I've just been reading up on the storms of late in the western isles, and it suddenly occurred to me; how easy is it to get a handyman, or repair person, in to fix things when they go wrong? Roofs especially I can imagine to be problematic(?), especially after storms. But what happens if there is a big storm, and a lot of people require repairs at the same time?
The same for plumbers and electricians; are there many on the islands, and can they be easily called on to do emergency repairs?
Sunday, 27 November 2011
Tuesday, 22 November 2011
Buying a house
My last question for a while - and thank you for the responses so far.
Are there any estate agents in the Outer Hebrides apart from Anderson Banks? Also - any tips on buying a house, or looking for one?
(Okay, that's two questions!)
Thank you
Are there any estate agents in the Outer Hebrides apart from Anderson Banks? Also - any tips on buying a house, or looking for one?
(Okay, that's two questions!)
Thank you
Sunday, 20 November 2011
Post Office
A quick question, but what is the postal service like in the Western Isles. Is it efficient, friendly, flexible? Do items take significantly longer to arrive?
Saturday, 19 November 2011
The price of milk
Can I ask what the price of milk is, if you buy it in a supermarket or a shop in the Western Isles?
That may seem like a mundane measure, but it's often a better one for calibrating the excess that is charged for offshore produce, as milk is a universal need and also a perishable food.
That may seem like a mundane measure, but it's often a better one for calibrating the excess that is charged for offshore produce, as milk is a universal need and also a perishable food.
Monday, 14 November 2011
Strange behaviour online
I haven't posted for a week, and it has been interesting to watch the blog. The blog postings about Berneray have received many views, while the one about Barra and Vatersay - which has a much larger population - has received only a small fraction in comparison.
Similarly, I've had several comments about Berneray that I've been unable to publish, as they are clearly in slander or libel territory. About Barra? Nothing.
I wonder why this is? I gather that most people on Berneray have Internet access, and many use it daily. Is, perhaps, the difference due to the low take-up of broadband and the Internet on Barra and Vatersay? Are Berneray people more attuned to finding information, or "debating" online? Though many of the comments that have hit this blog that I've rejected couldn't really be called "debate", to be honest.
Similarly, I've had several comments about Berneray that I've been unable to publish, as they are clearly in slander or libel territory. About Barra? Nothing.
I wonder why this is? I gather that most people on Berneray have Internet access, and many use it daily. Is, perhaps, the difference due to the low take-up of broadband and the Internet on Barra and Vatersay? Are Berneray people more attuned to finding information, or "debating" online? Though many of the comments that have hit this blog that I've rejected couldn't really be called "debate", to be honest.
Monday, 7 November 2011
Barra and Vatersay
Barra is a spectacular island. We took the ferry from Oban, a small but busy town on the mainland, and spent several hours passing through and by some spectacular scenery. At one point, a school of dolphins or purpoises followed the Caledonian MacBrayne ship in parallel with us. A magical, albeit long, trip.
The first view of Castlebay: perhaps not so nice. It doesn't, on the approach, look that pretty. But looks can be deceptive, and several wanderings around the centre of the town soon formed an attachment with it.
Our bed and breakfast, a few minutes from the ferry terminal, was warm and friendly. We were greeted with an expansive tray of tea, biscuits, cookies and cake. Genuine hospitality, and warm too. Immediately, we noticed that the accents here were much different to those in Lewis and Harris, having a more distinctly Irish lilt to them; or perhaps that's just the people we met.
We spent several days on the beaches, and exploring the island as well as Vatersay. And, my God - the beaches. Even in the rest of the Western Isles, I have never seen beaches so ... perfect ... as the ones on Barra and Vatersay. The larger of the two islands being circular, it was easy to get around on the bus and walk on every beach. Every beautiful beach. Vatersay was a bit of a hike, across a causeway and round bendy single track roads for several miles, until we came to a narrow stretch of island with a brilliant beach on either side. Which is where we stayed, and picnicked, for the day. One other thing - Vatersay appears to be a place for naturists as we saw not one, but two, couples run naked into the sea. Odd, and the water looked cold. But each to their own.
On the top of the island, and a little to the east, you can see the Uists. There was some debate and confusion about whether Barra was part of the Uists or not, but the majority of people thought not. Perhaps, as locals, not surprising. It's at that location on Barra that we saw a plane land. On the beach. And this is how people "commute" between Barra and the mainland. Seriously. Apparently the local member of parliament lives on the island, and when he's not in Westminster sticking it up 'em, he's on his farm (croft, here) tending his sheep. I feel I must look up his travel expenses at some point.
Places to eat and drink. Outside of Castlebay, these are few and far between, though in Castlebay itself there's a surprisingly large number of options if you explore a bit; certainly enough to provide variety for a week or two. The bar talk was friendly to obviously English mainland tourists like us. I mentioned access to the Internet and broadband at this point, which caused a roar of somewhat cynical laughter from the bar tender and the customers. It appears that Barra would be at the end of the chain of wifi relay signal masts, of the notoriously unreliable system I've heard about on other trips (and other people have now commented on, on here). There is little, possibly no, faith that the system will work in Barra, and people were hanging on to BT or someone else upgrading the exchanges.
Would I live here? The beaches are the best I've seen in the Western Isles, and I've seen quite a few now. The people seem more relaxed, and less money-oriented, than those further north. The community seems more at peace with itself than islands such as Berneray. I didn't have any English-oriented hassle. So it's tempting.
But the communications seem extreme, possibly a bit too extreme for me. The five hour ferry ride, to end up in Oban. The flights, in a tiny plane that must surely be subject to the weather. And the Internet looks like it'll be unreliable dial-up or nothing for several, or many, years to come. Barra is isolated, more so than the other islands in the Western Isles; perhaps that's why there is such a strong sense of community there.
The first view of Castlebay: perhaps not so nice. It doesn't, on the approach, look that pretty. But looks can be deceptive, and several wanderings around the centre of the town soon formed an attachment with it.
Our bed and breakfast, a few minutes from the ferry terminal, was warm and friendly. We were greeted with an expansive tray of tea, biscuits, cookies and cake. Genuine hospitality, and warm too. Immediately, we noticed that the accents here were much different to those in Lewis and Harris, having a more distinctly Irish lilt to them; or perhaps that's just the people we met.
We spent several days on the beaches, and exploring the island as well as Vatersay. And, my God - the beaches. Even in the rest of the Western Isles, I have never seen beaches so ... perfect ... as the ones on Barra and Vatersay. The larger of the two islands being circular, it was easy to get around on the bus and walk on every beach. Every beautiful beach. Vatersay was a bit of a hike, across a causeway and round bendy single track roads for several miles, until we came to a narrow stretch of island with a brilliant beach on either side. Which is where we stayed, and picnicked, for the day. One other thing - Vatersay appears to be a place for naturists as we saw not one, but two, couples run naked into the sea. Odd, and the water looked cold. But each to their own.
On the top of the island, and a little to the east, you can see the Uists. There was some debate and confusion about whether Barra was part of the Uists or not, but the majority of people thought not. Perhaps, as locals, not surprising. It's at that location on Barra that we saw a plane land. On the beach. And this is how people "commute" between Barra and the mainland. Seriously. Apparently the local member of parliament lives on the island, and when he's not in Westminster sticking it up 'em, he's on his farm (croft, here) tending his sheep. I feel I must look up his travel expenses at some point.
Places to eat and drink. Outside of Castlebay, these are few and far between, though in Castlebay itself there's a surprisingly large number of options if you explore a bit; certainly enough to provide variety for a week or two. The bar talk was friendly to obviously English mainland tourists like us. I mentioned access to the Internet and broadband at this point, which caused a roar of somewhat cynical laughter from the bar tender and the customers. It appears that Barra would be at the end of the chain of wifi relay signal masts, of the notoriously unreliable system I've heard about on other trips (and other people have now commented on, on here). There is little, possibly no, faith that the system will work in Barra, and people were hanging on to BT or someone else upgrading the exchanges.
Would I live here? The beaches are the best I've seen in the Western Isles, and I've seen quite a few now. The people seem more relaxed, and less money-oriented, than those further north. The community seems more at peace with itself than islands such as Berneray. I didn't have any English-oriented hassle. So it's tempting.
But the communications seem extreme, possibly a bit too extreme for me. The five hour ferry ride, to end up in Oban. The flights, in a tiny plane that must surely be subject to the weather. And the Internet looks like it'll be unreliable dial-up or nothing for several, or many, years to come. Barra is isolated, more so than the other islands in the Western Isles; perhaps that's why there is such a strong sense of community there.
Sunday, 6 November 2011
Comments so far
I think I may have deleted some comments that were not yet published. My apologies. I have comments set to be approved first, as I was advised this is necessary when running a blog concerning the Western Isles. Unfortunately, blogging is not as intuitive as I thought it would be.
If your comment does not appear here in a reasonable time, then please can you retype it? Again, I apologise for my technical and internet incompetence.
However, I've also had three comments which I've rejected, which I guess show that moderating comments makes sense.
One of these was from someone upset by the notion of someone from England moving to the Western Isles, and contained a lot of tedious unpleasantries. There's been enough research undertaken on racism - which is what the comment was - to show that this is often a manifestation of inadequacies in a persons life. Relationships, social skills, sexual fulfillment or something else. I briefly sympathised with the author for whatever was the deficiency making his life unhappy, then deleted his comment.
Two other comments made serious allegations against named residents of Berneray, and appeared to be from other residents of that island. I'm simply not interested in my blog becoming some kind of online trolling forum for people to make slanderous or libelous comments about each other, while hiding behind their computer screens. Take that nonsense into the playground, where it belongs.
As I have said before, if you don't like my commenting policy, then go and start your own blog.
If your comment does not appear here in a reasonable time, then please can you retype it? Again, I apologise for my technical and internet incompetence.
However, I've also had three comments which I've rejected, which I guess show that moderating comments makes sense.
One of these was from someone upset by the notion of someone from England moving to the Western Isles, and contained a lot of tedious unpleasantries. There's been enough research undertaken on racism - which is what the comment was - to show that this is often a manifestation of inadequacies in a persons life. Relationships, social skills, sexual fulfillment or something else. I briefly sympathised with the author for whatever was the deficiency making his life unhappy, then deleted his comment.
Two other comments made serious allegations against named residents of Berneray, and appeared to be from other residents of that island. I'm simply not interested in my blog becoming some kind of online trolling forum for people to make slanderous or libelous comments about each other, while hiding behind their computer screens. Take that nonsense into the playground, where it belongs.
As I have said before, if you don't like my commenting policy, then go and start your own blog.
Saturday, 5 November 2011
Gossip
I'm not sure what to ask here. I think it's how does gossip work in communities in the Western Isles? Is it different in towns such as Stornoway to small islands such as Berneray, where I've witnessed people gossiping about their neighbours first hand?
(I'm not sure what I mean by "work" here. Happen?)
I am wondering if it may be a case of moving from one extreme (urban English city) to another (rural Scottish island community). Here in Coventry, in my street, I suspect no-one outside of each household gossips. Because no-one seems to know who their neighbour is. There's a paliple suspicion of everyone that you can almost feel, which is quite negative, so no-one speaks to their neighbour. I find this quite a negative environment to live in for many reasons, and that is one of them.
On the other hand, a place where everyone gossips about everyone else - how does that function without everyone ending up disliking each other?
(I'm not sure what I mean by "work" here. Happen?)
I am wondering if it may be a case of moving from one extreme (urban English city) to another (rural Scottish island community). Here in Coventry, in my street, I suspect no-one outside of each household gossips. Because no-one seems to know who their neighbour is. There's a paliple suspicion of everyone that you can almost feel, which is quite negative, so no-one speaks to their neighbour. I find this quite a negative environment to live in for many reasons, and that is one of them.
On the other hand, a place where everyone gossips about everyone else - how does that function without everyone ending up disliking each other?
Comments on this blog
Thank you for the comments over the last few days. Many of these have been useful, in providing answers to questions.
I guess I'd better work on my "Barra" trip posting. Though Barra is not on my list of places I am considering moving to, due to the very unacceptable broadband service, we still had an enjoyable time there and came away with much to think about.
I guess I'd better work on my "Barra" trip posting. Though Barra is not on my list of places I am considering moving to, due to the very unacceptable broadband service, we still had an enjoyable time there and came away with much to think about.
Mobile phone reception in the Western Isles
The article by Iain Maciver on mobile phone reception is somewhat disturbing. Though not a crucial service for me - I prefer using Skype over the Internet, due to the cost - it is surely a fundamental service for many who live in the islands. Not just for their work, but also as a mechanism for safety, when on the moors and near the shore.
Speaking of which; is there an accurate online guide to mobile phone coverage in the islands?
Speaking of which; is there an accurate online guide to mobile phone coverage in the islands?
Wednesday, 2 November 2011
Berneray trip. The good parts.
There were many highlights to our short stay in Berneray. Here is what stood out.
1. The beach on the west side of the island. I walked the length of this beach three times, and marveled in the purity of the experience on all three occasions. Zero, and I mean zero, pollution of any kind. Fresh air. Spectacular views of islands and hills. Unspoilt sand. No people.
Unlike the smaller east beach, which we avoided after the incident between the female hostelers and the local thug, this beach had a much calming effect on the soul and mind. It's probably here that I realised that I really did want to move away from the hellhole that is the midlands, with endless traffic, anger, cars, concrete and tarmac, and move to somewhere like this.
2. The gentleman on the tractor near to the beach. On my own, I had possibly the most sustaining and positive, life affirming, conversation I have had with an individual in years, if not decades. The gentleman - I suspect from his demeanor and words he was ex-forces - was a worldly man, welcoming to the island and knowledgeable of cattle and the machair. He possessed a calm and peace about him that I admit I envied somewhat.
3. Another gentleman, who invited myself in for a drink. It's odd; on the mainland, if a stranger invites you into his house for a drink, the immediate reaction is one of extreme suspicion as to his motives. Here, one loses those fears and dark thoughts.
We chatted for what turned out to be two hours. He said some surprisingly personal things about his circumstances and those of his ancestors, which I am not going to repeat here as that feels inappropriate. And the "drink" turned out to be the equivalent of a large mug, filled with whisky, which I could not finish. The remainder of my walk back to the expensive army barracks which masqueraded as a hostel was warm, but perhaps not as direct as it could have been...
When I return, I will make a point of bringing him a bottle of single malt.
4. The children. My God, they were polite, and friendly. This shocked me, living in a life-sapping English city containing kids best described as feral, and perhaps alien to the basics of civilised society. These children on Berneray had manners, and spoke well. And didn't spit, swear, or beg money from you, which is sadly more the norm than the exception in Coventry. The local children of Berneray: a credit to themselves, their parents and the local schooling. On the basis of this alone, they deserve success in life.
5. The small but interesting and informative museum on the island, with the friendly guide who provided information on where to walk around the island and what to see. It is notable that larger and more populated islands in Scotland do not provide such a good service. And do not get me started about the "official" tourist offices of Scotland, whose sole existence seems to be geared to extracting inflated fees from English tourists. Avoid, and visit places like the museum in Berneray for your information needs instead.
6. The view from the top of the hill. I do not possess an adequate vocabulary to describe the view, so I won't even try. I would just advise you to climb the small hill and see for yourself.
There were other 'highlights', but those are the things that stood out from our short trip to Berneray.
1. The beach on the west side of the island. I walked the length of this beach three times, and marveled in the purity of the experience on all three occasions. Zero, and I mean zero, pollution of any kind. Fresh air. Spectacular views of islands and hills. Unspoilt sand. No people.
Unlike the smaller east beach, which we avoided after the incident between the female hostelers and the local thug, this beach had a much calming effect on the soul and mind. It's probably here that I realised that I really did want to move away from the hellhole that is the midlands, with endless traffic, anger, cars, concrete and tarmac, and move to somewhere like this.
2. The gentleman on the tractor near to the beach. On my own, I had possibly the most sustaining and positive, life affirming, conversation I have had with an individual in years, if not decades. The gentleman - I suspect from his demeanor and words he was ex-forces - was a worldly man, welcoming to the island and knowledgeable of cattle and the machair. He possessed a calm and peace about him that I admit I envied somewhat.
3. Another gentleman, who invited myself in for a drink. It's odd; on the mainland, if a stranger invites you into his house for a drink, the immediate reaction is one of extreme suspicion as to his motives. Here, one loses those fears and dark thoughts.
We chatted for what turned out to be two hours. He said some surprisingly personal things about his circumstances and those of his ancestors, which I am not going to repeat here as that feels inappropriate. And the "drink" turned out to be the equivalent of a large mug, filled with whisky, which I could not finish. The remainder of my walk back to the expensive army barracks which masqueraded as a hostel was warm, but perhaps not as direct as it could have been...
When I return, I will make a point of bringing him a bottle of single malt.
4. The children. My God, they were polite, and friendly. This shocked me, living in a life-sapping English city containing kids best described as feral, and perhaps alien to the basics of civilised society. These children on Berneray had manners, and spoke well. And didn't spit, swear, or beg money from you, which is sadly more the norm than the exception in Coventry. The local children of Berneray: a credit to themselves, their parents and the local schooling. On the basis of this alone, they deserve success in life.
5. The small but interesting and informative museum on the island, with the friendly guide who provided information on where to walk around the island and what to see. It is notable that larger and more populated islands in Scotland do not provide such a good service. And do not get me started about the "official" tourist offices of Scotland, whose sole existence seems to be geared to extracting inflated fees from English tourists. Avoid, and visit places like the museum in Berneray for your information needs instead.
6. The view from the top of the hill. I do not possess an adequate vocabulary to describe the view, so I won't even try. I would just advise you to climb the small hill and see for yourself.
There were other 'highlights', but those are the things that stood out from our short trip to Berneray.
Berneray trip. The bad parts.
I will split my brief notes on our trip to Berneray into two sections. First, the bad or disturbing parts.
We (a party of four) were there for three nights. We stayed in the hostel on the east side of the island, and spent much of our time exploring the terrain and speaking to people we met.
1. The hostel itself was a money-making pit. Bedding was unclean. The rooms were crowded, almost intolerably so. Facilities were either worn or non-functioning; from over-use, perhaps? Privacy was as good as zero. The attendant was gleeful in her job of collecting the rather steep revenue. I wonder how many thousands of pounds the hostel generates per month in high season. And what percentage of it is reinvested in the buildings.
2. One of the people our party spoke to was a lady of retired, though not elderly appearance. She appeared to be quite positive and friendly at first, until we asked how things got done on the island, Berneray being unusually tidy and well-kept in comparison to other islands in the Uists. She launched into a prolonged whiny-rant about how she'd been "forced", on moving to the island, to join various groups (she seemed confused as to exactly which ones) in order to remove the "deadwood" - her word - and "finally get things done". She mentioned being an "experienced project manager" over and over, and how the island benefitted from her skills. One of our party, who despises displays of egotism, responded in a sarcastic manner, congratulating her from saving the island single-handedly from dereliction. Unbelievably, she took this as a sincere compliment and agreed with the point.
3. We dined - well, had tea and a small snack, in the Lobster Pot tea room. We'd already heard some possibly exaggerated tales about the current and previous owners of the tea room and shop from a local, but decided to risk it anyway. The food was okay, actually, better than that served in many tea rooms on the mainland.
However, from the shop side of the establishment, we could hear speaking in Gaelic. And, possibly unknown to the loud woman speaking, one of our party was fluent in the language and gave a rough translation. Much of what was said was local "gossip", an issue I am uncomfortable with, concerning the status of various residents marriages and the cost of houses on the island. However, at one point, the loud woman made several remarks regarding our party, which - to put it mildly - were not positive.
We paid up, the gossiper standing next to us and doing an excellent two-faced act of friendliness, after slagging us off moments before. Until the member of our party fluent in Gaelic wished her farewell in her native tongue; you have never seen anyone clam up and go white so quickly. Anyway, we left and didn't return, eating in Lochmaddy (a short and bumpy bus ride away) for the remainder of our trip.
4. Two young ladies staying at the hostel had a distressing experience, returned from a walk on the nearby beach, very upset. They had been intercepted by what sounded like a deranged and violently angry man, who claimed that the beach was private and that members of the public were not allowed at that end of it. They tried to walk past him, but he pushed one of them over, into the sea. He then threatened an act of violence against the women, and they ran back to the hostel, arriving near-hysterical. The description they gave was of a deeply unpleasant sounding individual, with oddly an accent not of these islands.
One of our party offered to contact the police on their behalf. They decided, instead, to leave immediately and caught a bus south to the Uists rather than stay on the island another night, as they did not feel safe. Several people staying in the hostel armed themselves with a few implements and walked the length of the beach and back, but did not see this lout.
Worse. In conversation the next day, with a retired gentleman who lived on the island, we discovered that this was not an isolated incident but one which occurred on a regular basis over many years. The police had been ineffectual in this issue, even though the thug had a 'record' for various offenses. One of our party asked about the 'community' dealing with the issue; the local responded with some disgust that the community were afraid of the thug, and that the men here would not put down their drink and raise a finger unless a large cheque was involved at some point. So much for the Hebridean community spirit!
Those were the bad parts. However, there were many good aspects to our time on Berneray, which I will detail in my next post.
We (a party of four) were there for three nights. We stayed in the hostel on the east side of the island, and spent much of our time exploring the terrain and speaking to people we met.
1. The hostel itself was a money-making pit. Bedding was unclean. The rooms were crowded, almost intolerably so. Facilities were either worn or non-functioning; from over-use, perhaps? Privacy was as good as zero. The attendant was gleeful in her job of collecting the rather steep revenue. I wonder how many thousands of pounds the hostel generates per month in high season. And what percentage of it is reinvested in the buildings.
2. One of the people our party spoke to was a lady of retired, though not elderly appearance. She appeared to be quite positive and friendly at first, until we asked how things got done on the island, Berneray being unusually tidy and well-kept in comparison to other islands in the Uists. She launched into a prolonged whiny-rant about how she'd been "forced", on moving to the island, to join various groups (she seemed confused as to exactly which ones) in order to remove the "deadwood" - her word - and "finally get things done". She mentioned being an "experienced project manager" over and over, and how the island benefitted from her skills. One of our party, who despises displays of egotism, responded in a sarcastic manner, congratulating her from saving the island single-handedly from dereliction. Unbelievably, she took this as a sincere compliment and agreed with the point.
3. We dined - well, had tea and a small snack, in the Lobster Pot tea room. We'd already heard some possibly exaggerated tales about the current and previous owners of the tea room and shop from a local, but decided to risk it anyway. The food was okay, actually, better than that served in many tea rooms on the mainland.
However, from the shop side of the establishment, we could hear speaking in Gaelic. And, possibly unknown to the loud woman speaking, one of our party was fluent in the language and gave a rough translation. Much of what was said was local "gossip", an issue I am uncomfortable with, concerning the status of various residents marriages and the cost of houses on the island. However, at one point, the loud woman made several remarks regarding our party, which - to put it mildly - were not positive.
We paid up, the gossiper standing next to us and doing an excellent two-faced act of friendliness, after slagging us off moments before. Until the member of our party fluent in Gaelic wished her farewell in her native tongue; you have never seen anyone clam up and go white so quickly. Anyway, we left and didn't return, eating in Lochmaddy (a short and bumpy bus ride away) for the remainder of our trip.
4. Two young ladies staying at the hostel had a distressing experience, returned from a walk on the nearby beach, very upset. They had been intercepted by what sounded like a deranged and violently angry man, who claimed that the beach was private and that members of the public were not allowed at that end of it. They tried to walk past him, but he pushed one of them over, into the sea. He then threatened an act of violence against the women, and they ran back to the hostel, arriving near-hysterical. The description they gave was of a deeply unpleasant sounding individual, with oddly an accent not of these islands.
One of our party offered to contact the police on their behalf. They decided, instead, to leave immediately and caught a bus south to the Uists rather than stay on the island another night, as they did not feel safe. Several people staying in the hostel armed themselves with a few implements and walked the length of the beach and back, but did not see this lout.
Worse. In conversation the next day, with a retired gentleman who lived on the island, we discovered that this was not an isolated incident but one which occurred on a regular basis over many years. The police had been ineffectual in this issue, even though the thug had a 'record' for various offenses. One of our party asked about the 'community' dealing with the issue; the local responded with some disgust that the community were afraid of the thug, and that the men here would not put down their drink and raise a finger unless a large cheque was involved at some point. So much for the Hebridean community spirit!
Those were the bad parts. However, there were many good aspects to our time on Berneray, which I will detail in my next post.
Tuesday, 1 November 2011
Don't all rush at once
Eight views over the last few days, according to the Stats option. I welcome suggestions on how to "get" readers who can knowledgeable comment.
Sunday, 30 October 2011
Question: Broadband
My second question concerns broadband.
I've found a considerable amount of information and opinion online concerning broadband services in the Western Isles. However, much it is negative. Though, I have no idea how much of that is exaggerated.
I do not need broadband for work if I move there. However, I do need it for communicating with friends and family back on the "mainland", and around the world. I use Skype in particular; but also the BBC iPlayer and several other online multimedia services.
I require reliability, and a sufficient speed of connection, above all. Is this difficult or impossible to achieve in the Western Isles?
I've found a considerable amount of information and opinion online concerning broadband services in the Western Isles. However, much it is negative. Though, I have no idea how much of that is exaggerated.
I do not need broadband for work if I move there. However, I do need it for communicating with friends and family back on the "mainland", and around the world. I use Skype in particular; but also the BBC iPlayer and several other online multimedia services.
I require reliability, and a sufficient speed of connection, above all. Is this difficult or impossible to achieve in the Western Isles?
Saturday, 29 October 2011
Western Isles or Outer Hebrides?
My first question ... which of these should I use? Which is appropriate and agreeable?
Hello ... world?
My name is Peter. I live in Coventry, in Warwickshire. It's not the nicest place in the world; roads, traffic, pollution, the blank faces of people in the streets. An eternal greyness hangs over the city, sucking the life and colour from the populance.
I travel and escape; travel to escape.
I've been thinking for a while of moving, now I'm coming up to early retirement. After extensively walking, trekking, hiking across Wales, Ireland and Scotland, the area I am considering most seriously is the Western Isles - known also as the Outer Hebrides.
I've visited there on several occasions now. Lewis, Barra, and on my most recent visit, Berneray; a most enigmatic island in the Sound of Harris. There, in particular, I met and heard stories of the most wonderful, kind and generous people; but also of some less desirable people. It hasn't left my mind, and I will write - type? - more on this forthwith.
The aim of this blog is to explore the possibility of moving to the Western Isles. A permanent relocation, not a holiday home, of which I do not approve. A house should be lived in, a home, not made an empty shell for the convenience of the wealthy and the dispossession of the poor.
I welcome comments. However, after reviewing the somewhat ... excitable and occasionally dark nature of other forums and blogs concerned with the Western Isles, I wish to make it clear that malicious or abusive comments will not appear. It's my blog, and if you don't like this policy, then as the youngsters say: jog on.
Onwards...
I travel and escape; travel to escape.
I've been thinking for a while of moving, now I'm coming up to early retirement. After extensively walking, trekking, hiking across Wales, Ireland and Scotland, the area I am considering most seriously is the Western Isles - known also as the Outer Hebrides.
I've visited there on several occasions now. Lewis, Barra, and on my most recent visit, Berneray; a most enigmatic island in the Sound of Harris. There, in particular, I met and heard stories of the most wonderful, kind and generous people; but also of some less desirable people. It hasn't left my mind, and I will write - type? - more on this forthwith.
The aim of this blog is to explore the possibility of moving to the Western Isles. A permanent relocation, not a holiday home, of which I do not approve. A house should be lived in, a home, not made an empty shell for the convenience of the wealthy and the dispossession of the poor.
I welcome comments. However, after reviewing the somewhat ... excitable and occasionally dark nature of other forums and blogs concerned with the Western Isles, I wish to make it clear that malicious or abusive comments will not appear. It's my blog, and if you don't like this policy, then as the youngsters say: jog on.
Onwards...
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