Yep – we are awaiting a suitcase, yet again. This time it’s not mine, but rather my friend LL from Calgary. We believe her main suitcase made it as far as Dublin, and should arrive at the hotel any time now.
Obviously our way of coping with this stress was to go out for a nice lunch. The chef at Noto Restaurant in central Edinburgh was on one of our favourite cooking competitions, so we went there for our first meal together in months. LL and I dine together better than anyone I know. Our excitement was palpable – the wait staff could tell we were just so happy to be there. (Of course, they could just have been reacting to our choice of wine – we won’t be spending like that every day)
There was tartare, truffles, trout, and tap water (just keeping it real with that last one) and it was the best culinary experience I’ve had since COVID.

We then headed to a drugstore to replace her missing toothbrush, deodorant, moisturizer (shades of the Seine all over again). And then the foodhalls at Marks & Spencer – yippee! We thought we’d have a light dinner in our room, so quite sensibly we headed straight to the cans of gin & tonic, then the wine section, then junk food. At that point we then headed over to the crackers and cheese (something has to absorb that wine).`

Scout and I went to one of the many dog-friendly pubs in Leith – it was fun, and busy, and vibrant, and made me think, I may just be getting a tad too used to my safe, sensible, and insular Scottish existence. This neighbourhood is full of families, and young people, and dog-owners, and different ethnicities. The last is particularly pleasing to my eyes after 7 monochromatic months in Orkney. Now don’t get me wrong, I am not passing judgement – just because I got it into my head to live in Orkney, does not mean the rest of the world is dying to move to a remote northern island. But I gotta admit, I felt more at home on streets that included people from all walks of life.

Another adventure
Yes, I’m off again. This is a visit I’ve been looking forward to for months – a friend is coming to stay for the month of May.
I’m picking her up in Edinburgh (’cause everyone has to see Edinburgh at least once – or in my case, several times) and after a few days here, we’re wending our way north through the highlands before heading back to Orkney for some rest, relaxation, and exploration.

So, today was another looooong driving day. We left the house at 7:30am, and pulled into our hotel in Leith (Edinburgh’s harbour) at 5pm. I had been warned about the construction in town, so the last half hour wasn’t as fraught as it might have been had I come upon it unawares. But I was bagged. (And I think Scout was a tad stir crazy – she gets at least 4 walks on driving days: home, before ferry, after ferry, Golspie beach, and The House of Bruar hills, but even with those, nine hours is a long time for a dog in a car.) In fact, on one of those stops, at The House of Bruar, we saw the remnants of a bad-looking car accident and while we were wandering the fields behind the shops we saw an ambulance-helicopter air lift someone out. 🙁

But we made it to Leith – as I mentioned earlier, I have been to Edinburgh several times and honestly, how many times can you see the Royal Mile? So when planning for this visit, I did some digging, and found out that Leith, formerly quite a rough town (port city, drug issues, etc) has been undergoing a gentrification. A Michelin-starred restaurant I’ve always wanted to visit is here, as is the Royal Yacht Britannia (the former ship of the Queen), and Leith is only a 30 minute walk from Princes St. Oh, and I love the movie Sunshine on Leith. So I booked us in at a dog-friendly hotel (Pillars House – the concierge sent a lovely welcoming email).

Well, we arrived in Leith. It’s, um . . . gritty. Now, some of the things adding to the ‘grit’ aren’t really Leith’s fault – it’s overcast, there is an insane amount of construction right around the hotel, and well, the grey stone of Scottish buildings, while sturdy and long-lasting, looks old fast. To add to the overall sense of ‘a city with issues’, there was a Mercedes in the secret hotel car park when we arrived, with 4 rather scary looking gentlemen sitting in it, and clouds of weed smoke drifting out of the windows (I believe cannabis is still illegal in the UK). Our hotel is actually a B&B ( how did I miss that?) and the rooms are tiny – LL, Scout and I, along with our suitcases, have to fit into this room. And it turns out that post-COVID, the second B in B&B is moot. Nae brekkie. Well, there are cookies and juice boxes in the room. Hmm. Okay. On the other hand – the owner was sooo welcoming, they clearly love dogs here (they’ve offered to dog-sit when we’re out) and the room is scrupulously clean.
And LL is pretty chill and always willing to go with the flow, so here’s hoping for a nice week in Edinburgh and Leith!

The following are some of the things I saw on yesterday’s hike up Muddisdale with my walking group.

Lambs arrive later in the spring this far north, so these are the first I’ve seen since leaving Kent last month. These twins were curious about us, but hied off to Mummy when we got too close. You can see the farmer’s mark on the little guy on the right – the lambs are given the same number as their mother to help with identification – sort of like what George Foreman did with his sons, naming them all George (although in that case, I would have to think that made identification harder, not easier). These two are called 64.

Snake’s head fritillary – I like the name almost as much as I like the look of the flower.

A local artist made this Chevrolet truck entirely out of stone. I believe an American offered to purchase it and have it shipped home, but the artist declined. It’s full scale. I believe he has also made a full scale stone Orkney Chair.

I got back from my holiday and took a couple of days to get over my cold, then was ready to resume my normal routines. Earlier this week I started to notice some changes had taken place in town – it’s tourist season!

The cruise ships have started to arrive. The newspaper publishes a list of the ships, their arrival & departure dates & times, and their capacity. The same is posted on the harbourmaster’s website. Massive coaches are now on the roads, or parked in lay-bys meant to fit a Vauxhall Astra, while tourists wander down the middle of the road, or climb fences, cameras in hand. One tourist was spotted wandering down the middle of the Churchill Barriers – imagine Trafalgar Road, but one lane, and no sidewalks or shoulders, just ocean on either side – the speed limit is 100km/hr.

In the village they have closed off the road that I had thought was a pedestrian-only lane in the first place, presumably to allow the tourists to do more shopping. It seems like the town made this decision without advising the businesses along said road, who count on vans and trucks bringing them deliveries on a daily basis. Oops. I have heard both fiddlers and pipers busking along the harbour front.

On social media, the locals are giving one another ‘heads-up’ warnings about where the main tour buses are going and which roads and sites to avoid. No one is complaining – I think after two long, shut-down years, everyone recognizes how much Orkney needs the tourist trade.

I am doing my very best to at least look local, taking Scout everywhere I go. (And while I don’t sound Scottish, I do most definitely look like I fit in – pasty white skin, light-coloured eyes, what my mother would (somewhat less than kindly) refer to as a righ’ baw face.) I’ve also taken to carrying a Tesco’s bag with me everywhere and flashing my Orkney Library card at anyone who will stop to look. Presumably this is our new norm, at least until September.

People kept asking me before I left, if I would develop a Scottish or Orcadian accent whilst here. I cited my sister’s experience – she lived several years in England in her teens and while she didn’t take on an English accent per se, there was a slight but noticeable difference to the rhythm of her speech. She has since returned, and now speaks perfect Canadian.

There are certain words that I have had to start using differently – here ‘pants’ means undies so I am quite careful there (don’t want to be asking someone to admire my news pants when I meant to say trousers – things could get frisky fast). I now stop for ‘petrol’ at a ‘service station’ on the ‘motorway’. I try to remember to say ‘pavement’ for sidewalk and at my cookery club I do reference ‘aubergines’ and ‘courgettes’. As an aside – I think a lot more North Americans would eat eggplants if we called them aubergines. Who wants to eat something called an ‘egg-plant’? But I digress.

And I do hear myself using certain words a lot more often – these are mainly words or phrases I heard around the house growing up. ‘I dinna ken’ means I don’t know; I say ‘wee’ a lot for small; and we’ve always referred to ground beef as ‘mince’, so I fit right in here. Oh yes, and ‘tatties’ and ‘neeps’ are also a normal part of my vocabulary.

There are words I likely won’t change: although ‘kirk’ is used frequently here, most people say church, so I still do too. I talk about going to the grocery store instead of the ‘supermarket’ and my friends know perfectly well what I mean.

But I have no intention of changing my pronunciation of words we have in common. I still say lab’rah-tory or cel-ah-brah-tory, instead of ‘lab-OR-atory’, or ‘cel-a-BRAY-tory’. My parents had moved permanently to Canada, so over time gave up ‘privv-acy’ for the North American privacy and ‘vitt-ah-min’ for our vitamin. But I am not staying forever, and fully intend to continue with my Canadian-speak. And I would point out, I occasionally hear Brits from different regions asking each other to repeat or clarify something, and yet, no one has ever once struggled to understand my nice, clean, clear Canadian accent. Just sayin’.

And then I said it. I heard myself, yesterday in Wm Shearer’s, asking one of the staff where the ‘tinned to-mah-toes’ were. Oh dear. Resistance is futile.

There’s not a lot of outdoor art here on Orkney – I don’t know why I had expected it, maybe because another island community, Iceland, had loads of it (it’s one of the first things I fell in love with in Iceland). But maybe the Orcadians (quite rightly) think their Neolithic standing stones, cairns, and broches are artistry enough?

Last week my walking group headed out towards the edge of town, towards a mound of what I thought was waste land. But we circled around some paths, and came into a clearing with a huge dragon’s head mounted on some rocks in the middle. It seems it’s the work of the local car dealership owner/artisan – I believe it’s going to be part of a bigger installation in the future. On the picture on the right, you can see a metal spider climbing up the back of the skull; on top those are mice or more likely, Orkney voles – we have our own, you know; and in the eye holes are little nests, all made of beaten metal. It is very impressive – I think COVID pushed the work back – I hope whatever it is will be finished before I leave.

Speaking of monsters: there are dozens of doggy-waste bins all over Kirkwall and many have been renamed. Orkney has definitely rallied behind Ukraine – there are blue & yellow flags & posters all over town; local school kids have been painting flags on stones and leaving about; the islands have volunteered to house a number of displaced families; and most importantly, thousands of pounds of money & goods are being donated every week.

I have a cold. A chest-wracking, stuffy-head cold. (I have had two COVID tests – trust me, it’s a cold). It started ten days ago. I know exactly when it started, because, much like my luggage, I was tracking it on a daily basis on my trip.

Years ago, Mary Tyler Moore stated that colds are always nine days long: “three days coming, three days with you, three days going”. It was the episode where Ted is her surprise date to an awards ceremony. Now everyone knows that 1970’s sit-coms were the best place to get scientific facts and medical advice (remember Carol Brady’s advice to put an aspirin in the water in a flower vase? Jan does.), so I have hung onto that piece of information for almost 50 years.

I’m beginning to think Ms Richards was wrong – my cold is ten days into its run, with no signs of abating. I am meeting a friend in Edinburgh next week and cannot share my room with someone with this cackling cough hanging over me. It’s so bad that last night Scout slept in the living room.

I hate it when our heroes let us down.

I came back to a very happy, very shaggy, and slightly squiffy dog. I initiated Plan Canine Clean-Up, which as we all know, involves at least three steps: brushing, shampooing, and shaving. It was going reasonably well – I plied her with treats and took my time, but the Sarah Bernhardt of Doodles let me know of her suffering. Oh, God, how she suffered. Seriously, Streep could take lessons from her.

Time to clean up. Ah, here’s where things start to go pear-shaped. Did I mention I had had trouble with my vacuum? But that I thought I had fixed it? Well, the smart thing would have been to check the vacuum before starting the shaving portion of the plan, wouldn’t it? So that was thirty minutes of fluff-plucking (you heard me) that I’ll never get back.

That was yesterday. *An aside: Hoover is arranging for a new vacuum to be delivered – I’m just hoping it makes it before my first houseguest of the season arrives.* When we finished the grooming yesterday evening, and I had gathered up the clumps and clumps of dog hair, there were still a few patches of fur left on the blanket, so I took it out back and shook it out (after checking carefully for neighbours).

This morning I looked out the window – there was a sparrow with something bright white in its beak – didn’t give it much thought. Then, every time I looked outside, there would be another sparrow carrying a tuft of white fluff. (or maybe the same sparrow, or its spouse). Somewhere along the hedges behind our houses, in the shrubbery (“bring me a shrubbery” – oops, sorry, never mind) there is at least one posh, bright, well-decorated and well appointed nest, with eggs nestled in the softest doodle-down bed imaginable.

Scout, you suffered not in vain, you have contributed to the wellbeing of Orkney avians.

A number of people on the boat said the same thing: “So I guess the lesson here is that we don’t really need all those things we pack, do we?”  And at first blush, I was thinking the same thing.

My years of business travel taught me to pack well, and I’m willing to rinse things out in the bathroom sink mid-week.  And I’ve never been one of those people who needs a different outfit for each day or who thinks about the number of nights we’ll be dining onboard and packs accordingly.  I’m a big believer in repeating outfits – in fact, our mother always said you should wear the same outfit for the first two days of a cruise so that people would remember you (she probably read that in some 1950’s How The Rich Travel article in Redbook).

When we used to work a 5-day-in-the-office work week, I remember colleagues who would never show up in the same clothes twice in the same week.  On the other hand, the well-dressed European business woman (in a pre-COVID world) owns one or maybe two suits, three or four blouses, and a couple of good scarves and that’s her entire, lovely work wardrobe.  But I digress.

As I said, I was thinking along those same lines about fewer outfits, but after a few days I thought, no, I like having a range of clothes to wear.  Maybe not something new each day, but at least the choice of 3 or 4 daytime outfits and 2 different things for evening (for a week-long trip).

But what would I do differently after this past week?  I think I would pack fewer ‘insurance’ items; you know, things you pack just in case, but hope you don’t need.  When my little carry-on did arrive, I realised, yes, it was indeed very heavy.  Things I didn’t need and won’t pack again: cozy pjs when a t-shirt will do, flip-flops when cruise ships already offer slippers, & long underwear.  Okay, that last one sounds nuts; I can explain.  Nine years ago I was on an April cruise that turned out to be the coldest spring on record in eastern Europe.  God, we froze!  Our Aussie friend took to wearing some of his wife’s panti-hose under his jeans when we left the boat, as insulation.  This time we were going to be near the sea, and I had only packed a light trench coat, so I came prepared.  But I now realise that if it were colder than anticipated, I could always buy a long-sleeved Tee and tights in any town.  Ditto the hat and gloves I packed.  Those are all the items I call ‘insurance’ and from now on I will buy them only if needed. 

I have streamlined my technology down too – I’ve figured out how to manage with one less charger and two fewer cables.

I will bring fewer toiletries, but not a huge difference; as I said earlier, I’ve never been a big packer to begin with.

On the plus side: thank heavens I wore my comfy walking boots, and had my fleece over my arm on the plane.  I had two scarves with me and I used them to change my look each day – one woman commented that she hadn’t even noticed I was in the same black Tee and black jeans each day; she just noticed my ‘look’ changed thanks to the scarves.

Oh, and to every smug little madam on board who, when I had to ‘borrow’ an aspirin, or socks, or buy undies, said, “I always pack one or two in my carry on for just such an eventuality” – I DID pack all of that in carry-on, you mouth-breathing, middle-aged, middle-class moron, they MADE me check the little wheelie bag because the airplane was so small!  Sorry, but there was one wench who just kept . . . well, let it go, Elaine, let it go . . .

But that leads to one last lesson – re-distribution of goods.  I can’t help but wonder, on that first little plane out of Kirkwall, if I had put on my sweater and coat, if I had moved a couple of things to my big shoulder bag, if I had gone out to my car and jettisoned a couple of smaller items, would all of this turned out differently? 

That will certainly be part of my thinking on my next trip, that’s for sure.