MORE THAN I BARGAINED FOR

The safest place for me to be on Saturday 3rd October 2009, was at home.  A storm was raging outside - euphemistically described as a 'severe gale' by the Meteorological Office -  and it was whipping up into even greater fury.

It was just the right time to sort out the kitchen drawers in which I keep my preparation and cooking equipment; scoops, spatulas of many varieties, brushes,  a garlic press or two, serving tongs,  paring and peeling knives and more besides.   I rolled up my sleeves to sort out the gadgetry from the toys.

There were metal BBQ  skewers,  there were wooden ones galore, more than we'd ever use in a lifetime.  By the looks of things, they appeared to have procreated their numbers!  The metal ones were removed to other suitable places and the wooden varieties were pared down to sensible numbers.  The collection of wooden chopsticks were also reduced.  Just how many pairs of those does one small household need!

Being firm with myself, I then surveyed the tools. There was no point in keeping anything that had not been used or was past its best.  The tools I don't use that are preferred by hubby or sprog, when sprog's home, had to stay.  By now the 'disposables' were moving out very smoothly and the no longer wanted 'usables' were packed up for my favourite charity shop.

Last, but not least, the drawer liners came out so they and the drawers could be cleaned........"So that was the safe place I put the wire guard".  A favourite knife could now be brought back into use.  But- what else did I find, two alternative knives that were meant to fill the breach, (the heir and one to spare principle). 

Oh dear, my favoured wee knife was back on sale in the last eighteen months so I bought one, then I recently purchased another to replace one of the cheaper varieties that had started to deteriorate.  Now, with those extra knives that I discovered, which had been hidden by all the unnecessary stuff I had just cleared, I have rather more than I bargained for.

HOW SOME PEOPLE LIVED

What really struck me, was the changing light, the swift cloud movements, their formations in just two hours and the effects all these natural changes had on the scenes I had photographed. When I looked at the picture shots I had taken, it was hard to believe I had been in one place, or I had taken all the pictures in that time frame.

Admittedly, I had accidentally timed the visit to occur in a window of opportunity as the weather was highly unpredictable, being that there was a tail end of a hurricane blowing around us. Scotland has some splendid coastal area, many of them highly exposed to the elements as this one was.



The visitor information boards all warned of 'DANGER' particularly with the winds, the exposure to the cliffs, the rocks and the cold North Atlantic sea below. These were the same dangers the villagers who were here, faced on a daily basis. So dangerous was this location that livestock, chickens and children had to be tethered for their own safety. Imagine that!

The people had all gone, many had emigrated to New Zealand. A community of people had been 'cleared' from fertile inland homesteads to this dangerous, stony coastal space where they carved out some kind life for about 80 years, by various and ingenious means. By the early 19th century, all, bar three people, had moved on. The clues to how they survived were mostly hidden under the bracken, thistle and heather growth. All that clearly remained for us to see, in the early years of the twenty-first century, was a monument, constructed in 1911 by order of a great grandson of one of the families, who himself was a New Zealander. It reminded us that it was not just the shadows of people and children whose dangerous pathways we were treading, these people had identities. The monument ensured that their names would be remembered, though the visible evidence of their lives, their stone cottages, which were in ruins, would probably disappear eventually, these hardy people's legacy would not.



Amongst all the thoughts of times long gone, my camera clicked, recording the memories of the current day.