Beginnings on the Island

Good things come to those that wait. I have waited and waited, sometimes patiently sometimes not.

For over 40 years the hope always flickered within me that I would make a home one day in a house with a view of the sea.

These hopes and dreams are the things that became a light when I wandered to the dark places. The places that are frustrating and paralysing and I now know are the intricate workings of a neurodiverse mind.

The beach, the sea, was a place of solace in a turbulent childhood. Both summer and winter were equally alluring to both my sister and I. We spent summer days on the beach dipping string contraptions in rock pools to catch crabs, diving into murky seaweed, swallowing gallons of seawater to practice our swimming skills whilst our mother snored under some new Catherine Cookson book sleeping off a night shift or whatever was her crutch of choice at that moment.

The winter shorelines were wild and scary. Usually a Sunday afternoon after a boozy few hours of sitting patiently in the children’s room of some grimey pub playing endless games of eye-spy. Maybe if we were lucky we wasted an hour of two with a lemonade and a packet of crisps.

Those trips were the best. We hunted out delicate pink shells on the strand line, got our shoes, socks and toes wet in the cold crashing waves and felt the wind wrap round us and hold us tight whilst blowing all that was dark away. The drunken man that took us to that special place was mostly cheerful but he could turn on a knife edge and cut you to pieces.But it didn’t matter I wanted to be here everyday.I couldn’t hear the spiteful words when the wind was blowing in my ears. I wanted to wake up look out the window and see the ebb and flow of constant change.

It was that childhood notion that never left, I just had to believe I could make it happen.

That day arrived, seemingly quickly despite the 40+ years of waiting and now here I sit staring at the Atlantic Ocean and a sky that is in constant flux.

I can hear the waves, the seals singing, the wind calling and I know we are finally home.

We arrived on Westray tired to the bone after 3 horrible years in the city, inhaled the clean air and exhaled the detrius of all that had gone before. It was quiet of all the jarring background noise but loud in the nourishing sound of nature. I could smell the sea… all the time.

We set to work freshening up the house. It’s a mish mash of years of tinkering and island fixes. Nothing matches and there were too many colours so out came the white paint and things started to find there place. Next a place to work. The reason this house called to us were the interesting assortment of outbuildings and in particular the one with the view. The best view of all. The shoreline. That was destined to become my place of work.

My new studio is complete, the new kiln arrived which will now need to earn its keep, I’ve still to work out the finer details of clay deliveries here without having to donate a major organ for the delivery costs and I’m easing myself back into daily practice.

Finding my new routines and rituals has become a daily mission. How many cups of tea I can drink before actually getting on with work for the day. Did I keep my promise to myself to clean up at the end of the previous day or does this day begin with that task.

I’ve settled in with stitch, making myself warm overalls and bits for the house. My comfort zone, the place that I can control, the one thing I could do with closed eyes and know that it will be fine. Although I have the knowledge now that my neurodiverse brain can be a tricky sucker I still have to navigate the massive crashes in confidence that the learning curve takes you on and still with clay even though I've a few years under my belt, an MA in the bag, I’m a newbie, start up, fresh faced novice but with cloth, with thread I am a seasoned old hand, I am safe.

Island life is interesting. Working out how things tick here takes time, getting supplies to the island hasn’t been as difficult as imagined although it does take some extra work to find those suppliers that will bend over backwards to accommodate and those that just quote ridiculously stupid carriage costs because they just can’t be bothered with the effort. Everything is slow nothing is rushed. That suits. People wave when you pass in cars, bikes or on foot.

One of the major factors that brought us here to Westray other than the ebb and flow of the tides is the light. The light on Orkney is captivating, ever changing, moody, grim, gentle but dramatic. This time of year there is an abundance. Being so far north midsummer it barely breaks into twilight before the sun rises again. I am drinking it in, cherishing it all as we move towards the winter months of opposite darkness.

I think to myself if it were possible just to sit and watch the sky and do nothing else there would never be a dull moment.

Of course we are yet to survive our first winter, there have been many dire warnings about how tough it gets, how the days are short and the winds are strong. Living in the shadow of a mountain with very cold, very blustery, very damp winters for 20 years has given me a resilience that I hope will serve us well here and I didn’t have the sea to keep my spirits up.

The pantry is filling up nicely, I'm getting grips with freezer management again and I even managed to plant a few late vegetables but they won’t really add much to our stores.

One of the most important preparations for the colder months is my studio and its ancient pot belly stove. I am not sure if it will suffice for the long cold days but it’s got a chance to prove itself before being retired. Unless it rusts to pieces first.

So there it is...there is much to do, new work needs making. More to come about how and when I am going to sell my beautiful bowls and not hoard them all. There are many of you that have been waiting patiently, very patiently for quite some time and if you haven’t given up faith completely and by chance are reading this I haven't forgotten who you are.

As for my plans for this publication I will be offering some free and subscribed content. I haven’t quite decided how that will look at present I really just want to get back into the swing of writing and rambling. On that note I will round up this post and thank you kindly for making it this far.