Island demographics

Our move to the Outer Hebrides in 2006 was met with some unexpected comments from our family in friends. The words 'Crazy' and 'La-la Land' were actually used, which has always surprised me. It was an easy move for us, so I was surprised to see how alien it seemed to people close to us.

Our, seemingly bold, move was validated however in 2013 when a series of articles came out in the national press, claiming the Hebrideans to be the happiest and most content people in all of the UK.

The Office of National Statistics claimed of well being in 2012/13, that Outer Hebrides and Shetland had:

• The highest levels of life satisfaction, self worth and happiness.
• The second lowest average rating of anxiety
• The highest proportion of people rating their happiness as 9 or 10 out of 10.

So the million dollar question is, what is it that makes the 27,684 people of the Outer Hebrides so much better off?

I can only answer for myself and it is an interconnected weave of many factors, but here are a few of my favourite reasons.

Kershader & Loch Erisort

The scenery
It's not that it is a verdent lush garden - my mother described Lewis as 'bleak' because she is used to the preened and coiffeured patchwork fields of the home counties of England.  But you can see the beautiful landcsape from a different perspective here.  There is nothing to get in the way of a good view.  The weather lights the hillside in a constantly changing cinematic experience.  You are looking at the land as a whole, not just a small tamed part of it.  And there is something about this that makes you feel special.

The people
Like the Lewis accent, which is lilting and musical, the people are not brash or forceful.  They are strong, because the elements can throw a storm at them at any time and they need to be constantly prepared. The Presbyterian church has a huge influence still and this Christianity was a welcome relief for me, coming from an impersonal city.  Even though we are not church goers, we are still included as a part of the community. We have become a part of the landscape and been accepted, simply by our durability.
It's great to be part of a crowd, as any of the many other incomers will agree.

Traditional croft house in winter

The lack of disparity
I think the the main horror that the family and friends we left behind on the mainland could not come to terms with, is that we do without a lot of the moneterial things that people rely on elsewhere. We live quite hand to mouth, don't buy many clothes, have no pension and no holidays abroad.  But the things we lack are not constantly paraded in front on us by our neighbours here. If people are doing well, they may have a slighter bigger and neater house, but not the huge mansions and latest model cars that people in well off areas on the mainland have.  The difference between rich and poor is much less noticeable, which makes me feel that the world is a fairer more equal place.  

I don't know if these are sentiments shared with the rest of the Outer Hebrides, but it was no surprise to read about our shared well being in the national press last year.  It had been just a feeling, but now it is backed up by data I can assure my family and friends that we are no crazier than the rest of them.

Robbing Peter to pay Paul

Morris has been working on a project for the last few weeks - well, its been a more longer term project than that, but the pace has quickened just lately. He has a collection of wobbly teeth and this weekend it was crunch time for the top front ones.

The teeth at the side of the two front ones have been slowly moving aside to make way for the new teeth. What started a little while ago as a slight gap to one side, had by Friday become a whole tooth sized gap, but without actually losing any teeth. Then after intervention by both parents, but to no avail, one was succesfully removed by a slice of chocolate orange.

Gruesome gums

 
Living on a remote Scottish island is always tricky when it comes to a visit from the tooth fairy.  Its not that she doesn't know how to get to us, or that she misses the ferry, its more that she often doesn't carry the correct loose change to pay her dues.  She has even been known to leave an IOU, but sadly that time it marked the end of the 'willing suspension of disbelief' for my oldest son Austin. 
Morris on the other hand is still a believer and it was imperative that the tooth fairy pay up on time.

I managed to get to the shop accross the road in time to get some cashback, but while I was there, distracted by the vast array of consumables and tourist-gold, I forgot to get it changed into loose change. And so it was at 5.30 on a Saturday and past closing, that I realised I was either destined to pay £10 for a single tooth, or fail.... again.... unless....

Like a mother with no conscience I struck on a plan. Once both boys were asleep, having safely tucked the tooth under his pillow, I ransacked Morrises piggy bank for a single gold coin.  Saved!

The next morning he happily stretched his arms out under his pillow and found his prize.  That important memory had been forged and all I had to do was make sure he didn't go counting his money before Monday.

All seemed well for the day, we talked about how the gum felt squishy and eating was different, we took the obligatory photo and admired the coin.  It was only when the boys were having a bit of a tussle upstairs that, waddya know, the other tooth popped out.

Its a Sunday and no shops are open on Lewis on the Sabbath!

Needing a pair of falsies

The thing about deception, is that when you have done it once and its worked, it is just so easy to do it again.

I waited until they were both asleep that night, again I snuck in and prized open his piggy bank, found the coin, swapped it for the tooth and stole away, having robbed Peter to pay Paul.

I am lucky that Morris is not a counter of his money, like Austin is. Monday came, two shiney pound coins were put into his money tin and he is none the wiser. Of course I had to confess my deception to Mark, though only once it had been completely succesfully, then I was guaranteed a congratulation for my cleverness rather than a scolding for being a rubbish parent.

And so life goes on. The tooth fairy still lives, Morris can enjoy the new feeling of sucking his top lip in over his empty gums and I can breathe a sigh of relief knowing that I have upheld the illusion of magic, for just a precious while longer.