Wolf’s Hebridean adventure

So, as many of you know ( as I have been banging on about it for ages) I am on a three week residency ( writing, poetry, collage, all things sea weed) in the outer Hebrides ,on the isle of Lewis.

I am staying in the Otter Bunkhouse, which is perched right on a sea loch in Uig which is about forty minutes drive from Stornaway, the one and only big town, and where I got off the ferry from the mainland. I imagine Stornaway is a bustling hive of activity in the summer, but at this time of year any sign of activity is a little thin on the ground. This was apparent when I went into Argos to collect a new blender and the three shop assistants almost passed out with excitement that somebody had actually come in to buy something. Even the ‘Fancy Fun Party Tweedy’ shop on the sea front was closed, as was the shop that had knitted highland cow tea cosies.in the window. It goes without saying that the Arts centre and museum were also closed. When I was in Ullapool waiting for the ferry I went into the book / gift / tackle/ hardware /tea shop and asked when the museum might be open. ” Sometime in the summer” said the owner ( who looked exactly like the flute playing hotelier in ‘Little Britain’, the one who spoke in riddles.

The bunkhouse is five minutes drive from the Uig Community shop , the sort of shop you simply never get in a city. This shop is fabulous (eclipsed only by the community shop in Barra)and sells pretty much anything you could want, with a post office, laundry, tea shop and garage thrown into the mix. I even found a tin of L’Escargot on one of the shelves, perhaps a hasty order from a hungry French tourist. I didn’t check the sell by date or make a purchase. It is run by volunteers who were all friendly and smiley and already knew who I was and where I was staying. When I went to collect my washing, the woman said “You’re the one with the red van staying at the bunkhouse”. And the man at the petrol pump said ” You’ve got the wrong hair for this weather”. Someone else asked why I had chosen to come somewhere so remote at this time of year, when it is so windy and stormy. I was reminded of the George Mallory quote when asked why he wanted to climb Everest . “Because it’s there”. This makes me sound more intrepid than I am. I am not in a tweed jacket trying to climb a mountain, I have a house with heating and Radio 4. And it is a very good lesson on how to be alone with the howling wind for company, looking out at the seabirds bobbing up and down in the choppy water.

The other excitement is the little boxes that people have at the end of their driveways where they put freshly baked bread, cakes etc.You put money in an honesty box. Though I have no need for more bread and am still wading through a large delicious ginger cake that a friend in Manchester gave me for the journey, I cannot resist.

And now I am heading out to collect some moss to add to my pulped grass which was intended to be a lovely pale green, like the demonstration on You Tube. Instead it looks like mushroom soup but may look less unappealing when it has dried.

And you never know, it may stop raining.