OMG, it seems I’m going from one major upheaval to another. I’ve just been advised by my Milton tenants that their new home will be ready this fall, and they have formally given me notice that they will be moving out of my place in mid-October. To be fair, I knew this was coming – in fact they had anticipated being gone by early 2022, so every month they stayed beyond then was a bonus. They’re so nice; I am very happy for their sake that their new place will finally be ready as I know they are keen to get settled.
At the same time I have people expressing interest in renting. But how do I in all good conscience rent to someone all the while knowing that I may have to boot them out because I may be booted from Orkney? But I can’t not rent; I count on the rental income to finance my life here.
Or maybe I don’t move back to the Milton house right away. Maybe I leave Scotland and buy an RV and travel Canada for a year? I mean, why not – it is something I have been pondering since I retired – now is the time to do it, while I’m still young enough to deal with managing a house on a truck, and while I still have Scout. This now begs the question – do I change my Driver’s License to a UK version? If I do, I have to surrender my Ontario license. I’ve been told it can take a while to process a new DL in Britain – do I start now even though I don’t know where I’ll be living?
At least I’m not over-reacting. Over-dramatizing? Maybe.
Okay, this is weird, I know. But there’s something I don’t understand about British produce (well, apart from the fact that they love to wrap every piece of produce in plastic film). It’s their green (or spring) onions. They’re dirty.
I love spring onions – I cook with them pretty much every day. I like the nice, fragrant, bright green tops that I use in salads and Asian recipes and as garnish, and I like the crispy, flavourful, white parts that I use in recipes. I’d never thought of it until now, but they’re probably my favourite vegetable.
But the ones sold here are filthy. They’re full of dirt. Yes, before anyone feels a need to point out the obvious, I do know that onions grow in dirt. And like any produce should be washed before using. But I don’t mean the exterior of the plants, or the root. I don’t even mean those hinge-y places where one layer grows out of the main stem (altho, in Canada there’s not dirt there either). I mean the inside of the ‘tubes’. They’re open (cut off at the top) and full of grit. That isn’t the case in Canada.
It’s not as if during my entire adult life I’ve been buying hydroponically-grown green onions; I buy regular bunches at all the grocery stores and farmers’ markets and I’ve been growing them in my garden for the last two decades. Both the green onions I buy, and the ones I grow are closed at the top, pointed as they grow. And therefore, grit-free.
I can (and usually do) slice the green tops open and wash the centres of the tube before using them here, but it’s annoying. And odd. How are European onions dirtier than North American ones? Ah, well, the things I lie awake and think about are endless, it seems.
My mind has been racing for the last week. Some of the thoughts are: I had always said it would be a 12 – 24 month sabbatical, so do I just go home in October – that would be 12 months. Do I want to stay another year – will it be all that different or just more of the same? What about all the European travel I had intended? Can I find another place here – I see people on social media all the time looking in vain. I have so much ‘stuff’ as this is now a fully furnished three-bedroom house. I was even planning on buying lawn chairs! And I hate selling things. Hate it. I admire people who take the time to post on Kijiji and meet the buyer, and sell each item – God, even thinking about it has me wanting to go and lie down until I feel better.
What if I can’t find somewhere? Will I leave early? I know my cousin had been counting on me to bring her dad down to Kent for Christmas – I was looking forward to spending the holidays with them too. Maybe I stay in the UK an extra two months, travelling around (yes, because Great Britain in November is just delightful).
Or do I look elsewhere in the UK? I think it has to be the UK, as I have health coverage here – I’m not sure what the implications of moving to France or Germany would be (might not even be an option – stupid Brexiteers). Maybe not Shetland – that’s just too far. Are the Hebrides too remote? Does it have to be an island? Does is have to Scotland? Northern Ireland seemed lovely when I was there. Or what about the Isle of Man? I loved Yorkshire – maybe a village in the north of England? Oh dear, too many ideas, too many options.
Back when I was moving here, I was warned over and over again by locals on social media that finding a home to rent on Orkney was as ‘rare as hens’ teeth’. I was turned down twice for places I applied for (I’m assuming it was that the owners were anti-pet – it couldn’t have been me they took against). In fact, the day I flew out of Toronto I still didn’t have a place. I arrived in Scotland on Oct 5th, and it wasn’t until the 13th that I was approved for this house (I was already halfway up the highlands when that notice arrived – there was dancing in Inverness that day). In the approval letter the management company mentioned that the owners might be selling the property in one year’s time – was I still interested in renting in spite of that? Well, I was so desperate to get into a place that I said, not only was I willing to rent, I might even be in the market to buy it from them (not a likely option; by then I had decided the plan was to stay no more than 24 months). I only said that in order to cement the offer – I would have said anything to get the house. I took it sight unseen, didn’t care, just wanted a place to live. And, as it happens, it has all worked out very nicely, thank you very much.
And then it happened. Last week I opened my inbox to find an email from the owners. They are considering selling. Oh dear. I knew it could happen – I was really really just hoping it would happen later rather than sooner.
Did I want to chat with them about buying? I said yes, not because I intend to buy a property here, but because I wanted to find out how committed they were to selling. I even considered offering them a financial incentive to postpone the sale (not sure how ethical that is, or even legal in Scotland).
But, by the end of the conversation it seemed inevitable that at some point in the future, this house will be up for sale. Landlords in Scotland must give 12 weeks’ notice which means mid-October at the very earliest.
God – this is a lot to take in. A lot to think about. And I cope with change so well.
I thought I’d share what my diet looks like here in Orkney. (This is not what my dining is like when travelling. Then, all bets are off.)
Breakfast is either porridge, an egg, or more often than not, some leftovers. I don’t mind soup for breakfast; in fact, in the winter, I’d pop some leftover soup into the slow cooker while Scout & I went out for our morning walk and I’d have a nice warm bowlful when I got home.
I have lunch at home probably six days a week. They’re either homemade soup – I use that little slow cooker at least once a week – or I’ll make up two or three bento boxes at a time, a couple of times a week. As I’m not a big meat-eater, they’re usually vegetarian and often with an Asian theme (I was so impressed with the range of Asian ingredients available in Orkney: I can get gochujang, miso paste, lemon grass, nori, you name it). I will also make vegetable fritters a lot to use what’s left in the crisper: my favourites are Korean jeon (thin veggie pancakes), but I do Middle Eastern vegetable fritters called ejjeh too.
There are some very good food trucks around Kirkwall & Stromness, so about once a week Scout & I will get in the car and head out for lunch, eating in my parked car while reading a book and admiring the view, then a hike on one of the trails. Food trucks seem to serve mostly meat butties ( bacon or sausage sandwiches – I have no idea why they’re called butties), meat pies, and chips, but there are also a couple that are a tad more exotic. Not the healthiest, but the hike is my excuse to indulge. *I admit to having meat pies about twice a month – they are soooo good. Yesterday I went into town for some thread. We passed my favourite bakery, Argos, so I went in and got a Scotch pie. Then, on the way home we passed my second favourite bakery, Rendall’s, so I went in there and picked up a pastie. Two meat-in-pastry meals in two days, oh dear. (I’m having the Scotch pie tonight for dinner, yum.)
Dinners fall into three categories: homemade, takeaway, or dining out. I cook my own dinner probably five days a week – usually either pasta dishes, or what I would call Reid family food. The former are usually vegetarian or seafood, and the latter tend to be things we grew up with: mince & tatties, a lamb chop, grilled fish, or stews. For takeaway, (about once every one or two weeks), my choices are somewhat limited. I usually end up with Indian or Chinese, because they’re a short walk from my house and the vegetarian choices are really good. I would like to order from the Turkish Kabab House (it smells so good when I walk by), but they don’t seem to have any vegetarian options (other than chips. Everyone serves chips. Everyone.) I haven’t been that impressed with the pizzas I’ve had in Scotland, so I haven’t had that as a takeout choice.
About once every couple of weeks I’ll go out for dinner. I try to go to dog-friendly pubs and restaurants. And I always order locally-sourced meals like lamb, fish, seafood, the local cheeses, etc… At first it seemed like every pub was exactly like every other pub: Grimbister Cheese starter, fish & chips or shepherd’s pie, and so on. But I’ve done my research (eating out a lot and asking friends and neighbours) and now have a bit of a roster of what I can get & where: the duck at The Storehouse is delicious; ditto the fish tacos & the cauliflower bites at Twenty-One.
I would say that overall my diet is relatively healthy: mostly vegetarian, mostly homemade, and mostly locally sourced. If I slip up anywhere, it is those damned meat pies. But I figure, once I’m back in Canada they will be a thing of the past, so enjoy them while I can.
A couple of weeks ago I was chatting with some people and was talking about the process involved in getting here from Canada. I mentioned the day I received my U.K. passport and said, “I was so pleased when it arrived. I was a Brit!” Without missing a beat, one of the guys there said, “No, you’re not; that doesn’t make you British.” He said it relatively quietly and I didn’t respond at the time, as the conversation continued on as we were all chatting and talking over one another.
But I got thinking about it afterwards. Imagine that scenario in Canada. If someone came in and announced, “Hey, I just got my citizenship – I’m a Canadian!”, what would any Canadian say in that situation? We’d say, “Congratulations!” “Yay for you!” “That’s great news – you’re one of us!” This guy wasn’t trying to be mean or rude, he obviously just said what was in his head. And technically, he was right; receiving my U.K. passport didn’t make me British. Being born prior to 1983 to parents born in Scotland made me British the day I was born. In fact, as I am older than this guy, I’ve been British as least a decade longer than he has. But it does make you think about how the Brits feel about their nationality.
Currently there is a race on for the leadership of the U.K. Conservative Party (and therefore the role of Prime Minister). The news has been playing this one video clip over and over of one of the MPs who is in contention for the role, Rishi Sunak. In the clip, from many years ago, he is talking about knowing people of all classes. He rattles off having friends of each of the classes, including working class, then pauses and qualifies his statement, “well, not working class”. Can you imagine any Canadian politician talking about the ‘class’ of friends or acquaintances that they have? Can you imagine having that conversation with any Canadian at all?
I love living here. I like the people I meet here. But sometimes I do miss the Canadian frame of mind.
Over the last couple of weeks, excuse me, fortnight, three different people have asked me the same two questions: what does a typical day look like for me, and what types of meals do I have?
So, I thought I’d share a typical day/week (when I’m not driving up and down the A9 being a tourist) in this post, and my diet in the next.
I’m an early riser (currently the long days are really helping with that), and the very first thing I do is have a cup of tea. It’s a religious moment – I imagine this is how smokers feel about their first drag of the day. I have two cups of tea while reading the online newspapers and social media (I use Twitter as a form of news gathering – I don’t follow anyone I know, only public figures or news sites). Then Scout & I go for our first walk of the day – usually 30 – 45 minutes. We can head in any direction and be in either a park, country fields, the shore, in town, or just in this neighbourhood. So each day is a different walk.
Then housework – a half hour or so each morning, then I sit down at my desk for what I refer to as ‘my work’. For about two hours or so I: work on my blog, look after my finances, reply to people’s emails, write actual letters (I have a few family members or friends of my parents that I write paper letters to, so that’s about one per week). I also look after my women’s group’s technology, pay bills, research possible trips (I’m hoping Scandinavia will be next, or maybe an overnight shopping trip to Glasgow, Edinburgh, Dublin, or Belfast), and sometimes do some proofreading for friends.
Lunches are usually either bento boxes or buddha bowls (my meals must be alliterative it seems) that I batch make, three or four at a time, in advance. I probably have lunch out once or twice a week, either local pubs or food trucks.
Afternoons we head out: often driving to a beach, hiking trail, or historic site for a walk – I listen to a lot of podcasts and audio books on these walks (currently listening to Kermode & Mayo’s Movie Reviews and Alan Cumming’s autobiography). Recently more of our afternoon walks include heading into town to check out the tourists – I don’t know why I find that so entertaining, but I do.
I probably meet a friend for coffee once a week or so. Ditto walking our dogs – we meet up with a different friend or neighbour every so often for a walk. I go to yoga twice a week and my walking group meets Friday afternoons. I probably have one ‘appointment’ each week: hair, massage, pedicure, dentist, etc… and I visit the library at least once a week. I’ve started attending services at St Magnus Cathedral on Sundays.
Dinners fall into three categories: most evenings I make my dinner (will address dining in next post); probably once a week I dine out at a local pub or restaurant; and once a fortnight or so I get takeaway.
I have a few Canadian friends who set up regular monthly Zoom calls for us when I left, so probably every week or every other week I’m visiting with them (afternoon for them, evening for me), which is really nice – I’m glad they did that. I am a member of a group that meets at the library monthly, also in the evenings. But for the most part my evenings are either watching TV or reading (much like at home). I quite like curling up on the sofa with Scout and a book, and I even set my computer up such that I have a YouTube channel playing music (I turn the volume on that way down) on one screen, and another channel with a fireplace on my larger monitor (I turn the volume way up on that one). I even have the fire going in the summer evenings when it is still light out (because it is also still cold 😊).
I make a point of not looking at emails, social media, etc after suppertime. A short yoga bedtime routine, then in bed by 11pm.
Well, I gotta say, re-reading that it does make my life seem quite mundane, but I suppose that most people’s lives, if broken down hour by hour, would seem fairly ho-hum. Or at least that’s what I’m telling myself.
I like gadgets. I brought my logitech camera with me when I moved here; I bought a RocketBook as soon as I heard about them; I have more than one stand for my cell phone; I just got a new power bank; there was that retro mini crockpot that I fell in love with (and use at least twice a week); I’m even considering bringing my desk lamp back to Canada when I return because I think it’s cute.
My latest purchase is probably too big to call a ‘gadget’. I just bought a sewing machine! It’s a Bernina 707 from the late 1960’s and it’s cast iron – often referred to as the Rolls Royce of sewing machines. Seriously. I didn’t make that up. I bought it from a lady who lives a few streets away by going on Orkney Merkit on FaceBook. I’m not really much of a seamstress; the last piece of clothing I made from a pattern was a toddler’s sundress for my best friend’s daughter’s first birthday. She’s now in her mid-twenties, so it’s been a while.
But when you’re 5′ tall, often things need hemming. I was taking items to a local seamstress (she teaches sewing classes), but that’s not all that cheap. I figure I can sell this for what I paid for it and hem my new jeans and fix the waistband of my skirt in the meantime.
I signed up for yoga classes a few weeks ago – they’re pretty good. I have to keep looking over to see what pose the instructor wants us to do next, because ‘shavasana’, ‘tadasana’, and ‘dhanurasana’ are all hard to understand when spoken in an Orcadian accent. Last week, as I unrolled my mat and sat down, I heard something unusual. I couldn’t put my finger on it at first and then I realized: the instructor was chatting with a lady who had a Canadian accent (at least I think it was Canadian – if not, it was a very non-regional American accent). Clearly this woman was now a local as they were chatting about common friends. It was all I could do not to jump up, rush over, and proclaim loudly, “Hi! I’m Canadian. Will you be my friend?” I restrained myself. I admit I did try to chat with the ladies on either side of me so she could hear my accent. But, they were too engrossed in their conversation, then it was time to start the class. Yesterday, I wore my Canada Strong facemask into class, but I don’t think she was there. I will play it cool going forward.
This morning I got chatting online with a woman who is moving to Orkney. She had just signed on to rent a house just up the road from my neighbourhood and is starting to furnish her place. She was on an FB page and I replied that I had just been through the same thing and if she wanted, I could give her some recommendations. When she replied, she told me the rental had be a scam and she had lost her deposit. I felt so bad for her. It’s hard enough trying to find a place here without that added insult to injury. When I had made my first e-transfer to the Property Management company back in October, HSBC phoned me and some man spent a good 15 minutes on the phone quizzing me about the e-transfer, and was I sure it wasn’t a scam? Seriously, the banker went on and on, and just wouldn’t take my word that I had been in the house, had the keys, had been to the property management office, and was confident this was not a scam. Now I see why. Poor girl.
This morning Scout & I chatted with some new neighbours – last fall it was sheep in this field around the corner from our house – now it’s cattle grazing there.
Just had an interesting conversation with a young woman who lives here in Orkney. When she found out I was Canadian, she said, “Oooh, you’re so lucky! You’ve got Justin Trudeau!”
Well, I assumed this was a reference to the fact that the Canadian Prime Minister is infinitely more competent than what’s on tap in the UK (to be fair, a badger with a drug habit would be more competent than what’s-his-hair in Westminster). But no, she went on to say, “Trudeau is so hot. You are so lucky he’s your prime minister”. As if somehow we get to date whichever of our members of parliament we would like.
I was going to point out that in Canada we try to look to our leaders to work in the best interests of the country, that our prime ministers have significant constitutional responsibilities, and that, whether one likes him or not, Trudeau is a reasonably sensible man trying to do his best based the counsel of the cabinet, and so on. But before I could say any of this, she went on to say, “And don’t you love his new haircut?”
