Don’t we all?
The double T is not a misspelling, but refers to a village on Orkney. How can you not love a place that laughs in the face of the world’s sniggering.
We left Orkney via St. Margaret’s Hope and travelled by nippy catamaran ferry to the non-existent hamlet of Gills Bay, which is nothing more than a dock, on the Scottish mainland.
There began the drive along the eastern coast of Scotland, with a stop-off at John O’Groats to take a photo of the sign — well, you’ve got to, haven’t you? — and get a bite of lunch.
The drive down to Inverness was nice and relaxing, save for the few times I got stuck behind a Sunday driver and had to gnash my teeth while I waited for a safe stretch of road on which to overtake. It wasn’t until about 10 km outside of Inverness that I was treated to my first stretch of dual-carriageway since Glasgow.
Inverness feels huge after the last few weeks of island-hopping. With more than 50,000 inhabitants, it’s more than ten times the size of any town we’ve been to in recent times. It therefore feels big; very big; too big.
In Orkney, for example, a hot topic is that the supermarket chains are moving in, which spells problems for the small grocer, butcher, etc. People will vote with their wallet and the small, local shop will suffer and eventually disappear.
Even when I was growing up in what I was certain was the anus of the universe, Cornwall, that boat had sailed; or was, at least, faring out of port.
The wheels of time turn slowly on the western and northern isles of Scotland. The tale of the death of the grocer is being told only now. Unfortunately, we all know how the story ends. Although it’s only a matter of time, there’s some comfort to be had from the thought that the rot is not as advanced in some quarters. If you were on a sinking ship, you’d climb higher and higher in an effort to postpone the inevitable, no?
Orkney has no McDonalds, no Burger King, no KFC, no Starbucks and no Costa. There’s a Boots in Kirkwall, but that’s about it. There isn’t even an M & S. And yet, nothing is missing. Kirkwall is a lovely little town, with its beating heart still intact. Long may it remain that way. Fuck the trend of globalisation that is bringing about the reduction of the high streets of every European city to homogenised pulp.
Not that Inverness is without its own charm. The pedestrianised city centre is on the verge of surrendering its individuality, but the state of decay is such that, with a little imagination, one can still imagine how things might have looked before the mobile phone shops and other chain store decay took hold.
Further down, a walk along the banks of the Ness, the river that flows to the famous loch of the same name, is still a fine pursuit.
We’ll spend three nights in Inverness before embarking on the very long drive south to catch the ferry home from Newcastle or thereabouts.