12 July 2024

A catching-up-with-myself day.

In the morning I crack on with the short job list in Vicky’s veggie patch. And it is short – apart from watering in the coming days there will be little claim on my time.

And yet I find it difficult to relax when the cold, windy weather doesn’t allow a slow pace. The notion of settling into a sheltered nook on the beach and doing a bit of drawing or reading is far-fetched. I wonder how the next few days will evolve. One thing is clear: I am ridiculously privileged to be here. Just walking along the road and feasting my eyes on the verges is enough. 

Egilsay has few visitors because there is “nothing” here to attract them – no shelter beyond the tiny information point by the jetty, no café or shop, no accommodation. However, there is a tourist attraction. The most famous story in the Orkneyinga Saga is the martyrdom of St Magnus, the patron saint of Orkney, on Egilsay in the 12th century. Soon after his death miracles began to be reported. The rough field where he was slain transformed to a green and fertile sward, while after his body was moved to the parish of Birsay (on the Mainland) a heavenly light is said to have been seen above his grave.

The church, 200m from where I am staying, was built around 20 years after Magnus’ death, following his recognition as a saint. The round bell-tower originally stood a full 20m high and acted as a beacon for pilgrims. Nowadays, the church is on St Magnus Way, a 58-mile route through Mainland Orkney. It’s a beautiful spot, with extensive views to the outer north isles, and west across the narrow sound to the hills of Rousay. 

In the neatly mowed churchyard I play with my camera, curious to see whether there is any definitive superiority vis à vis my iPhone. (no photos today because I haven’t worked out how to transfer off my camera 😬.) But I end up curling up on the conveniently placed bench and dozing in short-lived sun.

Vicky has been very welcoming so why wouldn’t I want to fit in with her ways. But, now on my own, I can’t resist making myself a bit more comfortable: washing the floors; removing and cleaning a dozen earth-encrusted plates – no longer needed as plant saucers – from windowsills; clearing away the broken glass on the patio; collecting various utensils and plates hiding around the garden… Well aware that this neat-freak behaviour is doing no one any favours. But I feel more at home. 

And what about my cat-feeding responsibilities? Well, Vicky has been here until 5 pm today. I can’t say I am born to the role of the feeding, and dental/gum medication regime. But as long as Stanley eats something before Vicky gets back, and is in reasonable health, I think we will all be happy. “You may find her coming up to your room for a cuddle”, says Vicky as she leaves the house. “And sorry if she brings in any wrens or swallows – it’s heartbreaking when that happens.” 😳