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After this weekend still stuck here, and himself's arrival and all too quick departure when he should have stayed longer, I am surer than I have ever been that it is time to leave this place, where I have been for 20 years - most of my adult life.

So much here is not what I thought it was, and the connections here are not what they should have been; and the friends are not what they should have been or what I thought they were. It's been a hard lesson to learn, and to come to terms with, this last couple of years. I have been very wrong in my perceptions of many things. I need to escape and leave all the ghosts here. I'm sick and tired of them and their constant presence; chasing me in neverending circles.

I hope I can find some peace, and some quiet, in amongst the huge landscapes and the weather and the sea. And forget all about the vexatious soundtrack that life has become here: the roar of the traffic, the pestilence of the drunks, the banging of doors, the constant shrieking of sirens, the thudding of so-called 'music' everywhere, and the filth of the streets....the rudeness, and the vanity that is just below the surface, everywhere. The greedy, lazy, corrupt and inept people that run the place; who are merely standing on the shoulders of previous giants and who do no good themselves.

The faster and faster slide into decline of a place I was once proud - fiercely proud - to be part of.

I am weary, and feel I have been robbed of any and all ability to appreciate what little good there actually is in this city. I am surrounded by some of the best that any Scottish city can offer - magnificent architecture, trees, rivers, parks, views, best of restaurants, pubs, theatre.... but I feel nothing about any of it. Nothing here moves me any more. I don't feel anything any more.

I don't know why on earth things got how they are. I need himself to help me out with some answers - or at least by listening to some questions - for it seems I've been deluding myself for a long long time. But he won't help. He's a queer creature altogether; emotionless. Uncomprehending. What a shock it has been.

So I'm going to have to get through whatever happens next, myself.

It'll be a sore test. I hope I've got it in me. Right now I can only hope I've got it in me, because I really am not sure if I actually do.


Reading these islanders' blogs of late have been a delight. Balm for the soul. Especially the blog by Hermit Life! What stunning writing; and what a wonderful, tranquil life. What I wouldn't give for some of that calm and that sureness, and that seeming simplicity of thought and clarity of perception. If there were ever a book to be forthcoming, I would be buying it, and it would have pride of place next to George Mackay Brown on the shelf.


I am not running away. I am running to something I should have done half a lifetime ago. I wish I'd been surer of myself. I wish I hadn't stayed here and trusted him, invested myself in him, to see things brought to these rags and tatters, and watch him walk away.

"...and she gathered the scattered sheets of manuscript together and tied them with the red ribbon that was a gift from the tinker lass..."