3. Home is where the hearth is

Sent:    15 February 2007 21:02
From: Stokes, Fiona
Fwd: Home is where the hearth is.

Hello again!

The open fire here has become so much a part of our life - as I speak Mark is outside transforming the pine tree that came down in the gales, into a barrow load of firewood (and craft material for a couple in the village).  He says he needs to open up the logs so that the inner circles of the trunk - the 'heartwood' - is revealed.  Once its been left to season, the wood will burn most efficiently.  We have been using coal for the fire everyday, but now and again we have a novelty item to burn, just to see what its like - some peat, or some wood - (we still have no tv signal and old habits of gazing at something and daydreaming die hard!)  Having been in other peoples homes here, I think our consumption of coal is probably equal to the rest of the village!  I also feel somewhat guilty about what carbon emissions I'm releasing back into the atmosphere, but a real fire gives so much pleasure :o) 

We're both addicted to tending it, but Mark is the worst - the 'chimney-firestarter' as he became the other day.  It wasn’t so much the entire bucket of coal that went on the fire that did it, but more the way he drew it afterwards.  We aren't political people generally, but we do like a good broadsheet - the Telegraph is particularly a quality newspaper because it its wide enough to cover the whole fireplace and leave a gap at the bottom for the air.  This particular day, we had run out of the Telegraph, so Mark was using cardboard packing boxes from the lorry instead.  Part of his special routine of drawing also involves keeping the paper there long enough that it scorches in the middle, catches on fire and then gets sent up the chimney in a flurry of flames.  Fine with newspaper, but not so good with a packing box.  It was the chunks of burning cardboard raining down outside the sitting room window that first alerted us to the excess of the fire.  But then as chunks of burning soot started to rain back down into the fireplace, I thought perhaps we were in trouble.  From outside, through the floating ash, we could see that the chimney pot was a little more scorched than before, but there weren't the expected 3ft flames jumping out of it, so I relaxed.  Needless to say we've gone back to buying the broadsheets now, but as we only shop on one day it does mean we have lots of news at one point in the week, and nothing for the rest.

Stornoway's excellent pool

Friday has become our day of supermarkets and swimming.  It’s a lovely drive into Stornoway, but it takes 45 minutes (depending on who's driving of course….), so we only make it into town twice a week.  Thursday for playgroup when me and the boys are treated to a wonderful spread of home baking (chocolate brownies, vienese whirls, lemon sponge and shortbread shapes the first week!  Can you imagine!! If there was an M&S food on the island it would have some stiff competition!) and then Fridays for the whole family outing. 

This week we started what'll hopefully be a regular routine to get the boys ready for swimming lessons and had lunch at the sports centre!  Morris was in his element - there happened to be an over 60's aquarobics session going on in the main pool and the café looks out over the water.  We parked Morris in a high chair in front of the large windows and he was hooked!  20 or so elderly ladies gazing up at him and smiling and waving, he loved it!  From there we posted in some food and surveyed the rest of the surroundings which included a climbing wall. 
The sports centre seems to promote open and visible sporting, the café looks onto the pool and is next to the climbing area, so there's no room to be shy.  (The gym also looks out across the football fields and into someones flashy new kit-home across the way, but that’s probably by mistake rather than design.) 
The climbing wall was obviously a point of great interest for me and Mark- Mark believed it to be undergraded, whereas I thought it was just terribly small!  Perhaps it is my climbing style of elbows and bum out that made me survey it with caution, but then I realised, with the great outdoors being so great here, why bother going to the wall?? 

Road works - there will now be a lane in both directions

The road improvements from Ballalan to Lemreway alone have furthered crag climbing no end, with roads blasted through the 'Lewisian Gniess' to create some great looking slabs. And that’s before you get serious and start heading into the Harris mountains.  The only problem with climbing for us however is quite a fundamental one. It needs both of us…..and no children.  So for now, I have moved my attention to our canoes.  We live in the best place for bimbling about on the water, as the name 'South Lochs' implies….

Loch Odhairn - great for canoeing. Austin gets his first taste

We have just been offered the rental on a house fronting Loch Odhairn - perfect for evening canooing when the boys are in bed.  The owners want to do it up, for Mark to do the work, and for us to live in it while that goes on.  It sounds chaotic, and it needs some tidying up before we get in, but the view is just magnificient.  At the head of a sea loch, it looks all the way out accross the water, past the salmon farm, and out to Kebock head - a vast jut of headland that hasn’t changed for hundreds, maybe thousands, of years.  The first day we were here I felt something instantly for that bit of rock - not because I wanted to climb it, but just from the feeling of history....  The idea of being able to push out from the stone beach, and paddle across to look up at the headland, on a balmy summer evening - its worth putting up with no heating in the new house and a problem with the foundations (did I not mention the structural problems… rose tinted glasses I'm afraid). And the loch has visits from seals too!

So by the next blog, we might have a new address, instead of being at 10 Glen, Gravir, South Lochs Lewis HS2 9QY, we might be at 10 Gravir, South Lochs, Lewis HS2 9QX……spot the difference?

Bye for now
Fiona