Back from New York City, I have a mere three weeks before my next trip (this one, to Scotland!) The sole purpose of this excursion will be to visit St. Kilda, the far flung island off the north west coast of Scotland. 100 miles out, to be precise. In earlier blogs, I have written about St. Kilda (or let's give it its real Gaelic name of Hirta), but I have never made the twelve hour round trip. In 1930, the island was evacuated of its curiously old fashioned and isolated population.
Since then, the British government has incorporated the island into a missile tracking range, so same old, same imperialistic old.
I just feel there are stories out there waiting for me. The sailing has a two-day window and it is the last one of the year, so fingers crossed! A calm sea day in mid-September might be somewhat implausible for the outer Hebrides, but this is what we are asking for.
In the meantime, I have pledged to finish my re-write of Iona, the third and final book in my Veil Of Time series. Put the final dot on the final sentence and send it through the ether to my agent. I want to sell this book before the year is out - perhaps an even greater implausibility than the clear Scottish day in September I'm looking for. In my woe-begotten childhood, the adults used to say, "If you ask, you don't get." How's that for a piece of misled Christian upbringing?
But I am asking God or god or Goddess or my ancestors, any higher power that is listening that can kick in and take me into my Ubermensch self. Ubermenschlich, all things shall be well and all things shall be well. That's the very best of the Christian litany on. And if it's on offer, I'll take it.
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