Tobermory. We waved Dunc off as he climbed aboard SS Silurian for a week of research as part of the Teen Team of the Hebridean Whale and Dolphin Trust. It was a dream come true for him and the sight of his familiar figure striding into his future sent Bert and I lurching, blinded with emotion, into the Mishnish for a Guinness.
Meanwhile, Angus was having a lie in in our wee holiday cottage, not exactly thrilled at the prospect of a whole week of undiluted Mum and Dad, and slow internet into the bargain. The week went well despite this, there was a Munro to climb, mysterious Loch Ba for kayaking, Aros Castle and Iona. A remote food shack, Loch na Keal Meals, saved the day more than once with exceptional lentil soup as well as scallops caught by the cook’s uncle. A homemade sign hanging off a fence which we drove past on a daily basis, announced,
“Salen Bookshop open Tues and Fri 10.30 -12”.
On the last Friday Angus fancied another of his extended lie-ins after scaling Ben More, so Bert and I seized the opportunity to visit the bookshop. It was in a garage. At the far end sat a scholarly looking man, grey and whiskery in a holey jumper and corduroy trousers, surrounded by shelves of books. With cataloguing worthy of the Bodleian library, all books were respectfully placed in the right spot on the right shelf. Travel, cookery, classics, Danielle Steele, Scottish history, crime, it was all there, well thumbed and well travelled, available on Tuesdays and Fridays in Salen, Isle of Mull.
Bert found two history books. I didn’t see anything right away, but loved the shop and wanted to support it, so I looked along the many shelves and found “Writing Down the Bones - freeing the writer within” by Natalie Goldberg. We headed to the till and it was then that we saw the small sign, “ALL BOOKS FREE” beside a donation tin for the Red Cross.
Back at the cottage Angus was still asleep and we settled down to look at our books. My book was true to its title. Something grew that day. A wee shoot of an idea that I could be a writer. Natalie advised to “just write”. No problem if you think its rubbish. Get used to it, make it a practice.
Composting. Experiences are like the peelings and coffee grounds we put on the compost heap. We turn them over and over in our minds and notebooks until they become a suitable medium from which our stories can burst forth, like the green tips of the first snowdrops of spring.