IT IS NOT ALWAYS EASY living on the Island in winter. Though, this is the time I reserve for doing a lot of my poetry writing when the bay is empty and the weekenders won't be back for two or three months, some days I can feel very shut in. It's the old story of one being quite comfortable in a room with the door shut, but as soon as its locked, feeling trapped.
Usually its problems with the car not going, but since I barged it over to the mechanic to fix, it's been great. This time its the road confining me - our local councillor has now come back to me with assurances it will be fixed in the near future, so I am still walking the hill - which seems to get steeper as the days get more wintry.
These are the days that I bless my reliable granny-trolley to bring up my groceries. Sometimes I am tempted to hang brightly coloured ribbons and bells off it, like some people do with bicycles, to show how much I value its work. But then, I wouldn't want to appear eccentric would I?