Shetland Day-by-Day

Here I am on the doorstep in Drummond Place last Friday, about to walk up to the bus with Greek Helen. There is a fast and frequent bus service to the airport from Waverley Station and no need whatsoever that I or anyone else can see, for trams. The skirt I ordered had arrived at the last possible moment, and was perfect.

I met Kristie and Kath in the airport. They are first cousins and firm friends. They were brave to take me on for so intense an experience – not only a comparative stranger, but old to boot. It worked well. It was wonderful to have someone to talk things over with, at the end of the day – “Wasn’t it interesting, when she said…” We had always noticed the same things.

An easy flight, and time to case the joint in Lerwick on an unexpectedly mild and pleasant afternoon. We ate there, and then drove – Kristie drove – to our b&b/hotel, Burrastow House. I had been dubious about staying so far from Lerwick. It was more than a bit scary, finding it in the dark during Kristie’s first experience of driving on the left. Except that for much of the journey she didn’t have to, as we travelled on single-track roads.

Burrastow is wonderful. Vaut le voyage.

On Saturday, we got to work. First, the Shetland Museum. The staff kindly posed for us, so you could see their uniforms.

The girl on the right then took us on our tour of the textile collection -- which is, needless to say, brilliant. Kristie took a picture of me peering at a lace shawl – I trust it will turn up soon. Our guide (herself not a native) said that her husband’s sister’s husband, or else her husband’s brother’s wife, I can’t remember, was the grandson/granddaughter, as the case may be, of  Provost Jimmy Smith, “Ooie Jeemie”, who famously sent a box of Shetland knitting to Buckingham Palace.

The Prince of Wales picked out that Fair Isle pullover for himself, and played golf in it. And the rest, as they say, is history.

We went on to the Bod of Gremista, just north of Lerwick city centre. A bit less, perhaps, than I had hoped for, but interesting, none the less.

Then – Jamieson and Smith! But this was Saturday afternoon, and we missed it by ten minutes. Just as well – we needed hours there.

So we spent the rest of the afternoon shopping. I sought out a butcher, hoping for some seaweed-fed lamb. This should be the season. But he said no, that’s Orkney. (Is that true?) Instead, I bought a leg of reestit mutton. I will make a soup of some of it for our lunch today. When I got home yesterday, my husband and I tried little slices. It was both less salty, and tenderer, than I expected, and really rather tasty.

And then back to Burrastow for supper and bed. The owner, a very French Belgian, cooks. No menu. You sit down. He brings it in. Wow!