Back of Beyond

With the pound in freefall and a strong Euro I urge those thinking of travelling to Europe to think again. Take Paris for example - what do they have that we don't have here in good old Lewis?

It's National Poetry Day today and a grand day we have for it too...



Autumn

I'm sitting in my office in the eaves
Watching as the leaves fly past. They writhe and spin
Wrenched from their branches
By the howling banshee that is the wind.
My computer screen shakes as each gust hits the house
And I am gripped by the desire to run outside
To scream and dance and be a banshee too.
But tomorrow I am 40, so instead
I click Reply and start to type.


Autumn Haiku

It's a good thing I
Am keen on wind and rain as
Winter is long here.

I thought I'd better post something after almost a year, before my blog disappears altogether. I haven't got time to write much but here's a medley of summer photos, to remind us of glorious weeks gone by...



Ahh - didn't we just have a fantastic summer?

I know, I know, long time no hear and all that. It's been a busy summer (albeit that it seems long gone already), with chances to go to lots of fabulous places. Here's two of them - Mingulay and Pabbay off Barra. One of the best days of 2007!

I'm recently back from the holiday of a lifetime - on Taransay! Unlikely I know, and it certainly seemed so when standing on a wind and rainswept Horgabost beach waiting for the RIB to come and pick us up, but as soon as we landed on Taransay we knew we'd done the right thing. We'd been worrying for days about what 3 children were going to do for a week on an uninhabited island in the rain, and had even gone out and bought emergency Tamagotchis just in case of mutiny. An hour into the holiday I realised with a sinking feeling that I'd left them behind. I decided to keep this to myself - the right strategy as it turned out, as no-one even mentioned electronic games of any description, instead turning to drawing, reading and charging around outside getting covered in sand and sheep poo. My oldest son read more in that week than in his previous 7 years. In the evenings they were so tired they couldn't stay awake long enough to have a carry on in the bedroom they were all sharing. We had wonderfully relaxing evenings sitting gazing out of the floor to ceiling windows, watching the light change over the hills and the sea with ringed plovers, dunlin and oystercatchers bustling on the shoreline and gannets plunging headlong into the waves.

It's hard to explain just why it was such a great holiday - the island is undoubtedly a magical place which takes a hold of people's imaginations, as the visitor's book testifies. But I think the really special thing about it is that there is nothing to do there. Of course, there's plenty to keep you occupied, but nothing that actually has to be done. It was liberating, inspiring and relaxing - and we'll be going back agian next year!

Here's a few photos for you.....

I am feeling a bit cross today. The reason is that I have just come off the phone to someone who demanded (in fairly challenging tones) to know when I am going to learn Gaelic. This is the second person in a week who has required this information.

It's a tricky issue. I am fully aware that I ought to make an effort, and indeed, would very much like to have an understanding of the language. Both sides of my family were native Gaelic speakers at one time, not so very long ago - my mother says she remembers her grandfather speaking it. My great great grandfather and grandmother came from Letterewe and Gairloch respectively, and on the other side, both great grandparents were from Tiree. So there's plenty of Highland and Island blood in me and mine.

My trouble is that I work 20 hours a week and have three children. Now that may sound like a lame excuse, but I genuinely don't have the mental energy to learn Gaelic in the evenings at the moment. Also I am completely inept in the linguistic field (Higher German-fail, Higher French-C on second sitting). I tried to explain this to both critics and got a lot of harrumphing.

What about your children? they asked. It would be good if you could bring them up with some Gaelic. Again, I wholeheartedly agree. When we moved to Uist from Rum, my daughter was too old to go into Gaelic medium education. My son had severe speech and language problems when he started school and struggled with one language, never mind two. With luck my third child will start in Gaelic medium in 2 years time, and I will be able to learn with him.

But the way that children are taught the two languages here in the Western Isles is fundamentally flawed. In my children's school, there is roughly an equal split between those learning in Gaelic and in English. My daughter is in a composite class and there are 3 others in her year group. There are more of that year group in the Gaelic class but never the twain shall meet. She was told (by another child) recently in the playground that Gaelic and English are not allowed to play together. Surely this is the worst possible thing! I can quite understand the argument that in order to preserve Gaelic then the children should be using it in their free time too, but surely the answer isn't segregation, but inclusion - let the English children do as much Gaelic as possible.

It's difficult for adults too. I know several people who have struggled long and hard to gain some proficiency in the language, and yet can't get native speakers to speak to them in Gaelic, or if they do, erode their confidence by constantly correcting them. One of the people I spoke to this week assured me that it was possible to become fluent in 6 months, but I just wonder how many of these people who are fortunate enough to have been brought up bilingual would take the trouble to practice what they preach if they didn't have any Gaelic.

I have also been presented with the argument that, in not speaking any Gaelic, I am being discourteous to my neighbours, and that, were I in France or Spain, I would learn the language out of courtesy. Of course I would, although more out of necessity. But this isn't France or Spain - it's Scotland, and it's my own country!

I realise that this is beginning to sound a bit anti-Gaelic and I hate that it is, because that is absolutely not my position. What I don't like is the assumption that because I am not from Lewis, complete strangers can (quite rudely) demand answers of me. I can quite honestly say that even though I have never felt as much of an outsider in my life as I have here in the Western Isles, despite being as highland/island as the best of them, I love living here and I intend to bring my family up here. It just might take me a while to get round to learning Gaelic. Anyone else got a problem with that?

The rain is battering on the veluxes and it's beginning to feel like a long winter, what with weather and colds and all. Still, picnicing on the beach is an all season activity here in Lewis. How they must laugh at us in Australia. Builds character though. These pictures were taken at Bosta beach on Great Bernera two weeks ago. The weather looks lovely, but it was so cold we had our picnic in the car. What a bunch of southern softy shandypants' we are.

Happy New Year everyone! Here's a little poem for January...





Dogger, Fisher, German Bight
Once again the weather's s****
Howling wind, cold rain and hail
Calmac's boats will never sail
Today

Lundy, Fastnet, Irish Sea
Looks about Force Ten to me
The bin's away; blown down the croft
It's ragged contents swirl aloft
Again

Rockall, Malin, Hebrides
I'm fed up with days like these
It's still dark at half past ten
When will we see the sun again?
Ever?

Fair Isle, Faroes, South East Iceland
Sorry kids, the veg is still canned
I'm cooking tea by naked flame
Oh Lord, don't send us more the same
Tomorrow

lllll

Nearly a fortnight ago I went up The Clisham, the highest hill in Harris, with some friends. It was a beautiful still day, the sun was shining and there was no wind. We set off along the old post road at the back of ten, with me worrying whether or not I could keep up with them and the dog rubbing it in by charging off ahead and doubling back every few minutes.

I had been up this hill twice before, once in the snow some 14 years ago and again in June this year, to celebrate my 10th wedding anniversary (well it seemed like a good idea at the time; the walk that is, not the wedding), and both times the hill had seemed formidable; its summit always further out of reach no matter how much I climbed. On both occasions I had returned utterly knackered. Not this time though, I told myself, third time lucky.

How I laughed at my absurd optimism some three hours later, as my legs steadfastly refused to go any further up the near vertical slope, beyond which, I knew, the summit lay. Or at least I would have been laughing had I not been hyperventilating. The dog loped back to check on the hopeless case, having been to the top and back three times already. I made a face at him. He looked back at me pityingly. Right, I thought, that's the final straw, I'm going to get to the top of this b****** if it kills me, which it very likely will.

One superhuman effort later....and this is what we saw...........



I've seen a Brockenspectre before, but this one was amazing. Well worth all the effort to get to the top. Shortly afterwards, the cloud came down and we got completely soaked, but did we care...?