One day last month, just after a light dusting of snow (and I do mean light), a little girl ran up to us on our walk and squealed excitedly, “It snowed!” I looked at her with contempt and sneered, “That’s not snow.” No, of course I didn’t; I scrunched up my shoulders like hers and squealed back, “I know, isn’t it fun?”

Today Scout & I headed down to Scapa Beach (dead seal count: 2. She sniffed both and rolled in neither – this is progress). It was very windy, we walked the length of the beach, and on the way back it started to snow. Well, not really snow. I’ve realized something – I have not seen a single snowflake on this island. Any snow we have had has really been teeny, tiny bits of hail, and has arrived horizontally. I don’t know if Orkney has ever experienced that heavy, gentle, silent, fluffy snowfall that we get back home, big fat flakes that you can catch on your tongue, or that rest on your eyelashes. It may be that it doesn’t get cold enough for that kind of snow here. It’s February and we’re hovering around the 4° – 7° Celsius mark (the wind chill brings it down to a frosty -1°C) – combine that with the ever present wind, and maybe hail is all they know?

It is a very Scottish expression to ‘do one’s messages’. That means to run errands. I don’t remember ever hearing my mother say it, so it was relatively new to me and I assumed it was maybe a highland turn of phrase. But my uncle uses it, as do the locals here in Orkney, as well as a friend of mine back in Milton who was born in Scotland. And in Britain, ‘the High Street’ is what North Americans might call Main Street, or even more specifically ‘Main St, USA’, referring to the primary downtown shopping & business street.

This is Albert Street, Kirkwall’s High Street, and at first glance one could easily assume it was a pedestrian-only walkway, as it is very narrow, windy, (that’s a long ‘i’ as in twisting around, not blowing around), brick & cobbled lane. Many stores welcome dogs, some food-based shops very sensibly do not. This is Scout, waiting patiently as I get my messages. I used to tie her up directly outside the shop I’m in now, but then I realized just how close the cars come to its front door. So she sits across the street and watches and waits.

I forgot to mention one of my other IKEA purchases – a little round hanger for drying clothes like socks, underwear, etc. I know I should be using the rotary drying stand in the back yard more often, but I really don’t see the point, when I know it is going to rain at some point each day. I see people with their drying out on the line, and I find myself wondering how often they have to haul it in soaking wet due to a sudden downpour.

But I thought this little guy would be very handy for smaller items, indoors, so I ordered it. As usual, when it comes to me and ordering online, something has gone wrong. The main hook at the top doesn’t fit over any of the railings in my house. The only place the hook works is if I open a kitchen cupboard and hang it on the handle there. Just what I wanted whilst cooking, damp socks and underwear dangling in my face, and absorbing the cooking smells. Nuts. (Yes, those are googly eyes – I guess IKEA figured that if you were going to have an 8-armed round hanger, it might as well have a personality.)

And, as a follow-up to yesterday – I did get the second guest bed assembled, and the bed linen is in place. I’m now all ready for visitors. There was one piece missing when I was finishing the second one – I don’t think I’ll mention that to guests and just hope they pick the more stable of the two beds. After all, how important could that dowel be?

I really thought after yesterday’s efforts that I would sleep like a log all night. As well as all the IKEA assembly, we had done two major walks, and on the second one, I stopped at the Garden Centre and picked up and carried home a 20L bag of soil. So when I went to bed at 10:30, I figured that, in spite of my normal insomnia, that had to be me out for the next eight hours easily.

Nope. I woke at 12:15 and that was me wide awake. After an hour of tossing, I put on an audio book (one I had listened to before, with a soothing British voice) in hopes that would lull me back to sleep. At 3:00 I got up and made a cup of hot milk. At 4:00 I got up and made a one-egg omelette wrap. Finally at 5:03, I thought I might doze off. I checked to make sure I had nothing to do today (not as ridiculous as it sounds – my social calendar is picking up), and decided to try closing the heavy outer curtains in hopes of blocking out the morning light.

All the windows in the house have regular blinds that do a good job of providing privacy and a fair job blocking light, and that’s all I’ve used so far this winter. But each bedroom also has heavy, thick, fully lined curtain. I have to think that, come June, when the sky is light from 3:30a.m. to 11:00 p.m., people here need those curtains to get a decent night’s sleep.

Well, they work – the room was pitch dark and stayed that way, and the only reason I am up now and not still asleep is a 62lb, 4-legged alarm clock.

I was very excited to receive my guest room & dining room furniture shipment from Ikea first thing this morning. Got over that feeling fast.

Fortunately I decided to start on the dining room chairs and table first (Voxlöv & Mariedamm respectively if anyone is interested), because, dear God the guest beds were horrific. I should say “guest bed was horrific” as I gave up after the first one. As usual, this is partly my fault; I did buy the cheapest bedframe they had. But I didn’t realize difficulty in assembly and price were inversely related. Had I started with the beds, the dining room would still be in the box.

Halfway through, I considered throwing the bed out into the driveway and writing family and friends and telling them they weren’t allowed to come and stay, but that seemed a tad over-dramatic. So I persevered. There was a fair amount of good, healthy Anglo-Saxon bandied about and at one point I may have shouted one word in particular at the top of my lungs. As my neighbour was walking by. Oops.

That got me thinking (I had nothing else to do as I was Ikea-key screwing in 32 fiddly little screws) – maybe I should start swearing in Québécois. I feel fairly safe in saying that next to no one here would recognize or be offended by a tab&@#ak or a cr!$$ % m@*de!

A kind fellow dog-walker texted me a list of some good beaches for Scout. One was Aikerness at the village of Evie. So we headed out this morning, but I made a wrong turn and after driving quite a ways down a single track, I ended up here at the Broch of Gurness, an Iron Age village.

I’ve been here before with my sister and nephew – I think my sister made friends with an Historic Scotland employee that day (but that’s her story to tell, not mine) – it is a fascinating settlement in breathtaking countryside. It’s over 2,000 years old, and as well as the Iron Age dwellings they uncovered, they have found Roman amphorae, Viking artefacts, Norse jewellery, and Pictish homes. It really is like walking through history, and then when I turned and headed back up the hill, the history continued as I was surrounded by farm houses and stone fences that were at least 100 and possibly 200 years old. (As an aside, that single-lane track that winds around the fields and over the hills has a speed limit of 100 km/h. Just sayin’.)

We did head on to the Sands of Evie to check them out – an absolutely lovely beach on a sunny day. I’m getting better at identifying the local birds – we saw oyster catchers, eider ducks, greylag geese, a grouse, and an extremely camera-shy grey seal. I swear he knew what a camera was and was taunting me by hiding every time I got my phone out, and bobbing up every time it went back in my pocket.

We walked for miles. The car is filthy, the dog is exhausted, and I can feel the sand in my hair – a great day!!!!!

Oh dear, getting a television license was a bad idea. (A) For reasons I have yet to figure out, they are charging me the full 12-month cost in the 5 months between now and July (note to self: call them today!).

(B) Instead of getting things done around the house, I have spent the last 2 days bingeing Around the World in 80 Days, followed by the Central England episodes of Great British Menu. And the Olympics. So, I have gritty floors, a hamper of dirty clothes, and the dog really needs a bath. But I have seen a hot air balloon, scallops with black garlic and samphire, and a lot of women’s curling (happy for GB, sad for Canada). And there are still so many shows I haven’t even found yet! As I said before, oh dear.

My first week in Scotland I ordered a Caesar salad in a pub. It came tossed with red pepper and hard boiled eggs; I haven’t ordered one since. I have seen it on menus since then – one included green beans. So today, in Tesco’s, I saw a small bottle of Caesar salad dressing and thought, “ooh, yum.”

I also wanted some rolls, so I picked up a package of Butteries. They look like hamburger rolls, perfect for a sandwich. Once I got home I looked at them more closely: they are very flat – it didn’t look like they would be easy to split. So I looked them up on the internet and it seems that butteries are more of a breakfast indulgence, eaten with jam and very rich – every description included words like ‘highly caloric’, ‘decadent’, ‘high fat content’, and ‘full of butter’. So not really what I had wanted (first person to point out that the clue was in the name gets blocked from my blog).

Instead of a sandwich, I used them to make the best croutons I have ever had. The Caesar salad was delicious.

Post Script: on another note, we’ve had another dead seal encounter. No blood or guts, just a reeks-to-high-heaven maritime pong.

In the UK, in order to have access to TV channels, you are required by law to hold an annual TV license (sort of like our cable bills, but this is government-run and funds the BBC). When I moved here I decided not to spend the money as I am not a big TV-watcher. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not one of those “oh, I think there’s nothing worth watching on TV” types; I just already spend way too much time on YouTube, Netflix, Amazon Prime, BritBox, etc. And I get my news by subscribing to online newspapers. I was a little disappointed when I arrived to discover that no TV license also means no access to BBC’s iPlayer (plays BBC shows after airing, sort of like CBC Gem), but, as I said, I really do watch too much online already.

I received a letter addressed to Occupant yesterday and I nearly didn’t open it, thinking it was junk mail. But I did open it his morning – turns out it was a threatening notice from something called tvlicensing.co.uk. In large, bold, red font it warned me that “you could be at risk of breaking the law.” Sounds exactly like every one of those scam phone calls from the “CRA” – I nearly tore it up. It warned me that if I hadn’t replied by a certain date in February, my address would “be passed to the Dundee Enforcement Agency”. I went online – turns out it’s legit – the government monitors each house address to see if they have a license, and if not, immediately become suspicious and get in touch.

But, I figured all I had to do was pick the option stating I didn’t need a license, as I don’t own a television. Then I started reading the fine print and it seems that even streaming a show on my computer requires a license. By that I assumed they meant live-streaming of news channels or something, so still not my problem. But no, it turns out that even the two or three times I’ve streamed a YouTube Q&A on travel or a live YouTube logic puzzle video without a license, I’ve been breaking the law.

So, I’ve got a couple of options: pay the £159 annual fee, or tell them I don’t watch live TV/streaming, and make sure to never click on one of those videos again. They did warn that if I chose the latter, they could still send someone to my home to verify my claims. You should see what it says on Wikipedia about their various forms of monitoring and enforcement: “Enquiry Officers”, “TV Detector Vans”, and “Search Warrants” are only a few of the ways they check up on us. To paraphrase Dr Johnny Fever, “These TV cops play hardball.”

I’m getting the license.

For most of my adult life I have lived within 30km of one of North America’s largest airports. Getting anywhere has always been fairly easy (if you don’t think about GTA’s rush hour traffic).

It’s not so easy when you are trying to get somewhere from an island. I’m currently trying to work out how to get from my house to Heathrow. Do I:

1. Fly Kirkwall to LHR with at least one stop-over?
2. Ferry then drive to Inverness and fly to LHR?
3. Take the overnight ferry to Aberdeen and fly to LHR?
4. Fly (or ferry & drive) to Inverness and take the Caledonian Sleeper train into central London and the Underground to LHR?

And what about staying overnight? I can’t make Kirkwall to LHR all in one day and be assured of not missing my flight. Do I:

1. Stay overnight at a B&B near Heathrow that I stayed in 22 years ago?
2. Stay in a sensible airport hotel at LHR?
3. Stay at an airport hotel in Inverness?
4. Sleep on the train or ferry?

The factors impacting my planning are: the obvious – Money; the convenience – Time; and the surprising – Weather (can’t fly or sail off an island in a storm).

Yes, yes, yes, I know – first world problems, Lainey. Well, back to planning – there must be a way to maximize convenience, minimize cost, and mitigate weather.