’ and unenthusiastic for some time. Time for a change.

A change doesn’t have to be big. Sometimes a little change is all that is needed. I always feel better beside the sea and beach walks are a regular part of my routine. Rousay and I often enjoy a stroll along Aberdeen beach, Stonehaven beach or the short walk between Bervie and Gourdon, or, when we could walk further, even as far as Johnshaven where we would rest and have a pub lunch near the harbour before walking back along the same path. I needed a new destination to mix things up and decided on nearby Cove harbour.

I have been to Cove many times – my hairdresser is in the town- but I had never been down to the harbour. In fact, I think I have only once previously crossed the railway bridge which connects the older part of the village from the new, expanded town. The old cottages built on the sloping street can be described as quaint and old fashioned, I suppose, but the garden opposite the houses with a large statue in the centre was fresh and modern. It is a pity there isn’t a plaque to explain the monument or recognise its sculptor but it creates interest in the beholder to examine all the different facets. For me it evokes a sense of place and the village’s maritime life and history.

The view down to the sea is spectacular, even on a wet and grey day. The change from built urban landscape to rugged coast-scape and out into the wild North Sea brought a bounce of joy to my heart. Less heartening was the realisation that the downhill trek to the harbour was necesarily going to be followed by an equally steep uphill trudge back to the car!

Note the strategically placed bench halfway up the hill!

Cove harbour is not pretty but it is astoundingly beautiful. It is not a picture perfect place of little pleasure boats and seaside buckets and spades but a rugged, almost tamed haven for fishermen to shelter surrounded by large natural rocks and a small manmade concrete shield against the forces of nature. It was still and calm under the protection of the sea wall and rocks but the trawler just off shore told a different story as it rose and fell on the substantial swell of the tide. The trawler can almost be seen in the central photo below behind the spray of a crashing wave.

The beach, what there is of it, is stoney and gravelly. Nevertheless, Rousay enjoyed a good dig while I filled my pockets with seaglass, polished smooth by the waves crashing at the harbour mouth as seabirds watched from perches on rocky outcrops. I have always joked that I have saltwater in my veins but the feelings of peace and contentment I get beside the sea lends the jest a half truth.

The walk back up the hill was as vigourous as expected but Rousay and I were bouyed on with a sence of ease and tranquility. We stopped on a bench half way up to admire what view we could see through the mist and when our eyes met I think we both agreed it was a small change to our routine with big consequences for our souls.

Extreme Crochet

Crochet is what your granny used to do, right? A gentle hobby that produced cushion covers, baby blankets and the occasional odd jumper/cardigan that you had to wear to school. Wrong! It is a hobby for everyone and crochet, like knitting, has really taken off in popularity in recent years. How cool is Tom Daly in his home made jumpers?

I have knitted, on and off, over the years since I was taught how to at school. I famously knitted only one bed sock in P7. It was red and green (eeek!) I hated it so much and it took me so long that only one was ever produced. I guess I could have alternated it between my cold feet in bed but my loathing of the object and its singularity meant it was never used.

When I was pregnant with Senior Bomber my aunt Kathie came to stay and re-taught me how to knit after which I produced several items of baby clothing for all The Bombers as they appeared: cardigans, bootees, mittens, hats etc. I even decided that I would tackle a Shetland lace shawl when expecting the arrival of Tiny Bomber. The pattern had been commisioned for the birth of Princess Beatrice wth anchors and the rose of York on it but when Tiny arrived a few months later the shawl was still on the needles and remained so for many years afterwards. Infact it took eight years to complete (four small Bombers leave little time for hobbies) and there were no longer any baby Bombers to use it. I recently gave it to my first granddaughter so it has found a home at last as a family heirloom!

There was a long period after that when I put my needles away and forgot about them. Looking back it is a pity I gave up as it would have been a soothing hobby to relieve the stress of doing a PhD. Likewise with crochet. My aunt Annie, taught me to crochet Granny Squares to make cusions and blankets but I didn’t continue the hobby into adulthood.

Two concurrent events prompted me to pick up my needles and hooks again about four years ago. The first was the arrival of great nieces and nephews, (and now my own grandchildren) for whom I could create cardigans and blankets etc., and the second was through the persuasion of a friend who had taught herself to crochet and convinced me to try it again.

The usual starting place for crocheters is the above mentioned Granny Squares but I am not usually one to take a conventional route. I had a ball of unspun wool which I had bought on Uist while on a walking holiday of the Outer Hebrides so I decided to learn how to make a hat with it. And here is my only piece of advice for anyone wanting to take up crochet/knitting, especially if you cannot rely on expert aunts: watch YouTube videos! I found a simple video explanation and tutorial for a hat and proceded to make it. Of course, anyone who has worked with unspun wool will know it is not the easiest yarn to work with (the problems of the unconventional approach to life!) but I soon had a functioning hat.

What really attracted me to crochet though was the limitless possibilities of amigurumi. Amigurumi is the Japanese art of making small stuffed toys and gets its name from ami meaning crocheted or knitted, and nuigurumi meaning stuffed doll (Wikipedia). My first attempt was a Miffy doll, which I was so pleased with that I quickly followed it up with a Snoopy. I used kits from stitchandstory.com which are not cheap but come with everything needed to complete the project and extremely detailed instructions that are perfect for a beginner to follow. I have crocheted hats, cardigans and blankets, of course, but I always come back to amigurumi.

Amigurumi is easy in that there are only a couple of techniques to learn: increase, decrease and working in the round, usually with only one stitch type. The most challenging technique is probably learning to make a ‘magic ring’ which is the starting row of most amigurumi. Again, a good online tutorial will help. If the first tutorial you choose doesn’t help, try another. There are several ways to start a magic ring and it really is a case of finding the method that works for you.

Where amigurumi becomes more difficult is making small pieces such as limbs or when finishing off a sphere (head or body) with a small round of stitches. It is in these small, difficult areas that amigurumi can become an extreme hobby. Pushing a hook repeatedly through tight stitches can result in constant stabbing of the forefinger which in turn results in not only pain but callouses. Fingers cramp as one hand holds the amigurumi in place while the other strives to maintain tight stitching. Language is tested to the fullest, the air around teh extreme crocheter often attaining a blue tinge when something does not go as planned/hoped. Crochet is not the gentle hobby non-initiates believe but, as all ‘hookers’ know, it can test us to the extreme.

Crochet is a great hobby but not always as gentle as one might imagine. Still, the ugliness of the callouses, the pain and expletives give way to the joy and beauty of a toy which will bring happiness to its creator and to its new owner.

A Holiday of Firsts

I grew up in Orkney and return regularly to visit family and friends yet there remain many places on the islands I have not visited. I guess while I lived there all the attractions seemed so close and available so there was no rush to visit. Once I moved away it was more important to visit family than places.

Our recent visit, however, was very different to previous visits. For one thing, our Bombers are all grown up and no longer travel with us, or if they do they are self-sufficient and plan their own journeys. Rousay, our collie, is our travelling companion now. Also, sadly, there are less family members to visit. Coming out of the pandemic restrictions it also felt like a good time just to kick back, relax and enjoy a slower pace of holiday.

Having a dog limits the places we can go. Not everywhere is dog friendly. However, we found having to accommodate Rousay actually took us to places we had never been before and walking destinations became more important than other activities.

Broch of Gurness with Eynhallow and Rousay in the background

Our first walk was to the Broch of Gurness, an Iron Age broch and village looking over Eynhallow Sound to the islands of Eynhallow and Rousay. I had actually been to the Broch of Gurness before (many years ago) but The Wing Commander had not. Social distancing and restrictions were in place but it was very quiet when we were there and we enjoyed an uninterrupted walk around the site and into the broch.

Our second walk was a reversal of ‘firsts’. The Wing Commander had previously visited the Fishermen’s huts in Boat Geo but I had not. I had walked nearby before but had never gone to the boat huts. It was a bracing morning walk along the shore from Marwick Bay to the sheltered geo, or inlet and we were even rewarded with a glimpse of a curious seal swimming close to the shore, watching us. The huts were originally built by local fishermen to protect their boats and equipment and were recently restored.

Under a looming sky we walked up to see Kitchener’s Memorial on the other side of Marwick Bay. I am not good with heights so the short walk along the cliffs was enough for me! The memorial can be seen from a distance and I had never had the desire to visit it close up but recently, to mark the centenary since the sinking of The Hampshire and death of Lord Kitchener, a new wall has been added which lists the names of all the crew who lost their lives off the coast of Orkney when the ship, en route to Russia, was sunk by mines on the night of 5th June 1916.

Our next walk was around the Ring of Brodgar, past the excavations at Point of Ness, across the bridge between the Lochs of Harray and Stenness to the Standing Stones and finally up to the Barnhouse Settlement. The Ness excavations were, of course, covered for the winter months and the Stones are well known and we have visited many times. Always a good location for a photo, whatever the weather. However, perhaps less well known is the lovely walk past the Ring of Brodgar to Stenness Loch and along the lochside to the Watchstone, continuing on the road to the Standing Stones and then to Barnhouse Settlement.

This latter site I can be forgiven for not visiting previously as it was only discovered in 1984. Similar to the more famous Skara Brae it is a neolithic settlement with several houses. Although not as well preserved as it’s famous sister site it is a remarkable discovery. Now, I need to visit the Point of Ness excavations in the summertime when work is in progress to complete the visit to the sites on this walk.

As can often happen, the weather which was cold but dry when we started the walk, turned very wet before we returned to the car! It was time to get back to the cottage to dry out with a well earned cuppa!

Dingieshowe beach is described as ‘the perfect place for a seaside stroll, with stunning views towards Copinsay and Orkney’s east coast’. (Orkney.com) Unfortunately, our first visit there did not turn out to be a day when the views were on display! We could barely see one end of the beach from the other! Rousay enjoyed the walk at least so it wasn’t a complete bust! Skaill beach will forever be my ‘perfect place’ but I am partial to a beach walk wherever it may be.

Our holiday was very different to our usual experiences but well worth it. Having Rousay made us change pace and we all benefitted. I can’t wait for a second holiday of firsts!

Irrationally Angry

The Wing Commander’s vehicle has gone to the garage for its annual service. One of the consequences of this is that he has to borrow mine. I’m not a jealous or selfish Supreme Commander so a little car sharing is absolutely fine. Especially as he went to do the weekly grocery shop. Except, *closes eyes and takes several deep breaths*, he moved all my mirrors! And the seat! He is much taller than me so it is inevitable but it makes me irrationally angry when I jump in, can’t reach the pedals and the rear view mirror shows only the interior roof. I have no clue as to what he can possibly see with the wing mirrors all the way out there!

To recover my equilibrium I decided to finish off a crochet project. I have been making amigurumi bunnies and now they finally need stitched together. I stitched eyes into three heads … but where is the fourth one? It had rolled onto the floor behind the side table. *phew*. Now for eight bunny ears … seven? Why are there only seven? Did I forget to make one? No, I definitely made eight. With the irrational anger again rising I eventually found it under the wool basket. *double phew*.

It is definitely time for a soothing cuppa. It seems appropriate to use my new mug, which states in big bold letters, “I’ll get over it. I just need to be dramatic first”