Facebook Friends

This week's blog was meant to be about my trip up to Orkney, the interview, the lovely B and B I stayed in (the Hildeval by the way) and my feelings of being up there, looking at houses and planning our new life. However, today I actually want to talk about friendships.

Marcus Aurelis is quoted as saying

“accept the things to which fate binds you, and love the people with whom fate brings you together, but do so with all your heart”. 

I know I hark on a lot about fate, but it is something I am genuinely interested in. Why do we meet the people we do, when we do? Think about how you met your partner or your best mate? Think of the circumstances that led to that encounter. I had almost known my husband for about 15 years before we actually met. We had mutual friends, but neither of us was aware of the other, I even have a photo of a group of friends taken years before we met, and he is in it! We shouldn't have even met on the day we did, as neither of us were going to go to the event, but for some reason we both changed our minds and have now been married for almost 13 years!

It is the same with  friendships, some develop gradually over time, some are instant! That spark between two people who don't know each other, when you think "oh my goodness, we are going to have so much fun together". Some people walk into our lives just when we need them and we wonder how we ever managed without them - now that has to be fate. doesn't it? We make our minds up about liking or disliking someone instantly and unconsciously, whether face to face or on the phone. If asked we probably wouldn't actually be able to explain why we felt the way we did about the person.

And so, once random people are now our friends, people who we love and care for, and they us. Some friends we see every day, we see each other at our best and at our worst and yet somehow we manage not to kill each other. Then we have the friends who we don't see for months or years, yet when we do we pick things up immediately where we left off, as if no time had passed at all. If you think about it, friendships are really quite amazing. Friends: the family we choose for ourselves.

Like many people, I have different circles of friends, like Sarah, who has been my school friend since we were 11- partners in crime for the last 30 years. My university friends Chantelle and Graham, who I still see regularly, generally to retrieve my stolen laundry! My antenatal friends Pat, Becky, Andrea and Heather who I met at antenatal classes pregnant with our first babies, and now 11 years on we still meet every six weeks for a meal. "We are a bit like Sex and the City, but without the sex, and in the countryside" says Pat! Then there are my Frome friends, but I will talk about these guys in my next blog. I also have my SK friends.



I re enact English Civil War battles, a member of Sir George Lisle's regiment of Foote, in fact. Over the years I have meet some weird and wonderful people, in some cases, wonderfully weird people, in the Sealed Knot! We are all scattered across the UK and come from very different backgrounds, we may not see each other for months, years even, yet we are all friends. Friends who educate others about history, raise money for charity, wear odd clothes and have the occasional (!) drink. 

When the chips are down, however, it doesn't matter where in the world you are, or how long ago you saw them, your friends are all there to help. This was brought home to me recently when my friend Shelley's house was severely damaged by a fire. Thankfully neither she nor her son were injured, but her friends, her Lisle's family and complete strangers, who saw her plight on Facebook, sprung into action. All these people helped in some way by offering to clean up the fire damage, moving her to temporary accommodation, donating household items or donated money to replace Christmas presents lost in the fire.

Why though? Why should people give their time or money for someone else, if there is no personal gain to be had? This is the thing about friendship, it is not about "What do I get if I do this for you?" or "What's in it for me?" but "How can I help?" and " I am here for you!"

Like Shelley, I too, am very lucky to have some amazing friends, and as you will see, one of the difficulties I will face when we move to Orkney is leaving these wonderful, bonkers, generous, daft people, in geographic terms, behind. I feel really quite sad about this at times and wonder if we are doing the right thing.

But, back to fate... Or as I shall call it today... Facebook.

Facebook! It is as brilliant as it is terrifying. It puts you in touch with friends old and new, relationships destroyed and rekindle at the press of the "enter" key. It brings out the best and the worst of people, but truth be told, I am a bit of a Facebook fiend and on it most days.  So it seemed to me an obvious tool to use in gathering more information about Orkney and as a way of getting in touch with people, and this is what has made me change my theme for today...

People of Orkney... You Rock! My poor old phone has been red hot with messages coming in from Orcadians all over the island offering help and support. I have had messages from people offering to help us move or find us houses to rent. The headmaster of the school, it transpires, is from my home town and offered to loan me his house for heavens sake!! I also have a coffee date set up already for June with a lovely lady called Sara! None of these people know me, I am just another name on a Facebook feed, I could be anyone! Yet people have gone out of their way to offer a hand of friendship based on little more than the fact we might just live on the same island together at some point in the future.

Moving anywhere, whether it be to a new job, a new school or a new house, is stressful! One of the worries that leads to this stress is the fact we are starting from scratch all over again. We worry that we might not make friends, that we might be isolated - after all, you can live in the World's most populated city, and still be alone! Perhaps because it is so isolated, being 10 miles across the Pentland Firth  from the Scottish mainland, that Orkney islanders are so friendly, the community depends on everyone working together and helping each other.

Whatever the reason, I am very grateful, and excited about saying "hello" to these new friends. However, I won't be saying "goodbye" to my old friends any time soon, just "see you tomorrow in Facebook Land".

Eight Months of Tears

“Orkney! Isn’t that in Norway or somewhere?”! 

Words to this effect have been screeched at me by family and friends alike over the past few weeks! Yes, Orkney! 

Orkney is a long way away (694 miles from my house to be precise), an island in the North Atlantic, north of the Scottish mainland, south of Shetland, once owned and annexed by Norway before becoming part of Scotland in 1472. But why Orkney? We were talking of Scotland in the last blog: the Highlands, Haggis and tartan, now we are in Viking territory.

 

I first went to Orkney the day after I got engaged. We were staying on the north coast of Scotland near Durness, two days before we were meant to go home we decided  to jump on a ferry to Orkney and visit Skara Brae – the Scottish Pompeii (although no volcanoes were involved in its preservation just sand)! 

And so my love affair with these remote islands began. 

Orkney is made up of about 70 islands, 20 of which are inhabited. The north islands and north Mainland are wild and windy. Jagged cliffs plummet to the sea, home to sheltering puffins and gannets, whilst arctic terns nest on the grassy cliff tops. In the Scapa flow reside seals, whales and dolphins, even a pod of Orca. To the south of the Mainland; coves, harbours and sandy beaches. The people are friendly, their history is rich and diverse, their whisky… gives you a headache if drunk in quantity! We tried to move there 6 years ago, but without success, so why try again now?

In June 2014 my mother in law had a stroke; she was terminally ill and was going to die very soon. We all prepared for her death as best we could, explained, again, as best we could, what was happening to the children and spent the next couple of weeks travelling the 300 mile round trip to visit her in hospital. Suddenly, the weeks had turned to a month, two months... three... then suddenly it was Autumn.  Miraculously she was still with us, but not with us, as she never really regained consciousness. We continued to travel each and every weekend from Somerset to the Midlands to visit her and my father in law, and this was how life was for eight months.

Waiting for someone to die is probably one of the worst things we will ever have to do. We experience the grief of losing someone we love, feelings of helplessness, anger and sadness, but then as time goes by, we feel something else, something taboo, something we shouldn’t admit to… We start to want them to die! We cry at the thought of it, but there comes a point where you feel that the person you love no longer has quality of life, no dignity in their dying and no hope of recovery. Then the pain you feel is not in their dying, but in their living. My mother in law passed away on 6^th February, 34 weeks, 238 days after her stroke. 

 

For eight months I planned my escape. My cottage by the sea. In my mind I would sit by the fire, drinking my whisky, listening to the wind, rushing and roaring, drowning out the silence of our sadness. My husband and I shared in this dream, the thing that was keeping us going over the dark winter months, through the tears… And then we decided to do something about it.

 I started to apply for jobs.

 I applied for a few posts in Scotland and then had an interview, but nothing really felt quite right. But then… A post came up… In Orkney… And then… The offer of an interview! Could this be it? Could our dream actually become a reality? I felt scared, a little frightened, under pressure to make this happen. So I did something I would never, ever consider doing... I did nothing! 

I made the conscious decision to place myself in the hands of fate and not be scared. Not feel anxious, impatient or excited about the possibility of it all. I would be calm and just “go with the flow”, if it was meant to be, it would happen. I would go to the interview, do the presentation and see what happened next. I was not going to worry about the money, how I was going to get there, the child care etc.  Fate would be my guide… Sounds daft I know! But you know what…

 It worked!

I Was Born In The Wrong County

Many people flock to Wiltshire to experience the countryside and the history, the picturesque villages that film and TV producers salivate over. They picnic on the Salisbury Plain or the Marlborough Downs, sip tea in “Larkrise” or “Candleford”, a weekend break from the hub bub of city life.

 I left Wiltshire at 18 and moved to Hampshire. Again, another beautiful part of Britain, I lived not far from the New Forest, but Hampshire was far too populated for me, so again I moved. This time to Somerset; yet another rural county, yet another setting for the latest period drama. So now I live amongst the famous folk… the drummer from that indie band, the fashion designer for that famous store, even Hollywood stars have second (third, fourth…) homes here. All drawn by the voluptuous rolling Mendip Hills, pretty villages and “hip” towns. But still I am not satisfied.

I have no reason to want to leave. I have a lovely stone cottage that backs onto a river with views over the trees and fields. My cottage is in a pretty village, with wonderful people, many of whom have become very good friends, and of course my amazing friends and family live near by, and they are just the best. Getting to my children’s school is like a trip to Neverland;  down a steep hill, down to twisty roads with high hedges, past a waterfall, then the manor house, that has a helicopter in the garden! There are Guinea fowl and ducks that aimlessly wander, trespassing onto well-manicured lawns, chickens peck and scratch, only disturbed by the collared doves and I am not even exaggerating! As you would expect all the cottages in the village have roses growing around the door in summer and daffodils and snow drops line the road side verges in spring. The school itself is a tiny Victorian building, only 40 pupils, who play in the shade of a huge Hornbeam tree.

Many people dream to have what I have, so why would anyone in their right mind want to leave? This is why I decided to write this blog, to help friends and family understand my reasons for wanting to move. It is not about them, I will miss them It is not about the house, the village, the school, money or employment. It is just simply that, since I was 18 I have wanted to live in Scotland, by the sea. 

It is hard to explain the pull that you get to a place that you have no family connection to. However I will try…

 I have always felt a need to be by the sea, even as a teenager. At weekends my mate and I would drive (well she would drive as I hadn’t passed my test by then) down to Swanage and paddle in the sea, watch the sun go down, eat fish and chips and drive home before the 11pm curfew! When most 17 year olds were drinking Mad Dog 2020 on the street corner or shagging each other, we drove to the coast! Then at 18 she and I went for a week’s holiday in Edinburgh and that is when it all started for me… My love affair with the Scotland and its coastline.

To be honest, it can be any beach, not just a Scottish one, but when I stand on the beach and breathe in the sea air, all my worries and stresses disappear. It doesn’t matter if the sea is summer holiday, ice cream and deckchair calm, or a raging tempest of wild untameable power, the effect of just being there is the same. I think my children feel it too. Occasionally in the midst of winter they will ask to go to the beach. When you ask why, after all it isn’t really “beach weather”, they will say “I just want to go. We can take our wellies and a picnic and wrap up warm”! Quite right to!

The same is true for Scotland itself. When the M6 becomes the M74 I feel myself relax and my mood lightens, I drink in the scenery and imagine what my life would be living in that cottage, or the farm house over there. However, on the return journey at the same point of the motorway, I start to feel quite sad. I find myself twisting round and staring sadly at the Welcome to Scotland sign on the North bound carriage way, whilst trying to avoid looking at the Welcome to England sign – stupid I know!

 Whenever there is a period of upheaval in my life, I plan my escape. My cottage by the sea or on the edge of a sea loch. I will spend my days watching the wildlife through binoculars or shell seeking on the beach with the kids, and my evenings will be spent sat by the fire listening to wind, drinking whisky. A romantic dream, I know! But now this dream is one step closer to happening, and very soon, all being well, our Awfully Big Orkney Adventure will be a reality…