There is no Wi-Fi in most of the house. I am here for thirty six hours alone with little data left on my phone. I am less stressed about this than when in Cornwall last year. It no longer seems to be such a pressing matter but merely an interlude and matter of money. I have struggled with Apple, need to take my MacBook in for attention but Aberdeen or Inverness are the closest places for me to go. My predilection for city life grows.

I have no comfy chair, no bed or duvet. All of those things I do have, of course, but no special place to sit where I might feel more secure or contented, no personal cosyness. I have no investment in this house but give thanks that I am not, after all, tending the dog for my two days alone. I am unsure how safe we would have been together, he has begun to worry me.

I pass a fire station, with fire engine, while out and wonder who tends it, wonder how many people are trained and ready and when it was last called out. I do not recall seeing one in Nolsoy, Faroe, yet the density of the houses was high and many were made from wood unlike the isolated, rendered breeze-block, structures here.

Down at Vasa Point, conflicting ocean currents and winds cause a maelstrom with a coastal strip of murky, cloudy water, more resonant of oceans at home than the usual clear seas of Orkney. Each time the waves crest and fall I think I see dark heads bobbing in the water but there are none, the constant wind blows small white crests and I watch them roll and break.

It is early evening, I look for this mornings otter but find him not. I watched him for a good ten minutes, lolloping through hummocky grass, moving from the small body of water, across the road towards the larger loch and noted the point where he disappeared from my view. I followed his path in the grass and found him playing in the loch, dolphin like, for some moments before he spotted me. He sat straight up, facing forwards, tail peeping out in front of him, gazed at me intently for perhaps ten seconds and then was gone, no more to be seen.

I have worn trainers all day today, you might think it has been dry but this has not been the case. Heavy rain has poured several times. I heard strong winds on waking and knew it to be a grey, heavy day until I opened my curtains and found brilliant sunshine.  I walked with Paulo the dog, in glorious sunshine, but ten minutes after our return, the rain began and thus the day has continued. Thelma and Paulo left on the lunchtime ferry and the rest of the day has been mine.

There is no need therefore for me to be sitting here in the car, with the wind buffeting and bouncing me around but it feels a cosy thing to do, to sit and write. For a while, I have been feeling somewhat lost. Sitting in my car feels like me space, my space, all mine. In reality, the whole house has become mine right through to Friday lunchtime but it is just a location, a building and an aloneness that I have not sought.

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