Dearest Jamie,

Life is such a zig zag, and I always assumed it was all pretty random, but I’m beginning to feel that it’s a zig zag with a homing instinct. As you know, I’ve lived on three islands – Mull and Islay in the Hebrides and Sanday in Orkney – and even though these moves were all for different reasons (respectively: a man, 40,000 geese and 50 sheep) I can see now that I was choosing island life itself as much as anything more tangible. 

Did my love of islands develop through living on them, or was it hatched way back in our childhood holidays to Tiree? Chicken or egg? Who knows – probably a bit of both. What I do know is that this time it’s sheer homing instinct: there is nowhere else in the world I would rather live.

Last week I found myself in Glasgow airport for the third time in quick succession (two house viewings and an interview). I scanned the departures board and there, in the geographical mix of Belfast and Warsaw, Alicante and Malaga, Amsterdam and Heathrow, lay Tiree. My heart sang. Five of us congregated at the gate, were ushered out to our Loganair Sea Otter and climbed aboard. With a passenger capacity of 16 this plane feels positively metropolitan after the 8 seater Islanders – the Landrovers with wings – we used in Orkney.

Forty-five minutes later our pilot executed a smooth descending arc and Tiree lay below us like a map. There on our right lay Milton Harbour and Caolas overlooking Gunna Sound, with Gunna and Coll to the east. Turning west we swept over the exquisite pale sands of Vaul and Balephetrish, the surfers’ paradise of Balevullin beach up ahead and the ‘golf ball’ (radar station) atop Ben Hynish to our left, before a final lick of the curl to land on The Reef – an expanse of ‘below the waves’ machair where the red roofed airport (and erstwhile WWII base) resides. Despite never having lived here before, I felt as if I’d come home.

What a week! Amongst all the usual domestic and world stuff – the Brexit and Trump shenanigans and a right royal wedding in the offing (Harry and Meghan, UK and USA, show-biz and royalty, oh cripes) –  Botswana is reeling with joy and nervous expectation as Mugabe finally resigns after 27 years, a submarine sank off the coast of Patagonia with 44 crew (the rescue mission now, tragically, abandoned), there’s a landslide in Riverdale, Utah and Mount Agung is erupting in Bali.

What a week for me too! My trip was for an interview – a real job! after so many years of ‘sole trading’. Yet, whereas I think most people probably move because of work, I can’t claim that. This move to Tiree is independent of any work or livelihood decisions. You could say it’s spontaneous, a whim, a mere notion. It’s not really – I’ve been contemplating it for several years and even looked at a plot of land five years ago – but now a variety of events have converged to push pipedream into possibility and prompt purposeful plan to produce……purchase! (alliterative apologies!)

Before I even reached interview day I heard that my offer on Red Roofs had been accepted – yippee!! And on organising a re-visit to ‘my’ wee hoose Flora, the current owner, not only welcomed me in but was in the kitchen stirring a pot of soup and distributing cheese on to crackers while her brother stoked the living room fire. We sat for two hours ‘ceilidhing’ (which traditionally just means a gathering or social visit and a good natter with a bit of storytelling and maybe a song or poem, rather than the current understanding of it as a dance). ‘Can you help with the lambing?’ asked Iain, who’s sheep graze the surrounding machair, and they both took a look at the size of my hands. I remember this from my Aussie sheep and cattle work days – the women were looked to for lambings and calvings as their hands and arms were slimmer and defter for slipping in and pulling out: I’ll leave the imagery to you. ‘Oh yes, I love lambing, and the poddies (orphans) can come into my kitchen for a warm up and a feed.’ I seem to have signed up for the full lifestyle.

As I left I said to Flora, ‘You know why I’m here visiting Tiree?’ and she replied, ‘oh aye you’ve got that job’ sharply followed by, ‘och but I know nothing! I know nothing!’ when she saw the surprise on my face. ‘Well I have an interview for the job’ said I, and we shared a grin. Island life: where things are known before they are known.

Shoving that pre-knowledge as far from my mind as possible, I began my interview with a suitable level of nerves – I can’t recall the last time I was interviewed for anything! However the Tiree Trust committee panel quickly put me at my ease by way of a surprising (given the job is admin) array of questions. The opener, ‘are you willing to get up on stage and sing unaccompanied’ was shortly followed by, ‘do you have a good oatcake recipe’ and a good few questions about my time as a volunteer lifeguard and swim teacher whilst on Sanday. With no swimming pool here, Tiree kids learn to swim in open water. Brrrr.

A phone call to our cousin Bill’s house ten minutes after I got back confirmed I’d got the job! Must have been the oatcake recipe :~)

Back in Edinburgh, I’m slightly ‘rabbit in the headlights’ with the heady realisation that I’m only here for another 6 weeks-ish, with a few jobs to finish and a turkey dinner for nine to cook. There must be myriad things to do, but all I can think of is colour: the wild flowers of the machair in Springtime, the white beaches, the blue-green ocean, the red of my roof and the richness of colour I’ll paint the rooms. After some monochrome times, my life is re-gaining its true colours.

I’m listening, right now, to Radio 4’s Question Time, from Northern Ireland, discussing their post-brexit Border – hard or soft. In my mind’s eye is a map of Ireland – how very sad that there has to be a border cutting off that north-east corner at all. Our world is becoming more segregated, more ‘us and them’, schengen is under threat and with it our sense of unity and shared human spirit. I’m choosing to join a small, close-knit community at a time when the world is spinning in ever crazier and scarier realms of ‘reality’, fake or true, who knows? And yet, there must be a majority, surely, of people who feel just like me? Who want to be connected and friendly, sharing and caring, human?

Earlier I listened to Alan Dein’s programme, Don’t Log Off, where he speaks with anyone in the world who fancies a chat. Today he tapped into the current worlds of people in Beirut, England’s New Forest, Nicaragua and Botswana with conversations ranging from the highly political to the deeply personal. How does he connect with these people? Facebook, with a simple plea, ‘talk with me’. This is a wonderful example of technology enabling direct and meaningful connection among individuals across the world, rather than the mass scaremongering, the fake news, the hype. 

Such technology is, of course, also why I can move to a tiny island in the ocean and still maintain my writing and other online work. Hurrah!

This evening I’m going to a dance – a ceilidh in the ‘reel’ sense of the term (we’ll be reeling and spinning and stomping and whooping the night away). My first since my accident. I’ve just tried on my outfit to see how it looks with my back brace – very fetching – I can now appreciate the allure of corsetry ;~)

That’s it for now my dear, off to beautify myself for the dance ;~) more soon xxxjulesxxx