19 July 2024

An insomniac night, followed by the observation that I am being too “busy” (I haven’t fully explored Egilsay, still less Wyre and Rousay) – leads to a U-turn: I postpone my excursion to the mainland, and hope I can cope with running out of chocolate!?

Promising myself, this is the last of it, I do a domestic couple of hours: two trips to the jetty recycling point with the remaining glass bottles, and some gardening. For good measure I throw on a washing-machine load. At this point things go a bit awry. Walking into the kitchen I see that the oil I have been heating in a saucepan to make soup has burst into flames. Quick assessment: put lid on saucepan. This successfully stifles the flames. But then the lid slips and a tongue of flame leaps out. For some reason I decide to take  the saucepan outside. I run through the house with my ball of flame, somehow avoiding setting anything else alight, and get it outdoors safely. Phew. This is a first for me. But I clearly share a pyromaniac tendency with Vicky, who managed to scorch the wall and adjacent dresser in her history here.

I have a notion to reach the cairn on Kili Holm, off the northern tip of the island. Because it is the limit of things. Just before I arrive at the coast, I pass by a farm. In  hindsight, I should have knocked on the door and asked for clarification. Instead, just as I thought I have found a way through I am called back by the owner, a woman, very irritated by my behaviour. And I don’t blame her. Dropping into the conversation that I am staying at Vicky’s spreads oil on troubled waters. I then explain that I am hoping to reach the cairn on the tidal island. No eyebrows are raised, but she must have thought I was barking. The map clearly shows a “sound” – a clue that there is a permanent stretch of water separating the two landmasses. There is no way I can get there unless I swim. 

 

It’s the first time it has been warm enough to loaf around on the rocks and read, so that’s what I do. To return to the house I walk back along the coast. Suddenly I hear the eerily beautiful singing of seals basking on the rocks. There must be two dozen of them. With my binoculars I can see the ethnic diversity In detail – plain black, mottled and all sorts. Wonderful.   

I turn the “corner” from an easterly to southerly direction I hit a wall of wind. And at my swimming spot the waves are very choppy. I go in but the current and rocks make me feel unsafe. So it’s a brief one today.

In the kitchen, the Radio 4 programme I’m listening to attracts Stanley – because Vicky has the radio on all the time. She comes trotting in. And then exits in disgust when she sees it’s case of mistaken identity. Ah well.

And a message arrives from Vicky telling me that the woman at the farm is sorry for being angry with 

me and I shouldn’t worry about her (I’m not). Small island!