I wake at some point in the night and realise i am not free to just travel on, that i have a big committment to several thousand pounds worth of new conservatory doors, a front door on my house that apparently is sticking so badly it needs a foot hefted against it and i need to get a code key lock fitted to my alley door as its complicated trying to arrange for guests to collect keys.

I fear that once home, i will settle and forget this desire to keep moving. Its always the first jump that is so hard to take. I need to make telephone calls to co ordinate the building matters with my dentist appointment but am reluctant to put myself in a home head.

In my diary i have a 60th 17 september, a swoosh party 18th, waterways triathlon 25th ( ha ha, cant see that happening right now) the dentist 28th, a nephews wedding 1st october then an empty diary. That gives me two weeks to do whats needed before i forget where my head is right now. I wonder if that is manageable.
Reality  11.08.16

I woke to rain this morning. I have been so very very lucky to have glorious sunshine the last two days. My task for today is to do my washing, post my journals home and begin to think about my onward journey for the next three days will be full of festival. Im hoping the festival will mean i connect again with the slovakian i met hitching (now coming here to camp) the old guy who gave us a lift (singing in a choir),  a lady i chatted with on the post boat and finally ocean rower Livar Nysted, coming to talk about his experiences. Its a bit like Norwich, these Faroe islands, so small.

Meeting another traveller this morning, at Hannes place, has been good for me. I talk with him about life and travel. He ssks what will stop me when i voice my concerns about keeping moving. Only myself i say. afterwards i decide to take the bull by the horns and try to fix some plans. I fall down immediately, for the fourth time since i have been here, my phone will not make calls. I spend three hours with vodaphone chat before i find a solution which sounds crazy but allows me to make calls. apparently i must deconnect the ‘automatic’ good provider im using and opt instead for the ‘manual’ weak signal of Foroyer Tele has worked well thus far and i do not understand, but for now, my phone works. I think they may be having network agreement issues as in the middle of my conversation, my new europewide contract, signed just before leaving the uk, is reduced by 35% for the rest of its life.
I have begun to put things in motion, next step, once dates are fixed for essential house matters, will be booking an airbnb for october in cornwall. That can wait. The island is beginning to buzz with festival preparations. The harbour is now full of coloured lights and flagpoles seem to have sprouted everywhere. The ladies have been asking for sand to improve the beach area for some time. Lorry loads have arrived but it is grey unappealing sand, very different from the natural pale yellow. The harbour is full of scum where the water is washing the sand. Im unsure if the scum will be gone with the next tide but i fear not.
I watch old fisherman sort their haul, a large whelk, a sea urchin, something looking like a blowfish, three large starfish, many enormous crabs and a wheelbarrow full of plaice, dab and flounders. They put rocks in a large old plastic tank and place it in the sea, add water but it is too buoyant, they take bucketfulls of the newly installed beach and pour in the tank. I think the water is to purge the crabs but in the event it is flatfish, the blowie, urchin and whelk that are put in. I no longer feel a tourist so carry no ipad for photos.
A rowing boat, one of the racing kind is drawing near, the man uses narrow bladed oars and turns one to use as a punt pole. The boat lurches when he moves, with its sharply contoured keel, he jumps out and two others join him to pull it from the water, i ask if they would like help, they say, all the help they can get. I am surprised by the weight, it is a ten man boat and must be much heavier than the smaller ones i have seen six youths carrying to and from practice. Not here though, this is the only island i have been where i have not seen rowing practice.
We lift, rather than pull the boat from the water, anxious not to damage the keel. A series of planks are being placed on the ground, in the manner used when i used to help push large chicken coops along the ground as a child. Where are you taking it, i ask, the ferry, they say. I express surprise, this is a distance of a hundred and fifty metres and it feels unmanageable with just rough uneven planks of wood, no rollers. They clearly think so too and manage to find a rusty set of wheels used for moving such boats but the wheels are more or less seized. Nevertheless they are placed under the keel as we lift and the four of us push. The fishermen, ignore us or watch but do not offer help. We work hard, stopping to rest half way and i am pleased the men are sweating and puffing just as much as i am.
We push again and place it in readiness for the ferry. a boat trailer will be brought over to take it to Eidi, where it will be joined by many other boats and be rowed back, forty kilometres between Streymoy and Esturoy, over the course of two days. There will be partying in Hósvik and the flotilla will arrive in Nolsoy the next day. It seems this is a regatta not a festival. Ove Joensens celebrated row from Copenhagen to Nolsoy was nine hundred miles.

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