Don’t Laugh

Both of my sisters are quite artistic. I am not – I have accepted that. I do have nice penmanship; that must count for something.

Several weeks ago I met a very nice neighbour as we were both out walking our dogs. As so often happens we got chatting, first about the weather, then the dogs, then my accent, then my move here (these conversations follow a pattern). But, unlike other ships-that-pass-on-the-pavement, we didn’t just leave it at that; she took things a step further and asked me to join her weekly walking group, which I thought was awfully kind of her.

These 8 – 10 people (almost all are retirees) meet every Friday afternoon and, weather-permitting, follow one of the Kirkwall trails for an hour, then stop for a coffee. I’m really enjoying it: I get to see new local trails; they are an absolute font of local information (I am now saving big-time on my ferry rides and I found a place to rent a power drill (don’t ask)); and they have all made me feel very welcome.

Earlier this month one of the ladies (I think she’s the ringleader) suggested something a little different: instead of going for a walk the following week, we were going to try our hand at painting ceramics! All week I practiced my hedgehog drawings – it had to be a hedgehog, because you see, my family decided years ago that I like hedgehogs (well, I do, but I now have an awful lot of them, including one remarkably dramatic version in my garden in Milton) – so I would be ready on the day.

It was a lot of fun, the coffee in the workshop/café was particularly good, and I think the whole group really enjoyed themselves. Here’s my output. Don’t laugh.