Friday 15 July 2011

Careers and vocations

I am in one of those places in your life that you might call a "transition period" if you were looking to use unnecessarily long words. Just finished university, not sure what comes next. Three months of eccentricity to bridge the gap, but I'm probably transitioning in to a time of jobs searches and money woes.

I pray God has more of a clue than I do right now. Speaking to good friends I felt really comforted by the reassurance the the big guy knows best. I was advised to be calm and keep praying and the thing to do will smack me in the face. A lovely thought, but I know I still need to do the thinking and put the effort in. And that practically, unless it smacks me in the face pretty soon, I'll have to find myself something, be it the right thing or not, to bring in enough money to pay the rent and be able to eat until it does.

One of the things that I had been thinking about was working in the Fire and Rescue Service. I checked it out locally, and there are no full-time vacancies in my area, but there were vacancies for part-time, on-call firefighters. You needed to (1) pass the physical requirements and (2) to be able to get to your station in 5-7 minutes from having been paged. (1) would probably rule me out right now - I'm probably not fit enough - but that's something that can be worked on and changed. (2) would be a bigger problem right now. When I was seriously thinking about this a while back I didn't have a driving license and lived a good ten minute cycle from one station and fifteen from another, with a somewhat unreliable bicycle. I have since passed my driving test, so I'm ever so slightly less incompatible, but I'm a long way from being able to afford a car. I'd love one, but right now I have no need or means to gain or run one, and it would make me very lazy and unfit. Probably. It would also make me much less stressed and much more useful. Today I checked out car insurance quotes by way of procrastination. The simple story is that I would pay the same in insurance as I would for a second hand car, and another whollop in road tax, etc. Not happening then. In a year's time I'm likely to be moving house again. Without tying myself, I'd like to see myself staying in the same city, and who knows, I might find myself close enough to a fire station.

Back to the burning buildings. So yeah firefighting then. Last night I was sitting talking to a bloke who's staying here and (you guessed it) happens to be a fireman. We got deep. The wine probably helped. It's about being tough and sensitive and clever, and I aspire to be those things. I got to thinking about how I would deal with the tough stuff; people die in fires. That would test a faith for sure. Each time I come back to the same thing. I'm young and I have energy - with training I could probably manage the fitness and the strength needed. I think I'd enjoy the schools work, and I think it would be incredibly satisfying when it goes right. I've learned I like to feel useful. When it goes wrong, it would be terrible. I'm scared of the dark as it is, and probably rather naive about the big things in life. It was really good to talk to someone who does all that though. He talked about all the training they get and such like, seems to really enjoy his job.

Then there's the danger to me. Right now I'm comfy and safe and being theoretical, so I can brush it off - I'm ok with danger - like I'm trying to be cool and fearless. I suppose it becomes a more practical case of balanced risks. Pretty sure my Mum and Dad would worry though, others too. Is that fair? My Dad worries enough when I do volunteer work on the streets at night and I'm safer there than I am in my own flat.

Well that's this afternoon's thinking. That and planning fictional murders. Time to get back to the real world and wander off for some free food. Barbecue time out here! I think tonight I shall think slightly differently when being my usual barbecue pyromaniac self.

Wednesday 13 July 2011

Letters

Today I have been writing letters so I find myself a bit written-out, if such a state of being exists. I do have some things to report. Small achievements but noteworthy in their own small way.

#1 "Backwards Duckling" has learned to go forwards, but is still much better at backwards. Most of the ducklings have learned to stop without falling over. The ducks who are sitting on eggs are getting very grumpy, and I'm told this a sign of happenings inside the eggs. The other ducks have been shut out of their space. Ducklings will no doubt arrive this weekend while I'm not here.

#2 Today I left the site, and even left the village. I cycled as far as the next town, bought yellow-stickered goodies, ate fish and chips and ice cream and came home again. Tomorrow I may even go for a walk. I'm slowly building up. By the end of my time here I may even do interesting things.

#3 I was big and brave and talked to the scary campers who look like they might be cool. They're quite nice really and we had a little chat about how likely you are to be mugged or raped in different parts of Aberdeen.

Duds

The moral of this story. Don't give up on the duds. 16 duck eggs in an incubator. Over the course of a night (no idea which night it was now. Time doesn't really work round here the same as it does elsewhere) seven hatched. That morning we set up a nursery and moved all seven out of the incubator, leaving the incubator switched on to give the "duds" a bit more time. The next day, one more hatched! So now we have eight. They're our best visitor attraction, especially when there are kids around. One young girl who was here when the first seven were hatching was comparing egg hatching to human childbirth, and commented that there is less screaming with ducklings.

My job yesterday was to take the youngest out of the incubator and put him/her/it in the nursery with the others. So I introduced it to water and food and waited to watch a while. Brand new ducklings are hilarious. Everything is new and interesting and needs to be pecked at. They spend a while going for each others' eyes before they learn that other ducklings aren't edible. I watched one of them spend a good minute or two looking and pecking at his own disproportionally huge feet, trying to work out what they were. Even I find them rather cute. I have now experienced the look on a duckling's face when it does its first ever poo. It's a very entertaining look - shocked and surprised.

You meet some lovely people here. Two girls left this morning after three nights here, and we've spent some time with them and generally got to know them a bit. This morning they came to find me to say goodbye before they left. Somewhere inside of me said "eek" in a very small voice. They left their box of incense for the other helper here, who had admired the smell. Slowly this place might just be restoring my faith in people.

This post has now contained enough of what I would call "pinkandfluffy" to last for quite some time. I now have to promise that my next will be more serious and sensible, with much less aww-isn't-that-lovely rubbish.

I'm off to Grantown this afternoon. Not really sure what for, but I really ought to leave the site every few days. Maybe I'll buy some biscuits. That would make me happy.

Sunday 10 July 2011

Village Church

I went down to the service at the local church this morning. They have a "trendy" 9:30 service and a "traditional" 12:00 service. Normally the cleaning here takes all morning so last Sunday the other helper and and I, both in our 20s, went to the 12:00, and dramatically changed both the size and average age of the congregation. I didn't mind the service - yes it was traditional, but sometimes that offers a certain familiarity and with that comes a degree of comfort. A good, thinky, sermon and some hymns I recognised sung in the same slightly-too-slow whisper that you could easily find in many a church. What took me was that we were told with great vigour that there is a 9:30 service which is much more modern and that's the one all the young people go to. I'm still not entirely sure what to make of that. I'm still a major cynic, you see.

So today I (alone) made it to the earlier service (tired, soggy and hungry having really slept in, thrown on my cleanest clothes and jumped on a bicycle in the rain) mostly to see what all the fuss is about. I also feel like I ought to find myself a church if I'm going to be here for any length of time, which I am.

Whenever I find myself at a church which isn't (yet!) my own, I find myself thinking as if I was a "mystery worshipper"*. I've never been one, but I spend too much time lurking around this particular corner of the internet. But I got over that feeling quite quickly. *http://www.shipoffools.com/mystery/index.html

A few people gave me that sideways glance that means you've been spotted and you look new and strange, but I introduced myself to the poor couple that happened to be nearest. The service itself was lovely, songs I know and love and a good little preach, even if the poor guy looked petrified. Today we were comparing God's gifts to different types of cake. These people know how to relate to me. There was a sense of that awkwardness that sometimes comes with the CofS trying to be cool to attract precious young people, but I think it was coming from a genuine Godly place, so I'll try and get past it.

What I find harder, even at my own church where I know people, is the hanging around, drinking tea, talking to strangers part. Always makes me feel slightly socially inept, but I stayed afterwards and tried anyway. I got the impression this is somewhere that sees a lot of summer visitors, welcomes them gladly, but doesn't get too attached. I think part of this comes from being somehow associated with an outdoor activity centre nearby. One which may be a Christian thing, or just seems to attract a lot of Christians. I really ought to google it and know these things before the next time I rock up there. I just feel like it might take a while for the local established regulars to accept someone new.

The verdict - no-one's perfect and neither is this place, but it comes pretty close so I'll give it my best shot. This means I will have to shout down my cynical, unforgiving, what-do-they-want-from-me? inner voice and make a concerted effort, week in and week out to get to know these guys and become part of the community for the time I'm here.

Ducklings

Today's big news. The clutch of duck eggs in the incubator are finally hatching. We have our first egg escapee and more on the way. It's all very exciting for city kids like me. The more seasoned country folks are licking their lips and trying to decide whether this little guy will go best with plum sauce or hoi sin. 


In three weeks' time they'll look a lot more like real ducks. 

Saturday 9 July 2011

Woods

Today's great drama; we have no water supply. The message came round:

"Water's off. Boil the rainwater. Pee in the woods". It's ok, we have plenty rainwater and plenty woods.

Friday 8 July 2011

People

This place attracts fun people and also some strange people. Or perhaps I should say potentially strange because we almost definitely never know their full story. Almost all absolutely lovely. Tonight's guests are the example of case in point that has made me think about posting this.

In the campsite we have a group of 6 adults who have just asked us to judge their gingerbread man icing competition. Last place decided who is to rise early tomorrow and cook breakfast. It's a good system, encourages creativity. In the hostel we have some gentlemen that I met almost exactly a year ago when I was a visitor to the hostel here. They remembered my name and what I had been doing and asked all about what I'd been up to. Made me happy to be remembered. Our third lot of campers who have arrived sans tent or campstove and are currently sleeping in their car. And then there's me. Sitting in a caravan with a cold nose, a highly sociable stuffed cat and wearing the hugest woolly Granddad jumper you can picture. Variety is spicy, they say. Or something like that.

Incommunicado

I find myself musing on the nature of communication. Not too many years ago mobile phones were unusual and the internet was unheard of, and people coped. Talked to each other, made plans, talked on the phone, wrote letters. Maybe I'll start writing letters, I've brought stamps and envelopes so that I can. Maybe I'll just post people drawings. I am someone who reluctantly keeps their phone on 24/7, have done for years, but if I'm out of town for a weekend or just a few days holiday I'll normally turn it off while I'm away. It's like I'm making a point of separating that trip from my day-to-day stresses. Out here with my normal mobile, I don't get mobile signal and I didn't expect to. Internet makes life a lot easier, slow as it is.

This past week my phone is living in “airplane* mode” and serving as no more than an alarm clock. A few nights ago before I went back to town and then returned here I switched it back on to the world and found a magical bubble of phone signal. In come two texts. Yes, I think, I can send an unexpected goodnight text, maybe make contact, and then it's gone. That tiny hint of connection and I find I don't know what to say to who. All at once I want to tell one person that I love them and miss them, another that I am here and safe and not to worry, I want to check others are ok, and I want to wish someone good luck. Then I think about it and I'm not sure any more. Will it break my little isolation bubble? Will telling someone I'm far from that I miss them just make it worse, and worse for both of us? Sucky suck. It may be time to plan phonecall times and cycle down to the village to use the phonebox. It may also just be time to actively remove myself from “the loop” and see how well I survive without it.

Then I go and change it all by getting hold of a mobile with the one network that covers this area. Magically I'm contactable again. It has its uses. The people who are looking after me can be in touch easier. People who need to can tell me things. However I still want to be somewhat coy about how many people have access to the number. Like a clean break. Does this make me a terrible person for almost wanting to exclude people I would happily count as friends? Is it for my own sanity or my own selfishness? Time to do some praying.

*That's American English for you. In this country we can deal with sensible words like aeroplane.  

Quietness

It's quiet here. So quiet that I have time to sit and think about how quiet it is. It's a strange thing to think about, one that takes me round in circles. I think I'll soon start to find the energy to find ways to fill these times. Going for walks, writing to people, sending potentially useful emails, and so on and so forth. In the meantime I'm trying to work out just what it is I'm thinking about and I can't. I may even have achieved that rare state of complete blank mindedness. Useless, but I might need some for a while.

Yesterday I graduated. A day of both ceremony and celebration. Was quite good fun in the end. I told myself I was allowed to be excited about it, so I was. I wore a shirt with shiny cuff links and the people I love turned out to be there. The right person* said "Ok, you as well" and bopped me on the noggin, and off I went with another important piece of paper, and a "Good luck, now get on with your life". Funny how no-one mentions the thousands of pounds of debt or the harsh disparity between the number of graduates and the number of graduate jobs. Maybe I could carve a career out of cynicism?

*The one in the biggest shiniest chair wearing the biggest shiniest robe. All so that we would know he was the right person.

Tuesday 5 July 2011

Back to the bright lights

Tomorrow also takes me back to the city for a short while. There'll be people, and lots of them. People I ought to spend time with, listen to, talk to and enjoy it. I will, and I will, but it'll provide a marked contrast from the way of life I've just entered. I wonder if I'll make anything particularly interesting of it or not. Who knows.

Planning for rain

Tomorrow it's going to rain. This here is exciting and worth planning for. This means today has been spend doing dry weather things at great speed and sorting out other things so we can have wet weather things to do tomorrow. This degree of planning ahead is somewhat alien to me.

One trailer load of logs came off a pile in a field, split, moved and stacked ready for the winter. Another load came off the pile and went off to elderly neighbour #2. The third lot are in a covered trailer, hitched to the smallest tractor I've ever seen and are waiting to be stacked under cover tomorrow. Stacking logs under cover is a wet weather job, I'm told, and we must therefore not waste good weather doing it. I now have log-throwing skills which I may even put on my c.v.

Our other wet-weather preparation involved barricading three adolescent duckings into their night-time shelter because they haven't yet mastered the art of waterproofing. Similar to being allowed to stay in bed all day with a supply of food and water, just because of the rain. I wish people were allowed to actually do that.

Monday 4 July 2011

I can do pictures too

Pictures as promised. One of these will be a map of decreasing internet signal strength with distance from the magic box. Right now I'm in the outdoor kitchen (there's an outdoor kitchen!) and down to the smallest increment of signal that openoffice is capable of demonstrating, with occasional wobbles of oh-no-where-has-the-internet-gone?. 
 

This is where I live. The left-hand side of the building is the camper's indoor area, the caravan on the right is the big caravan. That's me. Over the roof of the camper's bit a white thing is just about visible. That's the little caravan, where I'll live next month. One photo takes a good 20 minutes to upload so that's all for now, folks.

Kid, What are you on about?

Post #1. Here goes.

Everyone has reasons for starting a blog, and many of them like to think that they're writing about interesting enough things for other people to want to read them.  Some people just write because they'd like to, and then hope that the things they like writing about might just be of interest. That's me, and frankly, so what if I'm not particularly interesting.

This blog starts now simply because I can. Two days ago I arrived in what may well be the most idyllic place this side of heaven. I'm not going to tell you where exactly it is, or what it's called just right now. Mostly because I'm not sure if I want to or not, and this is the decision that can be reversed. I also figure I'd be happier rambling on about my adventures if the individuals mentioned, if indeed I do mention them, won't know it's them I'm on about. To set the scene this couple have a plot of land out in the sticks, in the Cairngorms of Scotland, and this is how they make a living. There's an 8 bed hostel, which only ever takes 6, and a small campsite for small numbers of small tents, and small people. Ok, big people are allowed too. There's also a self-catering cottage, the big house, 2 hammocks, 2 swings, various eclectically-named outbuildings and sheds and two Castleton touring caravans. It's all about hospitality, and I'm here for the best part of three months.

I'm one of two, soon to be three helpers who inhabit the caravans during the summer months and spend a few hours each day helping with the running of the place. Today I weeded sorrel out of a meadow, swept, mopped, cleaned, laundered, smartened up the hostel, lifted a log-splitter on to a trailer, rode in the trailer to stop it falling off, threw some logs around for a few hours, and personally welcomed 6 more people to my new home. I accidently let the Soay sheep in to the campers' field and the chickens in to the Soays' field, then inexpertly herded them back to their rightful places before anyone important noticed. The campers think I'm a right numpty, but it's okay, there'll be a whole new set of campers tomorrow. Yesterday there was more log-throwing, each day will bring challenges and adventures anew. Reluctantly I'll admit that I'm a city kid, and that these little things are quite exciting to me.

It's all a bit different from what I've become accustomed to, a strangely stressful mix of final year study, Scottish Country Dancing and evening work at a city theatre. Not overly busy in terms of hours of the day in which I was "working", but somehow over-full with commitments and expectations. Thinking time gets squeezed in to times and places which ought to be dedicated to more sensible things, like sleeping, or got forgotten about altogether. Quiet times were a rare species, time for prayer more so. Here however, I hope to catch up with these things. I may even plan to, or intend to, because these things are important but I get the feeling that it'll all just happen, there's space and time here for them. I just happen to be documenting my thoughts and adventures in a potentially public way.

The title, well my water butt does indeed seem to be trying to grow it's own pet rowan tree. I'll post pictures when I work out how. This is my first ever blog post after all.

Over and out, Callanish.