Island Life - A View from Shapinsay by writer and poet Sheila Garson

 


My thanks to Shapinsay writer, Sheila Garson for this piece. Sheila writes poetry in English and Orcadian. She has contributed to the extremely popular anthology Gousters, Glims and Veerie-Orums available from the Orcadian Bookshop.

Sheila writes:

Island life

I’ve lived on an island all my life and likely see it differently from folk who have come here to live. The sea and the boat are central to most things. Life revolves round the boat timetable and the challenges of the weather. The way and pace of life has evolved over generations, but the sea has always been our road.

The boat is of course what many would call the ferry. To an Orcadian saying ferry doesn’t come naturally. To us boat is an all-encompassing word that covers a myriad of sea going vessels.

For islanders the day is planned round boat times, it dictates when the post arrives, parcels are delivered, the papers or the bread are in the shop and when the roads are busiest. Islanders arrange their appointments in Kirkwall to fit between boat times and our dentists and hairdressers are in tune to this. As someone who commuted to work in Kirkwall for many years, our dinner time is still at the back of 6 after the last boat of the day.

We have a good regular service and the 25 minute journey is a time to socialise for many, with the cabin usually a buzz of conversation as folk catch up. Some like to use the time to chill, read or even work. Hardy folk go right up on the top deck to enjoy the sea air and the views.

For car drivers reversing on to our boat, negotiating down the ramp on the pier and up the boat’s often steep ramp certainly hones reversing skills. Even worse if you have to reverse into a space between the side of the boat and a big lorry. All the sensors on the car are beeping telling you to stop, but the boat crew are saying keep going till you’re in the right spot on the deck. One of the joys of island life!

The journey crosses The String, a narrow channel between Shapinsay and the Mainland (Orkney’s main island) where the North Sea and the Atlantic meet. Even on a clam day there can be a quite a swell here and the boat will roll as it is lifted on the waves. In a winter gale this piece of water can be tricky to cross, depending on the state of the tide and the direction of the wind. Strong winds or big tides can also make getting the boat moored at the hard ramps in Kirkwall and Shapinsay difficult.

It's little wonder that most islanders follow the weather forecast with interest. They listen to it on the wireless, watch it on TV and consult a whole range of apps to make sure they are well informed. Many older local folk watch out for nature’s signs of impending bad weather too and they keep an eye on the moon so they know the state of the tide.

There’re odd days in the winter when sailings are cancelled and even a day now and then when the boat doesn’t sail at all. Yes, it can be inconvenient, but that’s all part of the rich tapestry of island life. My cupboards are always well stocked in winter just in case. There is an island shop, but most folk also shop on the Mainland where there’s more choice and more competitive prices.

Important as the sea and the boat is to islanders, island life is also about community and that sense of place and belonging. Islands tend to have close knit communities, where folk look out for each other. There’s a resilience and an independence in islanders because so much of what urban dwellers take for granted is overseas to us.

I hope you get that sense of place and belonging from my poem about my island home, which features in Gousters, Glims and Veerie-Orums.


This island

This island

with its sandy ribbons

its cosy geos

its busy craigs

its endless wave-torn shore


This island

with its mysterious grassy howes

its hidden brochs

its resting places

its ancient, curvy-linear homes


This island

with its white, snowy swan

its tern swoop

its curlew call

its skein of feral geese


This island

with its field neatly squared

its road long

its ditch deep

its farm set to a grid


This island

with its kye grazing contented

its seal basking

its otter hidden

its sheep and folk entwined


This island

with its soaring Disney castle

its douch folly

its gas tower

its past cast in stone


This island

with its village by the shore

its helping tide

its sheltered bay

its cave, a dark delight


This island

with its face raised to the sun

its heart warm

its soul kind

its soil, a welcome home.

                                                                                                ©Sheila Garson May 2022




Shapinsay - the boat


Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Literary Skulduggery from Shetland, courtesy of poet Chris Tait

Image
  I am excited and delighted that poet Chris Tait has agreed to contribute to the Quill. Chris is not only an outstanding poet, but is also a playwright, fantasy writer and spoken word supremo. She currently lives in Glasgow, but her writing still very much flows from her Shetland roots. The poems are from her anthology Literary Skulduggery.  https://amzn.eu/d/11yOlvM The Stone Solitaire Islands A skull in a blistered helmet Called from the Nordic crews His bones marched streets in amulets And sailed seas like a bruise His ruined croft was Camelot A golden egg by a goose Rings on cushions from rats Bonds for the guizer jarl's house The ruffled manes of hamlets In a rock measured radius Crofters jousted for their plots Tassels are handcuffs and a noose Beelzebub and his Minions Patrick's criminal fingerprints He clumsily slipped the sovereign At the castle with razor points The carriage burst to a pumpkin The little match girl was a servant Learning spells with cauldrons Banquet
Read more

Irish Folklore by Nina Oram

Image
  I am delighted to welcome Irish based writer Nina Oram to the Quoyloo Quill. Nina's books are bulging treasure chests of Celtic folklore, some of which are not too far removed from Orcadian folk legends. When Babs offered me the chance to talk about my writing and Irish mythology and folklore, I was thrilled and honoured. I thought it would be so easy, after all, my trilogy and many of my stories are immersed in Ireland’s rich tradition, and yet the more I tried to put my thoughts down, the more elusive they became. It was like unpicking a knot. My YA Dark Fantasy Trilogy started with a trip to the Carrowkeel Tombs, five neolithic tombs perched on top of a hill in County Sligo in the province of Connacht. Being able to sit inside stone walls that had been built millennia ago, listening to the wind shriek past, was for me, sublime. Evoking, as it always does, that strangely wonderous feeling of having connected with something magical. But old magic. The magic of the crow,
Read more

Saving Private Diaries by Orkney Scriever Alison Miller

Image
Thanks to Orkney Scriever, Alison Miller, for her reflections in this blog piece. Would I like my personal diaries and letters to be read by other people when I’m dead and gone? Would I like them mined for works of fiction? It’s not an easy question to answer. Sure, while I’m still on the planet, the thought of somebody raking through private letters and journals feels somewhat uncomfortable. What did I say? What did I reveal about myself that I would rather keep hidden? Did I malign people? Was any of it actionable? I could ensure this scenario never happens by getting rid of diaries and letters while I still have time. On the other hand, when I’m dead, I don’t imagine I’ll give a stuff.   I recall a writer friend telling me she’d destroyed all her journals, written over decades of her life because she didn’t want her daughters-in-law to read them when she’s gone. The pang I felt when she said this was visceral. How could she consign years of details of her life, years of thoughts, ye
Read more