Just a collection of odd recollections and musings from the last week or so…
I was working at the gallery today and an older man came up to the desk. He muttered something that I didn’t quite catch. He repeated it, “[mumble mumble] …trousers.”
I look down at my trousers, black disco pants, confused. I’d tried to tone down my clothes a bit since arriving on Skye and had thought this outfit of boots, a jumper and (admittedly slightly-shiny) trousers was quite ordinary.
“Well I never!” He says, turning to his wife, “I’ve never seen anything like it! What on earth is the world coming to?”
Probably best to leave my sparkly catsuits in the closet for a little while yet…
I drove through Portree last night on my way home from a meal at the Edinbane Inn.
As I made my way out of town I thought to myself, ‘Wow, it’s busy in town tonight! I hope I’m not missing out too much on the party…’
I thought about it for a few minutes then realised I’d passed three cars and a group of four people walking together through the square.
I think the London-Skye acclimatisation is well under way.
Skye lesson #1:
Always hold onto your car door when opening it; never underestimate the strength of the wind.
I almost learnt the hard way when I pulled over to take a photo on a clifftop near Uig. The door snapped back with such force that I actually heard a ‘whoosh!’ sound. The fact that I’m not driving a doorless car like the yellow one in the Inbetweeners is testament to Toyota’s impressive engineering skills. Or luck. Well, I don’t know which but I wont be risking it again.
One of the first things I did when moving here was to register with a doctor (very sensible, well done, Katie). After completing the impossibly complicated forms they handed me a 29-page printed information document.
When I got home I sat down with a cup of tea and started flicking through it.
I smiled at the little advice sections advising the preparation of a thermos flask for evening coughs or administering Rich Tea biscuits after a case of D&V. How cute, I thought, sweet but somewhat twee, a little bit like the famous colourful harbour cottages that sit below the surgery itself.
Then I turn the paper over to find a page titled: TICKS.
An A4 side of paper all about ticks and containing phrases such as, ‘They are not insects… They are blood-suckers’ and ‘The tick’s mouthparts will remain in the skin’. Not to mention a paragraph on contracting Lyme disease because nymph-stage ones are so small that you might not notice if you’ve got one feeding off you.
Aargh! I’m not sure I’ll ever walk through long grass again.
Loving the blog KJ keep it coming xx
Thank you 🙂 xxx
We are so enjoying your blog.. You are bringing the Isle of Skye to us so vividly, loving your stories
Thanks Donna, I’m always just pleased that anyone reads it at all!
Hope you and the family are well, let me know if you’re in need of shortbread or whisky!