35 and all is well.

Yesterday was my 35th birthday.
I can say it quite calmly.
In fact I have practiced saying it so that I can now get it out without it catching oddly in my throat. "I am thirty-five". Shane jokes that the reason we took this holiday was so that I wouldn't have time to dwell on my birthday, and another year being struck off of the calendar of my life.
I am quite ashamed of being ageist. In fact, ever since I learnt that there was a name for the condition, I have fought wildly against it, and have come to feel quite healthy, fit and strong...and happy about my age. After all, when I look back from my hundreds (you see, I plan to live to the age of 100), I will look back on my thirties as my infanthood. So much to still learn!
I have done some reflecting, however. Mostly on the outcomes to date, of this trip. You see, I thought that this would be a great time to develop some good habits, and work on eradicating some bad ones. For example, I thought this would be a great time for us to take responsibility for our Christian growth as a family - church would be irregular and fellowship fleeting, therefore, we would need to really get ourselves organised....what can I say, other than, HUMPH! Then there are behavious in the kids which I thought we would be able to work on. That was a silly idea really, but I just thought, we will all be together, all the time, so there will be no excuse for not pulling-up all of our socks.
I was also hoping that over the course of our trip, things would magically fall into place for me in the 'who-am-I-where-am-I-what-am-I" department. I say that a little tongue-in-cheek, and a little shamefacedly truthfully. I was reminded at the beginning of the year that when we ask 'Who am I' we are asking the wrong question. And there was evidence enough of that in my own life. We are to ask "Whose am I" and then it all begins to make sense. Problem is, that I know whose I am....I just don't feel peace about anything in particular.
Anyway, as this is a blog and not an online therapy session, I will share my conclusion. And that is...we are who we are. I am who I am. And happiness will not come by trying to change myself, but by learning to accept myself. Urgh. I hate the way that that sounds like something from a self-improvement book. But there you go. Who we were at home, is who we are on the road. Disappointing maybe, but a really interesting thing to learn.
If you are still with me by now....well done...I shall reward your patience with blogging about the trip, instead of my inner tumults.
We are now in the Okney Islands, staying in Stromness in one of the most lovely, homely hostels so far. We left Bonnar Bridge this morning where we had enjoyed the hopitality of Catriona's aunty, Morag, for the last two nights. Whilst there we visited Shin Falls, where we had the privelege of watching Salmon leaping up the falls. Amazing. The fish are programmed, at a certain time of the year to go up the river, from whence they came, to the breeding grounds. This in no mean feat, as you get a real appreciation of when you watch them try, and fail, to clear the water falls. Apparently the poor wee fellows are so exhausted by the time they make it to their destination, that they have only energy left to do the deed....then they die. I guess that might be a nice way to go....don't really know...can't speak on behalf of fish...
We had lunch there as a birthday treat for myself, and enjoyed looking at the Falls of Shin Shop, which is owned by Al Fahed, aka Harrod's fame. He has now sold Harrods, but continues to own this little shop in the middle of seemingly nowhere.
Our time in Cullen ended well. Lilli was taught to play chess by Ollie, the 12 year old son of the Hostel owners. He was a sweety, whose name was actually Owen, spelt the Welsh way, which is Alwyn. Very interesting, as Dad's middle name is Alwyn and he has never liked it - but perhaps if it had been pronounced 'Owen' he may have been fonder of it.
Before leaving Cullen, Eliza found a rock on the beach, covered with sparkling crustaceans of gold. We assured her and the other two, that it was highly unlikely that it would be gold, but we couldn't forsake it, just in case. Problem is, where does one find a geologist, or anyone, for that matter, who could tell us whether we had just found a rock which could pay for our holiday? Ta da! Bonner Bridge. Morag's son who was at home on our arrival is a Geologist! Good job Sandi! I only wish that you could have told us it was real gold, rather than fool's gold.
So - back to today. We drove to John O Groats, if for no other reason than it is a great name for a place, and is the furthermost town of mainland UK. We then drove west for a few miles, until reaching the port for the car ferry, which we caught across to the Orkneys.
From arrival we drove through Kirkwall, to Stromness, stopping on the way, for a gander at the Italian Chapel. This was a typical Nissan Hut, which was part of an Italian Prisoner of War camp during world war II. The Italian prisoners felt the need for somewhere to worship and they took this humble hut and made it into something beautiful. Now, all that is left of the rest of the camp is some stones in the grass, in a fenced off paddock, but the hut is beautifully preserved as the locals promised the prisoners it would be. In fact a team of artists came over from Italy some time ago to retouch the paintwork and keep it in tip top shape, as it has come to be an important place to the Italian people, as well as to the Orkadians. There is a masterfully carved face of Jesus in stone above the entrance, made by an Italian from one of the other camps (there were three separate camps on the Orkneys) whilst from within the camp near Saint Mary's, where the church was built, Dominichio Chiochetti took charge of the painting, and another man (who I apologise for not being able to name) took care of all of the wrought iron work. The end result is humbly beautiful. For the photo that was taken of the chapel on its completion, they hung a cardboard bell in the iron steeple, making all look complete and neat as a pin. In time that was replaced by a real one, from a ship in the area.
Tomorrow we are off to visit Skara Brae. Some of the oldest settlements of man, in all of Western Europe, are here, in the Orkney Islands. I can't wait to wander around them and see for myself, how people lived, before we started to record history. For all you Jean M. Auel fans out there - I reckon this will be how Ayla lived...soooooo interesting.
Tell you more when I know more.