A nue-foo a clippins

Well, my first day in the Shetland Islands is already proving something of a challenge. When I arrived at 7.30 the weather was fantastic (see previous post). I checked into my youth hostel, dropped off all my stuff in the luggage store, and marched confidently out onto the harbour.

Then the weather changed snap! - like that - and I found myself getting drenched without a waterproof piece of clothing in sight. Five minutes later I was to seen cowering behind a slide in an empty children's playground, cradling a beautiful baked potato with chilli (no, I haven't got a picture).

The Shetland Islands are a scraggy bunch of rocks in the north-eastern reaches of the Atlantic. They aren't exactly sheltered (hence the changeable weather - apparently it snowed last week) and they aren't easily reached. A local poet, Rhoda Bulter, tried to describe the islands like this:

Sometimes I tink whin da Loard med da aert,
An He it aa pitten togidder,
Dan He still had a neu-foo a clippins left ower,
Trimmed aff o dis place or da tidder,
An He hedna hert to baal dem awa,
For dey lookit dat bonnier an rare,
Sae He fashioned da Isles fae da ends of da aert,
And med aa-body fin at hame dere.