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?
Saturday, 5 November 2011
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?
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