Chick, chick, chick, chick, chicken, lay a little egg for me.........

Living here surrounded by wandering livestock made me think that it was about time we had a few chickens here on the croft.

I have never kept chickens before and the nearest I've been to keeping chickens is sharing an office with someone who brought me delicious fresh eggs and funny anecdotes about her chickens Vera & Vera's Mate.

A chance sighting of an advert on Facebook spurred me on to putting a couple of cardboard boxes in the boot of the car and scuttling over to Stornoway to meet a woman who was rehoming some of her 100 Rhode Island Reds. My first ever encounter with a chicken was chasing this bemused flock around an enclosure until I managed to grab a few by the tail and stuff them in my box in the boot.

My preparations for keeping chickens consisted of making sure I had a large enough cardboard box to transport them in, probably not the best of planning but they arrived back home safely enough and jumped out of the box and strutted indignantly around each other and around the garden. 

I had decided that my four new chickens could use the smallest room in the blackhouse as their den as someone had already cut a perfectly hen-shaped hole out of the corner of the door already for them to wander backwards and forwards from the garden. I put a couple of damaged bedside tables on their side against the wall, stuffed them with sawdust and propped the doors open on a couple of bricks. I made a perch from an old fence post and jammed it firmly in a former window alcove and covered the floor with straw and then let them get on with it.

Perching and posing

After 2 days I found 4 eggs. and for over a fortnight I had four eggs every morning. This was going to be dead easy.

But then for days and days all I could find was one egg in the back of one of the upturned bedside cabinets. 

One evening The Dog went wandering around the garden and came to an very excited halt in the corner beside the five-bar gate. He suddenly turned on all the charms of a properly trained gun dog, which is what cocker spaniels are supposed to be. He wagged, and stood on three legs and turned and looked and wagged a bit more and stared and pointed with his raised paw. Surely enough, in a clump of reeds was a perfectly turned nesting place with over a dozen eggs in. A further egg hunt proved to be fruitful with three other nests in among the reeds in the corners of the garden all with a fine clutch of eggs.

Real Free Range

After 3 months of keeping chickens I'm still unable to see anything like a pecking order. They all seem to be equally polite and greedy in similar proportions and don;t appear to have a leader or a subordinate. Maybe I'm not looking at them at the right time but I haven't observed any kind of hierarchical pecking order at any time, except when it involves The Dog. 

The Dog is definitely of the lowest order. After successfully herding, cornering and catching the neighbours Black Rocks and dumping them on our sofa these four are the doyennes of doggiedom! They run circles around him and witter away each other about how indignant they are about him. 

They are really cheeky. After dominating The Dog they've tried to do it with us by coming into the house at every opportunity and brushing passed us when we try to confront and catch them to chase them back down the hall. At one point they shoved The Dog out of the way and encircled his feeding bowl and sat there like one of those wooden hand-held toys pecking away at his Pedigree Chum or whatever dog food it was that was on offer that week.

Cheeky Cluckers!

Keeping chickens is dead easy. They all seemed to be doing really well until one day when I went to collect the eggs and found one of them dead next to her chum in the same nesting box. As I removed her body the other chicken started calling and clucking and kept it up for nearly 10 minutes. It was really sad.

Still, the other three all seem healthy enough and we're getting three eggs a day which we swap for mackerel and other delights that the neighbours have got that we may need.

And who knows.....maybe I could pluck their feathers to stuff my cushions, which is another story.

Take The Weather With You........

The longer I am here the more I like being here. Every day I wake up and can't wait to look through the window to see what kind of day greets me. I even look through the window in the dead of night just in case something interesting is happening in the sky. I keep waiting for the time when I look into the night sky and quote the line from Local Hero when McIntyre says "It's amazing. I wish you could see it! I wish I could describe it to you like I'm seeing it!"

We've had reports about the northern lights and one night we stared at the sky for ages watching a weird pattern waving and dancing around. It wasn't as colourful or as startling as everyone tells us the northern lights are but it was definitely a strange and wonderful glow stretching and wavering around and across the horizon. The following day we saw photographs of a glorious light show of aurora borealis from the same part of the sky as we had been watching, we just hadn't stayed up til after 2am to watch them growing more and more colourful.

The lights I didn't see on 30th August
58º Degrees North Photography managed it, though!

We have plenty of time to see them I'm sure and in the meantime I shall just peak through the blackout curtains at 2am to see what I can see stretching out over the Atlantic.

I have never seen The Milky Way looking as milky and three dimensional as I have from the croft - even with our street lighting!! Yes, we have street lighting. I keep threatening to ping the bulb right outside the house with a catapult so that I can see the night sky without a neon light glow polluting the darkness. They go off shortly after midnight so I have managed to be a sky and star gazer a few times, few being the operative word. There are very few clear, cloudless nights but when they come BAM! it's a visual overload with the constellations looking as if they've been specially picked out and given an extra polish to be extra shiny and clear. We're so fortunate to be able to experience it.

And, like all the other islanders, I'm becoming obsessed with the weather. This is a totally pointless exercise as the weather never ever does what you think it's going to. It never does what the Met Office tells us it's going to do. The weather can only be predicted if you talk about yesterday's weather.Everyone knows what yesterday's weather was like and in case you missed it you will be told what it was like. You will also be told that they knew what it was going to be like. 

Watching the storm through the kitchen window

The yardarm has now passed the equinox and the nights have stopped creeping in slowly and surreptitiously and they now land with a bang when you're not expecting it. One minute you're washing the dishes and counting the Greylag Geese in the croft and the next minute the deep navy blue sky has encased your view and reminded you how close to winter the islands are. And the clocks haven't even gone back yet! It will be dark by 6pm in a few weeks time.

How will I deal with days and days of back to back dismal weather and dark and dreary nights? Probably by being completely overwhelmed by the beauty of the sunshiny light whenever it appears, no matter how briefly. Only last week the wind dropped in the exact same proportions that the sun shone. We had the brightest turquoise skies, the whitest, whispiest clouds and the breathtaking site of a magnificent sea eagle spiraling upwards in a thermal above the croft. I've never seen such a fine example of why it's called the white-tailed sea eagle. All from my front doorstep when I was bringing the bins in!

No eagles but clouds of whispiest white in a blue October sky.

I'm very lucky and feel exhilarated every single day by something I see or something I hear. It was definitely  A Good Day the day the decision to move here was made.

If a picture paints a thousand words.......

The weather has been a little disappointing to say the least. We listen to the news about the glorious weather further south and get snippets from family about sunny days and warm weather. When the sun comes out here it compensates for dismal days of mist and drizzle. One day of sunshine can obliterate the memories of central heating in August and 3 weeks of daylight without seeing the sun.

We've been watching the forecast so we could take a picnic out and walk around the northernmost point of The Isle of Lewis. Today, 5th September 2013 was the day we packed a rucksack with ham and cheese sandwiches and freshly laid hard boiled eggs with a pork pie or two and lashings of ginger beer and went walking the coast between The Port Of Ness across the cliffs to the lighthouse at The Butt Of Lewis, onwards to Europie beach and back through the little crofting community of Knockaird and back to Ness.

The views and vistas need very few words.

Enjoy.

Ness Harbour - we left the car here and walked about a 7 mile circuit.

This picture doesn't really demonstrate how high and sheer this cliff is.

Rob

A look out cairn - yes I added a stone to it.

Dun Eistean medieval fort - only accessible across that very scary spindly bridge.

An amazing stack - I expect it has a local name but I can't find out what it is.

Beautiful

The Butt of Lewis lighthouse coming into view.
Lazybeds much in evidence.

Fences disappearing over crumbling cliff edges.

Looking back towards the lighthouse - we're now on the Atlantic coast.

Another cairn  with a winding tail

Same cairn - different angle

The dog enjoyed his walk

In the summer time when the weather is fine........

What a hectic few weeks! It’s been so, so busy with visitors and travellers and festivals and schedules to stick to but worth every sleep deprived minute!

I’ve now had two lots of visitors who were taken round a few of my favourite spots on the island so I could show them just what it is that infiltrates my being and makes me full of joy to live here. I keep looking around at all the fantastic places I go to and take other people to and feel like it’s all my own work sometimes! I feel so bloody proud and chuffed that I live here and just want to show it off to everyone else. I LIVE HERE!! 

We’ve also had a new friend staying here with us, let me tell you about Kate. Kate was introduced to me via email after a call went out to The Islanders to consider offering a room to people who were travelling from all over the world to The Hebridean Celtic Festival, affectionately known as HebCeltFest. The HebCeltFest is now 18 years old and is now firmly established on the folk festival circuit and creeping across onto the type of lists so loved by Guardian journalists about The Best This That and The Other. It is a fantastic festival. Big enough to attract Big Names (this year it was Van Morrison) yet still small enough for the loos to remain fragrant. You can even park without paying and still only be a two minute walk away from the main festival site in Stornoway Castle grounds. It’s a spectacular setting overlooking the harbour with remarkable sunsets and a distinct lack of midges thanks to the sea breeze.

The setting in front of Stornoway Castle

I volunteered to work at the festival in return for a free weekend pass and I contacted the organisers to let them know I had a spare room for someone. I was put in touch with Kate who was hoping to be a volunteer too if she could find somewhere to stay. Kate is from Melbourne, Australia and is about 3 months into a year of travelling around Europe before heading off to University for 8 years to train to be a vet. Kate just sat at our kitchen table and it just felt as if she’d been there for ever. What a lovely young woman she is. I’m so pleased to have met someone as adventurous and excited about travelling and yet completely grounded.  She told us she’d been saving up since she was about eight years old for her trip around Europe and her favourite possession was a miniature model of the Eiffel Tower  - which we found in the car after she left, oops. We’ll get it back to her somehow.

Seriously, if anyone is wondering how to fill in a few days of their summer they can’t do anything better than volunteer at the festival. It’s had some amazing reviews this year and it volunteering is a great way to attend the festival for free. It’s so laid back that it doesn’t feel like you’re working even when you’re on duty. 

However, the queues for the food stalls were ridiculously long and vegetarians hardly got a look in so next year I think I might even set up a food stall. Sandwiches and Welsh cakes, perhaps. Anyone want to join me?

The view from the festival field

Straight after the festival I blagged a lift back to Wales with my visitors, Karyl & Chris, to go and see Bruce Springsteen playing at The Millennium Stadium in Cardiff. What a showman that guy is! I’ve never been a huge Sprinsgteen fan but after hearing his Seeger Sessions CD I started to listen to his other stuff a bit more and started to appreciate his music a bit more so just had to go and see him when he was playing in my home town. Big huge enormous thanks to my mucker Karyl for buying the ticket for me for my birthday.

I came back up to Lewis in my own car with Jennie and Sarah helping to do the overnight driving so we could catch the early afternoon ferry from Skye back to Harris. It felt like we were being naughty – like we were on a road trip. Lack of sleep made us all giggly and every lovely thing we saw became exaggerated and magnified beyond all expectation. And some of the lovely things we saw were absolutely fantastic. We drove the length of Loch Ness while it grew steadily lighter and lighter. The dawn finally broke as we started to rise up over to Rannoch Moor. It was totally surreal to see right in front of us a fine stag standing on a crag overlooking silhouetted against the rising sun. It was one of those simple moments where we looked at each other for reassurance that we’d all just seen the same thing – Walt Disney couldn’t have designed the scene any better. Shortly after that we were right on top of the moor with all the lochans and marsh pools glistening golden in the early sun when an eagle soared out of nowhere and flew down low over the car and glided across the sky in front of us. The absolute majesty of that early morning journey across the moor will remain with me for a long time.

Sunrise over Rannoch Moor.

Luckily the summer weather stayed put for a few days and I was able to show off the best bits of the island when the sun was shining.

Since my visitors left I’ve had a little bit of time of my hands to take up a couple of new hobbies. I’ll tell you all about my chickens and my rug making in the next chapter.

You Ain't Never Caught A Rabbit........

Ohhhh      s t r e t c h       s  t  r  e  t  c  h        s    t    r   e   t   c   h        s     t     r     e     t     c     h

Wag wag wag wag wag wag wag wag wag wag wag wag  waggity waggity wag wag.

Great day yesterday. Great. Great . Really great.  They wanted to see me really urgently so I jumped on them urgently and they woke up urgently then and I knew that. I knew that. I knew that. I knew that.

Wag wag wag wag wag wag wag wag wag wag wag wag wag wag wag.

I knew they wanted me to get off then. So I got off. And then got on just to check and then got back off. And then They got up as well and so I showed them the way downstairs and showed them where the door is and showed them how to open it and showed them where outside is and went outside.

Yes. Outside. Sniff sniff sniff sniff sniff sniff sniff wag wag wag wag wag wag wag wag wag sniff sniff wag sniff sniff sniff sniff OH WAG WAG wag wag wag wag there here there here here here here there there THERE yes! Wag wag wag wag wag sniff sniff sniff sniff sniff sniff sniff pause: crouch: touch: ENGAGE

Nobody looking left. Nobody looking right.  Wait.  And relax. Mmmmm Nice engage.

Run run run run run run run run run run run run run awaaaaayyyyyyyyy. Wag wag wag wag wag wag wag sniff sniff sniff sniff sniff sniff sniff wag wag wag wag and breakfast, BREAKFAST! “Breakfast!” “Breakfast!” wag wag wag wag wag.

Right. Where was I ?

Yesterday. Yesterday was a great day. There was cheese. Yes. Cheese. I remember the cheese I had a bit of a wag because of the cheese. Oh yes. Waggity wag wag wag.

And a walk. A walk “Walkies” a walk a walk oh waggity wag wag walking wagging walk wag. Oh sniff and smell and smell and sniff and dogs. Little white dog. Jumping jerky jog. Gate. Locked in and jumping and barking and wagging and jumping. I walked and walked and didn’t jump but walked and walked and walked and walked past them and the gate and didn’t even look at the jumping. I sniff over there and here and there and there and there and over here and there but not there. Not there at the gate where the little white dog and jerky jumpy dog were. Oh no. Not me. I never lost control. Not there. Or there. Or there. But THERE!! YES! Yes. Pause; crouch; touch; ENGAGE. HEYYY Gate Dogs. Sniff THAT!! Wag wag wag wag wag wag wag wag wag. Walked off. Walked and then run run run run run run run run run run run run run run run run run awaaaaaay. 

Sheep. Sheep Sheep. “no!” “NO!” I didn’t. Oh no. Not me. I never lost control. Run run run run run run run run run run run run run. A gate! Wait at gate. Dog at gate. Wait dog, wait dog. Make them open the gate. OPEN THE GATE!! And GO! Run run run run run run run run run run run run run run run run awaaayyyy. Gone. They took ages to walk down so I ran back and went faster but they just walked and didn’t sniff anything. Not a thing. Not the grass. Not the post. Not that stone. Not the fence. Not that bit of grass. Or that bit. Or that bit. Or that bit or the fence. Or that  - ewwwww – what was THAT? Better go back and check. Better check. Better check. Sniff sniff sniff sniff sniff wag wag wag wag wag wag wag wag sniff  sniffing wag wag wag sniff sniff sniff sniff and pause; crouch; touch; ENGAGE. 

And sea. See the sea. See the sea. See. See. See. See. Sea. Sea. See sea? Sea see? Sea sea sea. Yeah! Yeah! Yeah! Sea. SEA! SEE THE SEA!!!  Quick. Quick. Quick. Run run run run run run run run run run run run run awaaaay. Wet. In the sea. I’m really wet. Water. Sea. Sea. Water. Wet we wet wet wet wet wag wag wag wag wag wag wag wag wag wag wag wag. It’s great. It’s great. It’s great. Wet. Water. Sea. Wet. Great. It’s great. Run run run run splash. Run. Oh it’s great. The sea’s great. It’s great in the sea. This is great. It’s great. Really, really great. It’s great in the great sea. See me in the sea. See me? See me?  SEAWEED! SEAWEED! KILL THE SEAWEED!! Get it. Chew it. Shake it. Kill it. Who do you think you are? Catch it. Grab it. Take it. Shake it. Who do you think you are? Got it. Had it! Dead it! Kill it! Gone. Water water water splash splash wet wet splash splash wet jump water sea sea.

It’s great in the sea. I like the sea. The sea’s great.

Oh look! There’s the sea. I forgot about the sea. It’s there. JUST THERE! Quick! Run! Run run run run run run run run. Oh I forgot about the sea. See the sea? See the sea? Sea? See? Sea. Quick. Quick. Quick. Run run run run run run and wet. Splash and wet and water and sea and wet and splash and wet and wet and swim swim swim swim swim I CAN SWIM IN THIS BIT oh wag wag wag wag wag wag wag wag wet wet wag wag waggity waggity waggity wag swim swim swimming see me swimming. See swimming. Sea swimming. Sea swimming. Swimming swim swim swim splash splash soaking soaking splutter cough soaking wag wag wag wag wag wag wag wag wag. SEAWEED! Kill the seaweed. Get the seaweed! Nasty. Stinky. Slimy. Slinky. Who do you think you are? Twisty. Slidy. Nasty. Tasty. Who do you think you are? Got that bit! Had it. Took it. Killed it. I am The Great Seaweed Dog Master! Yes! I rescued Them from The Seaweed. Clever dog. Good dog. Good dog. Clever dog. Dog dog dog dog dog wag wag wag wag dog dog dog wag dog wag dog dog wag dog.

So yesterday right. We went for this walk. To the sea and there was sea there and it’s really, really  great and wet in the sea and crouch; pause; touch; ENGAGE.

Sorry about that.

Yeah it’s great. The sea’s great. Really great. I like the sea. Don’t like the sea weed though.  I like the furniture. I like the box. I like the blankey blanket. And the furniture. I have to get off the furniture. GET OFF THE FURNITURE! I have to get off the furniture. But I can get on the couch. I go on couch. When they’re not on the couch I can go on the couch. So I go on the couch. Sometimes when I’m on the couch they tell me to get off the furniture. GET OFF THE FURNITURE! Don’t get it. Get off. Don’t get it. Me? Off? Off the couch? GET OFF THE FURNITURE! I’m on the couch. I’M ON THE COUCH.  “Get off the furniture.” Stupid them.

Shhhhh. Shhhhhhh. Shhhhhhhhhhh. Sleeping. 

Door. Door. DOOR! Quick! QUICK DOOR! They are very good at opening the door especially when I need to - y'know - ENGAGE.

Garden's nice. Garden's good. Wag sniff sniff sniff sniff wag wag wag wag wag wag sniff sniff sniff. Starling! They fly fly fly fly fly fly fly fly off and off and off and quick flying off. I just pretend to chase starlings. I'm not stupid. I can'y fly. I'm The Dog. The Dog can't fly. You need feathers not fur. Feathers. Fluffy feathers like that. FEATHERS! Big feathers! Fly feathers! FLY FLY! EEEK!! "Cluck!" "Chuck chuck!" "Cluck!" FLY! Why don't you fly?!?!  FLY?  WHY DON'T YOU FLY??? arggghhhhh !! Sit still. Sit still. Still. Still. Sniff sniff sniff sniff "Chuck chuck!" Sit still. Sit sit. "CLUCK!" I'm Sitting! I am! Look!!! Run run run away. I'm a dog. You're just a bit chucking starling run run fly fly fly fly. Sniff sniff sniff sniff sniff sniff "CLUCK!" I'm sitting. I AM!! Sit still. Sit still, Sit sit sit sit. Wait don't wag.

Sniff.

"C L U C K    CHUCK !! "

I'll     -     just    -   walk    -      backwards    -    run run run run run run run run run run run run awaaaaay. Crouch; Touch; Pause: ENGAGE ENGAGE ENGAGE

I need my blanky because I'm a bit cold. Not because I'm afraid of a big chucky starling type thing. Cwtchy on the couch. Cwtch. Couch. Blanky. 

Mr. Postman Look And See If There's A Letter In Your Bag For Me.........

Here I am right out on the edge of Europe and my post gets delivered more regularly than it ever has when I lived in the heart of the city. And I don't even have a letter box!

I scared poor Alex, one of our postmen, a few weeks ago when he announced his arrival by flinging open the kitchen door when I was sitting there in my mis-matched pyjamas. I gently folded my arms over my bra-less boobs to hide the nipply bits and didn't stand up for fear of showing him even more than he'd bargained for. Poor Alex, I expect he's asked his employers for counselling by now. But there again he's a Ness Man - famed for their mad courage and their Guga Hunting - more of which in a future post.

There's been a bit of a battle here on the islands of late about the fate of the Post Offices. The main Post Office in Stornoway is threatened with closure and amalgamation with one of the supermarkets. Even though the supermarkets are not that far from the town centre they are both ordinary supermarkets and just like every other ordinary supermarket these two are also surrounded by tarmac and parking spaces. This is bad enough to negotiate when you're a fleet footed adult who is used to the antics of drivers in car-parks but not so easy when you've got a couple of kids in tow or you just want to collect your pension. Also - which supermarket will get the contract? The Co-op, who oppose the closure of rural shops and Post Offices or Tesco who will do anything to attract more customers through their doors? Hmmmmm....let me think.

On this side of the island things are a bit more basic. Our local Post Office is not much more than a garden shed with a bit of a pull-in outside for a car or two. Inside it's like an Alladin's Cave of stationery supplies stocked with everything you could possibly wish for to send anything you like in any shape, style or form and pens and pencils and all manner of things to stuff in your pencil case or that special drawer in the kitchen.

Ness Post Office

As I said, we don't have a letter box and neither do lots of houses here. It's the wind. The wind rarely stops so that last thing you want is a rattly letter box. This is one of the reasons that people have mail boxes beside the gate to their house. The other reason is that it's a bit different from a terrace of houses or a street of semis all in a neat little row for the postman to wander along posting things in letter boxes. Here the properties are spread out and set right back off the road at the end of long gardens that were traditionally the long skinny croft. The postie would have a difficult time fitting all of the deliveries into one shift if he had to physically walk up and down each garden path between driving from one house to the next. So I suppose I should be thinking about getting a mail box. There is plenty of variety here and in the 'waste-not-want-not' culture of island life there's an abundance of madly eccentric ideas for creating one.

I could make one out of a bread bin.

My neighbour does what most people do and mount an old bit of drainpipe onto a post.

Maybe my old microwave is more weatherproo

Some of the mail boxes last longer than the properties do!

Some of them are a bit over the top like this one on the road to Callanish.

So I'm looking for ideas of what to use for my mailbox. I've got a good solid square built gatepost that I could attach it to which is probably ideally suited for an old microwave, just about the right size. Anyone got any ideas about what I could use? Answers on a postcard please........

Working 9 to 5 what a way to make a living..............

We've been here a little over 3 weeks and it's just starting to feel like maybe we're not on holidays after all.

The reality of needing to really watch how much we're spending has started to happen and I've already started an eBay account to sell some of my finds that I've been collecting for months to sell on and make my fortune. The reality of it is that the little gem you''re convinced is going to make 500% profit is really a heap of junk and you'll be lucky to make your money back after you've paid postage. But never mind, it makes me feel like I'm trying.

I've also got a couple of job applications on the go. I wanted to potter. I wanted to work behind a bar or clean some holiday cottages and make patchwork quilts for tourists. I'm too lazy. I'm better off doing the job I've trained long and hard for so I've applied to the local authority for social work jobs. I've spent 20 odd years denying that I'm a social worker, I'm even reluctant to give it Proper Capital Letters as a job title because I feel such a fraud. I've never been good at restricting what people need. I truly begrudge applying a budget to people's needs and assessing their situation in a way that costs the least. Maybe it's changed since I did my first couple of jobs a thousand years ago and then decided that I really didn't want to be a social worker - with or without capital letters.

I loved working for Shelter. I enjoyed making sure that people had their housing needs met. I enjoyed training people to make sure that they could also give sound advice to people. I worked in a glorious part of the country and traveled extensively throughout Somerset and Dorset meeting with Citizens Advice Bureaux and helping their volunteers to get their heads around housing law. I remember driving around agricultural Dorset and weeping at the pyres of bloated carcasses of the slaughtered cattle at the height of the foot and mouth disease outbreak and designing some specific training around Agricultural Tenancies to pass on my knowledge to all of those unemployed farm and agricultural workers that the government of the day kept telling us would be devastated and lose their livelihoods. It never happened. The tragedy of the day meant that more farmers killed themselves than found themselves homeless.

Moving back to Wales found me working less in the field of housing and more and more with domestic abuse. 

(crikey, this is turning into a cheerful little read!)
Again, it was fighting for people's rights rather than restricting what they needed that kept me motivated. Of course a lot of the work I did meant that I was using my social work skills (still with little letters). I was also working collaboratively with Social Workers (Capital Letters) to make sure that children were safe and protected because of the desperate situation they were being brought up in. A lot of the time, though, I found myself increasingly frustrated with social work departments who would, it seemed, invest a lot of time and effort into families who would 'do as they were told' and make for a positive report to be written. Those families who were deemed to be difficult or non-co-operative or simply too chaotic to engage with on any real level were just left floundering with more and more little boxes left unticked. I do worry that I might become that kind of Social Worker - restricted with budgets and time and innovation so that the only reward comes from telling your manager what you have been able to achieve rather than point out all the families that have been left wanting. Left needing, in fact.

I used to watch the efforts of foodbank workers and collectors and distributors (me, in a lot of cases) and grow increasingly angry that it was accepted in this day and age that families were so poor that not even their benefits stretched far enough to buy tins of spaghetti hoops and baby wipes. Then I would grow more angry that tins of spaghetti hoops were seen as adequate nutrition and money that could have been spent on half a dozen eggs was spent on a packet of baby wipes, something that is now viewed as an essential motherhood spend. I'm sure I used the corner of a dampened tea-towel on my kids.

So, the thought that I might end up being a Social Worker doesn't exactly fill me with enthusiasm.

But job opportunities here are limited. There are lots of part-time jobs advertised as you walk around the town. I could work for 18 hours as a customer adviser in Argos or as a bar maid in The Stornoway Sea Angling Club. I cold even offer my services as a van delivery driver for the Co-op but they're all part-time and low paid. I think I'd probably be better off as a part-time well-paid Social Worker.

I have been doing some networking, though. Urgghh!! N E T W O R K I N G - a horrible word - but maybe it's a necessary evil if I need to get my face and name known.

Apart from sticking my nose in where it's clearly not wanted (I'll elaborate shortly) I've also volunteered to do some stewarding at the Hebridean Celtic Music Festival known affectionately as The HebCeltFest. This is a huge music festival held every year in the grounds of Stornoway Castle. We designed our holiday around the festival a few years ago and watched KT Tunstall and Eddi Reader and some other brilliant musicians belting their heart out in a howling gale. I've been to lots of the major festivals in the UK and I think the setting for The HebCeltFest is one of the most stunning I've been to. But that's probably an age thing. You don't go to music festivals for the view - but I stopped going to music festivals because of my bladder. Another advantage of the HebCeltFest is the toilets. Very short queues and the wind keeps the whiff to a minimum! Volunteering at the festival might help me to meet people who know people who need people to work for them.

I thought I'd done that by inveigling myself onto the guest list for a Violence Against Women event at An Lanntair, our local arts venue. I thought it would be a good way to meet people who were in the same line as work that I'm good at. The head of the Community Partnership introduced me to some other people and I offered to assist with an important funding application with a looming deadline. I'm sitting here very frustrated that the deadline is 48 hours away and despite working very hard at writing pages and pages of proposals for them I've had just one email from one person telling me they were unable to open my attachment.

This is another reason why I'm reluctant to be a Social Worker - any innovation or attempt at doing something a bit different is viewed with suspicion by the powers that be because it might show up their shortcomings or give them a bit more work to do.

I tell you what - making patchwork quilts for tourists is growing more and more attractive.