Ch8: May 16th part 2

I spend the rest of the afternoon walking the island, exploring from the cliffs to the interior of the island. Rabbits riddle the ground to the centre of the island, puffins the north end. Sea lions are scattered about on the beaches in close knit communities. I think I saw signs of otters near the loch. All the wildlife I came across had no fear of humans. I could have scooped up a rabbit and taken it to the pot – should I have the knowledge of how to kill and butcher and the inclination or need. I have a quick stop to the south to see the wind turbine. It whirls about, happy in the constant wind of Shetland. My stomach is complaining by now. I saw Ian using the aga to cook on, and I hope I paid enough attention to manage a meal of my own.

As I trudge along the edge of the beach I realise I didn’t even look to see what foods he left me with. I have a timetable written out somewhere, with instructions on filling the aga with fuel, switching between the electric from the turbine to the aga’s ability to heat water. I know the turbine is going, and I’m looking forward to a hot shower after I’ve filled my belly.

By the time I’m done, it’s late evening. I remember to give the mantel clock a wind. I’ve got no other way to tell the time, other than my iPod. Remembering about it, I put it on charge and turn the radio on. It’s tuned to Radio 2 and I leave it, listening to the familiarity of Simon Mayo doing the Drive Time Show. I feel sorry for all those people caught up in complicated lives while I am here with this beautiful island all to myself.

I find the larder stocked with blocks of cheese and butter, more bacon with a note to eat it by tomorrow. There’s long life milk and tins of all kinds of foods. There’s a couple of loafs of bread, and lots of pasta and rice. It’s all pretty basic, but I won’t starve, that’s for sure.

The bookshelves call to me, and I find most of the books are on the Shetland Islands. There are some thrillers, not the type I’d usually choose, but perfectly readable. The music from the radio suddenly fades and the dies completely. I remember about winding it up and give it a few cranks. The music comes back on, and I settle on the sofa with a book on the animals of Shetland. I want to
learn about them, find out who my island mates are.

Well before I’d normally go to bed, I find myself nodding off. I don’t like the idea of not being able to lock the door. What if someone crept onto the island during the night? I have no protection. I go to the back of the cottage and select a cricket bat sized length of wood. I test it, wrapping my fingers around the thinner end and swinging it through the air. It would do in a pinch. Back in the cottage I opt for shoving the sofa against the door. Someone would be able to force their way in, but I’d hear them and be ready to slam them with my weapon.

By nine, I have the curtains pulled against the bright sky and am wrapped up in my duvet. The sea air seems to have cleansed me, pulled out the toxins of modern living. Perfectly relaxed, I fall into a deep sleep.