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.
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