I think we were in shock for a few days, not able to formulate any plans. Andy was appalled at the thought that he might have to leave his school, his karate, his swimming, boating, water-skiing and his girlfriends. There were several pretty girls who came and went, swam in the pool, joined us for meals, but they changed so often that I was always afraid that I would address them by the name of someone else. I adopted a ruse that I had used when Elizabeth had been about the same age. I always addressed all new friends as ‘dear’ at first.
So what now? We knew that George’s month’s salary would soon evaporate and would not be replaced. And yet, we seemed to be trapped in a Micawber-like frame of mind, hoping that something would turn up. It just did not seem possible that there was nothing out there for George.
We began to sell our possessions. We had some favourite antique furniture and a few unusual articles from other lands. It would have been hard for the crofters to recognise their ‘Nurse Macleod’ in the person taking the box of goods into an antiques shop. We sold two rare Japanese dishes, a real Russian samovar, a lovely old Davenport and many more precious things. The proceeds would keep us for a month.
We were about to sell the boats as well when Mr Micawber was proved correct – at least in our case, and something did ‘turn up’.
A Californian colleague who had worked for the company for many years came to see George, telling us that he had found a job with a major engineering company in Pasadena. He confessed that he had suspected that all was not well and had put ‘feelers’ out before the company went bankrupt and had landed a good position. He had recommended George to the manager and an interview had been arranged.
George got the job! What a relief!
Andy relaxed, George was content and I… well, I felt that it was all too good to be true. And we know what they say – it usually is! But I tried to dismiss these doubts and began to think about retraining. I had to be sure that it was what I wanted as it would cost a considerable amount and, I suppose, we had had such a shock that I was reluctant to commit our replenished funds to a project that might not work out. It was many years since my UK training: I had been a district (country) nurse in a gentle, behind-the-times area in the Hebrides and I realised that I would be very out-of-date even in my native country, let alone in California with its modern technology, faster life style and its emphasis on youth. So I might be too old now anyway. I let things drift.
At about this time Argentina invaded the Falklands. Little was made of it in California – it was all so far away, but there happened to be two Argentinian boys at Andy’s school, one in his class. Andy and this lad very sensibly shook hands, saying that it was not personal in any way and would make no difference to their friendship. The other boy confronted Andy, dubbing him ‘an aggressor’, ‘filthy British enemy’ and much more. Luckily, no-one took much notice of his ranting, but Andy was careful to avoid him. How differently these two Argentinians dealt with the situation. If only nations could shake hands!
We resumed our confident boating, swimming, dog (sorry – canine) walking in the hills and as a family, we had good times but I was not convinced that our future lay here and I was reluctant to form any really close ties only to have to walk away from these friendly generous people one day.
Winter came again. Down near the coast where we lived, the temperature rarely dropped below seventy degrees but when the thermometer plunged to that apparently magical level, out came the fur coats. We felt it to be very pleasantly warm. But then again the ladies in fur had not known a Hebridean winter.
Less than one hundred miles away, up in the San Bernadino mountains, lay the winter playground of Big Bear Valley with its lake, lying at six thousand feet above sea level and the surrounding peaks topping nine thousand. In the summer the water sports were the main attraction but ski shops and ski lifts suddenly appeared like magic the minute that snow was forecast. Andy swiftly added snow skiing to his list of achievements. There was no snow skiing for George and me – far too cold – so we drank coffee in the ski restaurants and watched the world go up and down. It was a fascinating fact that, had we wished, we could have been skiing at about nine thousand feet in the morning at Big Bear and swimming in the ocean at San Clemente in the afternoon: the temperatures were so diverse and the road to Big Bear rose dramatically from the flat coastal plain into these mountains through steep and dangerous terrain.
Then, quite suddenly, the gentle, easy living that we were enjoying began to change yet again. I had a feeling of déjà view. Apparently overlooked in George’s contract was a phrase requiring him to be available for work overseas if necessary.
‘Would you be prepared to travel?’ he was asked.
‘Yes, of course’.
‘And to stay for months at a time?’
‘Well, um… yes, if I have to.’
I think the bankruptcy scare had made George ready to comply with almost any requirement that guaranteed his continuing employment.
So off he went. To Saudi Arabia!
At first Andy and I stayed in California, but eventually plans were made to return to the UK and put Andy into a public school as a boarder. Predictably, he did not like this at first but it proved to be an excellent education and he soon adapted. I would join George in Saudi and Andy would fly out for school holidays (which he did like). Life was changing irrevocably once again.
And the canines? Unfortunately, Pip had died while we were in California but Squeak came with us, becoming a much-travelled dog; one day, at the end of all our wanderings, he would fly back to the UK to resume a more normal doggy way of life in the English countryside.
So I watched from the plane as California with its sunshine, its friendly people and its easy, but somehow frenetic, lifestyle faded into the dusk.
Epilogue
CALIFORNIA AND NEVADA were fascinating episodes in my life, giving me an insight into lives lived entirely differently from those that I knew so well on Papavray.
In California, there was the need to strive to be always young and beautiful, to climb the career ladder as fast as possible. The near obsession with all things material was baffling to me and I contrasted these attitudes with the stoic acceptance of the status quo in the Hebrides, however harsh that might be. I saw the incessant purchasing of anything newly on the market and thought of the old, worn furniture and out-dated possessions of the crofters of Papavray, unnoticed and unimportant.
And yet, in this materialistic, fast-paced society, there was an unrestrained welcome for us: an instant familiarity. The invitation to share a barbeque after the briefest of meetings, the interest in us that was transparent and unembarrassed and I compared this with the equally welcoming but quiet attitude of the islanders and their gently probing questions.
I suppose the greatest and most obvious contrast between those precious islands and this big land of tall, blond people was the weather. Oh, the sunshine and the warmth! To be able to swim in the blue water of the warm Pacific, to lie on a beach in the sun with no thought of wind or rain was like a storybook existence to one who had been used to such things as answering night calls in snow, gales and bitter cold.
Life in Nevada was less focused on the need to possess ‘the latest’ or ‘the best’, to be always striving to climb the financial ladder or follow fashion. People were content with less and seemed somehow more real because of it, while the space and freedom of that state reminded me of Papavray and its inhabitants. So there were parallels as well as contrasts.
But even warm weather and easy living could not keep us in California or Nevada and, after only three years, we left for Saudi Arabia and continued to wander the globe.
Both these States, however, have taken their place in my heart and my memory and I often think of them and their people with warmth. I look back sometimes and dream of all the different countries, contrasting cultures and remarkable people that I have encountered and wonder, rather forlornly, if I really belong anywhere.
Then I remember tho
se misty, mysterious islands which will always call me back. They will never let me go.
Although I might wander the world in my remaining years, I shall always feel the threads that bind me to the Hebrides. Kind, comfortable threads which, like gossamer, are hardly there at all but are oh so strong! Compelling, embracing. How could I live without that memory of the purple mountains, the silver sea, snow and sunshine, starlit skies and scudding clouds, fierce storms and the lilting tongues of island people?
In the heat of deserts or among the roar of city traffic – wherever I might roam – I can fly in my imagination to ‘my island’ where, once more, I can feel the welcome of the unique and friendly people. I can absorb the peace and the raw beauty of moorland flowers and barren, rugged hills. I can stand on the shore, feeling the spray from the restless waves as they pound against dark cliffs or I may sit beside a chattering burn in the glen or on a rocky promontory where I can bare my soul to the splendour of a fearsome, fiery sunset.
I’ll never want to be free from the call of those windswept isles, those little worlds surrounded and protected by the tumultuous ocean. We will perish, as all mortals must, but they will endure for ever: timeless and eternal.
Glossary
Ben, Beinn or Bheinn A mountain.
Besom An unpleasant and irritating woman.
Bodach An old man. Not necessarily derogatory.
Burn Small stream, often fast- flowing and stony.
Caillach An old woman (often wife). Not necessarily derogatory.
Cairn Mound of stones etc., often as a memorial.
Ceilidh
1. A neighbourly meeting together in each other’s homes for food, drink and entertainment (amateur but often very accomplished).
2. Large, organised dances arranged for the tourists.
Clootie Dumpling A pudding, made in a cloth (the ‘cloot’), and boiled. It contains flour, suet, dried fruit, oats and sugar and. sometimes other fruit. Very occasionally it might be savoury.
Hogmanay New Year: 31 December, from midnight on (often for several days).
Loch Lake. Can be freshwater inland loch or sea loch.
Lum Chimney: – ‘sitting by our lum’.
Peat Decomposed vegetable matter, laid down thousands of years ago, mainly in acidic soils. Scotland and Ireland. It is dug and dried for fuel (or gardens).
Peat Hag An area of a peat bog which has been delineated for rental.
Sheiling Rough shelter for use by crofters on the high summer grazing for cattle and sheep. (Now largely obsolete).
Strupak (strupach) Tea and a bite (and a gossip).
Some other books published by LUATH PRESS
Heads on Pillows: Behind the Scenes at a Highland B&B
Joan Campbell
ISBN: 978-1-906307-71-4 £9.99 PBK
With so many people looking to leave the rat-race and start their own bed and breakfast in the country, Heads on Pillows give readers a personal glimpse into the unique world of B&Bs, where owners open up their own homes for guests to enjoy. This book offers witty anecdotes, personal experiences and helpful hints to anyone who aspires to enter the trade, from an award-winning B&B owner. From its modest beginnings as a single room B&B to the first five star Bed and Breakfast in the northern counties of Scotland, follow the story of the Sheiling and its owner. Part autobiography and part ‘how to’ guide Heads on Pillows is both informative and entertaining. This true account charts the growth and the development of the Scottish tourist trade, especially in the Highlands where the Sheiling is located, and offers through the experience of over 30 years an unparalleled insight into the Bed and Breakfast trade that is so enticing to so many. Foreword by Peter Lederer, Chairman of VisitScotland and managing director of the famous Gleneagles hotel.
A Problem Like Maria: A Women’s Eye View of Life as an MP
Maria Fyfe
ISBN: 978-1-910021-04-0 £14.99 PBK
A Labour Whip once revealed that in their office they sang songs about certain backbenchers. In the case of the Member for Maryhill, their choice was ‘How Do You Solve A Problem Like Maria?’ A frank account of fourteen years in Westminster from the rebellious Maria Fyfe – the only female Labour MP in Scotland when she was first elected. Fyfe recounts some of the most significant moments of her political career, from the frustrating and infuriating, to the rewarding and worthwhile.
A significant aim of writing this book was to set the record straight on that period in our UK Parliament. Another aim was to encourage interest in a political life when widespread cynicism discourages good people from thinking about it.
MARIA FYFE
Covering some of the most turbulent years of British and Scottish political history, A Problem Like Maria takes the female’s perspective of life as an MP in the male-dominated Westminster. This book reaches the parts of politics some people hope you never reach.
Women of Scotland
David R. Ross
ISBN: 978-1-906817-57-2 £9.99 PBK
In a mix of historical fact and folklore, ‘biker-historian’ David R. Ross journeys across Scotland to tell the stories of some of Scotland’s finest women. From the legend of Scotia over 3,000 years ago to the Bruce women, Black Agnes and the real Lady Macbeth, through Kay Matheson – who helped liberate the Stone of Destiny from Westminster Abbey – and Wendy Wood in the 20th century, these proud and passionate women shaped the Scotland of today. Leading his readers to the sites where the past meets the present, this is a captivating insight into some remarkable tales of the Scottish people that have previously been neglected, a celebration of and tribute to the Women of Scotland.
Often in my daily life I find that it is the women of Scotland that have the true patriot souls their menfolk sometimes lack. Scotland means something to so many of them, and Caledonia burns deep within their collective memory. I hope that both Scots men and women are inspired or moved by some of the stories told here. Women of Scotland, it is you who will bear and nurture our future generations. Instill in them a pride in their blood that will inspire the generations yet to come, so that our land will regain its place, and remain strong and free, defiant and proud, for the Scots yet unborn.
DAVID R. ROSS
Days Like This: A Portrait of Scotland Through the Extraordinary Stories of Its People
ISBN: 978-1-906307-97-4 £6.99 PBK
Days Like This is an anthology of selected true stories showcasing the ordinary genius of Scotland’s people. The book also features stories by celebrity curators Irvine Welsh, Roddy Woomble, Hardeep Singh Kohli, Siobhan Redmond, Jamie Andrew, and Evelyn Glennie.The stories are the result of a project run by Scottish Book Trust in partnership with BBC Radio Scotland, which gave people across Scotland the chance to write about a special day in their life. The project gathered hundreds of extraordinary tales, from born-and-bred Scots to newly arrived immigrants with the best ones broadcast on BBC radio Scotland.
Details of these and other books published by Luath Press can be found at:
www.luath.co.uk
Luath Press Limited
committed to publishing well written books worth reading
LUATH PRESS takes its name from Robert Burns, whose little collie Luath (Gael., swift or nimble) tripped up Jean Armour at a wedding and gave him the chance to speak to the woman who was to be his wife and the abiding love of his life. Burns called one of ‘The Twa Dogs’ Luath after Cuchullin’s hunting dog in Ossian’s Fingal. Luath Press was established in 1981 in the heart of Burns country, and is now based a few steps up the road from Burns’ first lodgings on Edinburgh’s Royal Mile.
Luath offers you distinctive writing with a hint of unexpected pleasures. Most bookshops in the UK, the US, Canada, Australia, New Zealand and parts of Europe either carry our books in stock or can order them for you.
To order direct from us, please send a £sterling cheque, postal order, international money order or your credit card details (number, address of cardholder and expiry date) to us at the address below. Please add
post and packing as follows: UK – £1.00 per delivery address; overseas surface mail – £2.50 per delivery address; overseas airmail – £3.50 for the first book to each delivery address, plus £1.00 for each additional book by airmail to the same address. If your order is a gift, we will happily enclose your card or message at no extra charge.
Luath Press Limited
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The Royal Mile
Edinburgh EH1 2ND
Scotland
Telephone: 0131 225 4326 (24 hours)
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email: [email protected]
Website: www.luath.co.uk
More Tales From the Island Nurse Page 30
