A NORWEGIAN IN FOULA IN 1934

Three weeks ago the Lerwick yachting expedition to Norway in the summer of 1934 was recalled in connection with the story of Betty Mouat, whose principal rescuer was found in Aalesimd by Mr G H Kay and his yachting companions. On his return journey from Norway to Shetland, Mr Kay was accompanied by a Norwegian gentleman, Mr Einar Seim, who is one of the compilers of the dictionary of the Nynorsk language, which based on the old dialects, is competing with Dano-Norwegian as the national language of Norway. Mr Einar Seim paid a visit of a fortnight to Foula for the purpose of studying the remains of the old northern language there. We are much indebted to a correspondent for the following translation of an interesting article on his visit which Mr Seim contributed to the 1935 number of the Norwegian Christmas annual Jol a’ Suimfjord. The article was entitled “Ultima Thule”.

In the year 84 AD, the Roman Agricola was at the Orkneys. From there, he informs us, he was able to descry land on the northern horizon. That land he called Ultima Thule. From the Orkney islands of North Ronaldsay and Papa Westray, with good visibility one can see Foula like a bluish cloud on the horizon, and people in these western isles therefore held that “Fula” is the same as Ultima “Thule”. Obviously this theory does not agree with that of Joleik, viz that Thule is the same word as Fjaler (the name of a place in Sunnafjord, Norway). Foula is a remarkable island in more than one respect. For us Scandinavians it is most interesting by reason of the fact that the norse language lived long more norse words, and more norse traditions, than any other of those western isles. You may therefore think it not unreasonable that I should tell a little more of Fula and its folk than was practicable in “Jol a’ Sunnafjord” last year.

I sailed to Fula one day in last June in a fresh northerly breeze, with the blue sky overhead, over a salt-green sea that was breaking sharply. The big lugsail on the postboat was hoisted full mast high, the “traveller” being formed out of a twisted ram’s horn. The four Fula-men looked like Norwegian Viking farmers, and as for one I felt a Viking myself steering west to new and unknown lands. For me indeed it was an unknown land that was rising up out of the great western ocean, a new land, but all the same an old norse land. There it had lain hidden away and forgotten in ocean mists for half a millennium or more till now I was coming to discover it afresh.

When Hans Egede was planning to visit West-Greenland he believed he would find norse settlements, norse people and norse speech there. Steering west towards Fula I had the same conviction; Egede was disappointed but so was not I.

Fula is assuredly an appropriate name. As one approaches land one sees “fowl” everywhere, fowl on the sea, fowl on the crags, fowl on the lochs, fowl on the moors. And when I come to the house where I was to lodge, there was a skua sitting on the house-roof. A girl came out with hen’s food; when she shouted out “Alan” the skua took wing and was the first to reach the feeding-box.

Appropriate enough the name may be, but I would rather have called the island Utrost. Does not Hibbert indeed inform us that in former days people had another name for Foula – they called it Utri. Was that perhaps Utrost? Or Yfroy?

I felt at home in Fula at once, strange and unfamiliar as everything was. On a harvest or winter day, when storms bellow and the sea is mountainous, it may well be that ……………….. the woman-folk occupied with carding, spinning and knitting, the menfolk with their own affairs. At such times it is fortunate that the walls are dependable and windows small. Flakes of froth fly past like flocks of birds over the homefield, and the storm blows down even stone dykes. On such an evening it was that the cornstacks of the Breidfit-man were whirled by the storm right over Fula and out to sea on the north. Some of the sheaves were found later cast on the shores of the Mainland of Shetland.

What a thunderous uproar then goes on in the geos! Down in Kvinihol for instance, where even in the finest days the waves press in the air in front of them until it howls and whines in terror.

But in spring and summer Fula lies – a peaceful hallowed abode for man, bird and beast, in the bosom of the sea, of sky and of blue infinity. Day and night pass into one. Only in the holy midnight hour is the voice of the birds on sea and land silent. At early dawn the sun rises over the low Mainland hills in the east, and thereafter its course through the heavens is unbroken, until late in the evening it drops into the ocean out in the northwest.

Folk and fowl.

At that time of year everyone on Fula is busy – both folk and fowl. I often saw men working out in the fields between 11 and 11.30 at night. And long before I wakened in the morning the “bonksie” or big skua had been in the tarn under Hamnafell for its morning-bath. I frequently counted 100 bonksies there on that tiny loch.

The kittiwakes and lesser skuas (Richardson’s skua) wash in the lochs out towards Stremness, but the fulmar petrel and the other species of birds content themselves with a sea-bath down below the bird-rocks where they build and live.

Such bird-life I had never seen before. The first day I was there the lesser-skua (Richardson’s skua) scared me altogether ………………….. ed off, an inch or two above my head, whether I bend or walked upright. The bonksies followed the same procedure, but did not come quite so close.

On the north-side of Fula, the bird-cliffs – the Kame – fall sheer down 1200 feet into the ocean. Here are the right fowl crags, and here has many a Fula-man gone to his doom. Each farm (tun) had its own definite fowl-crag. Up on the top of the Kame the Fula-man drives down a stake into the earth – a “lesnin” as it is called. To this a rope is fastened, and over the “Noup” he goes to collect eggs or birds. 1200 feet below the mighty ocean breaks and roars against “da hords”, necks of rock along the coast, and in through all the holes and caves that have been hollowed out through the ages. But every ledge and terrace on the hill slope was densely packed with fowl. When they rose, it was like a cloud of birds - : puffins, and guillemots, solans and scarfs, gulls and fulmar petrels, terns and tysties. The fulmar petrels is however a newcomer to Shetland. Both on the Mainland and on Fula I was told that the first fulmar came to Shetland drifting on a dead whale some 70 years ago. Shetlanders are acquainted with Greenland from of old, from the days when Scottish vessels carried on the whale fishing in Davis Strait. So the tale they tell of the “malis” (mallemukes) may be true enough. Now, however, Shetland swarms with these birds - : even on the Knab at Lerwick there is a whole colony of them.

Fulaman and the cow.

Fulamen have been good climbers, it may be seen. Only one solitary person has ever achieved the feat of climbing up on the Holm of Noss – east of Lerwick, and that was a Fula-man. He had made a wager for a cow that he would do it. Up he climbed and got a line across to Noss so that a rope was hauled over and a cradle arranged to pass from Noss to the grass-rich Holm. By means of this cradle Noss men conveyed sheep to and from the Holm for a long time. But about Fo ………………………………. connection was destroyed. Since then, nothing “wingless” has set foot on Noss Holm. Today, the blackbacked gull lords and rules there in breeding time, amidst flowers and knee-deep grass. The bonksie was probably the only one which might been able to challenge the blackback and chase him away. But the bonksie prefers the upland heaths of Noss itself, and there he acts lord and master. There, they say, no fowl other than the eider duck gets leave to breed. Towards her the bonksie is “gallant”. But there is a certain policy in his gallantry - : to get eider down for his own nest.

Things went ill with the Fulaman however, when he came to climb down. He would not use the rope-cradle for he feared that by so doing he might be cheated out of his cow. So he set himself to climb down the same road climbed up – lost his footing and his cow as well.

Animal life.

The animals one noticed most on Fula were the seals, sheep and the wild rabbits. The first named of this were very numerous. If one went out on the slopes towards Selkie Geo on the north side of the island, one was always sure to find a group of these portly creatures down on the rocks below. Nor were they unduly shy. One day when I had a Fulaman along with me, 18 or 20 of them were lying down in a geo. My companion walked forward on the slope uttering some genuine Fula shouts, but the seals did not mind. Then he threw a stone at them. At that, most of them shifted, but others lay on never troubling themselves in the slightest. The green sea round the rocks was boiling with their commotion, and from the brow where I stood I could plainly follow them underwater. I asked the Fulaman if they did not shoot seals. No - they replied, they could get nothing for the skins. The full grown seal they call “selkie”, the young “cob”.

The sheep were of the old norse short-tailed variety, small and thin-legged. They were of many shadows ……………………… ces on the out-pasture the people have constructed “snow-buils” for them, with semi circular stone-wall for shelter. And nearer home, against the tun-dykes there were “kruies” – round stone shelters without roof or door, which the sheep could seek shelter in.

When I was there in the middle of June, the sheep were going still unrooed, and many of them had lost much wool. In consequence girls were going over the out-pastures picking up wool. That is called “henting”. Wool and knitting were now cheap, and so people did not bother so much over those tufts of wool. But the chief reason why the sheep were allowed to go so long with their winter fleece was probably this – that in spring they were so lean that people were afraid they would die in lambing time or while the lambs were small, if they were rooed earlier.

The new wool must also be well grown underneath if a sheep is to be rooed by hand without the use of shears. On the Mainland and on Papa Stour I saw afterwards that they roo sheep in the last day of June.

There were dogs which collected the sheep and herded them into “da kruies”. Wise brutes – these Shetland dogs. But here at home (in Norway) they could hardly be used, as the ground here is so steep and craggy : the sheep would be chased to death, I fear. In Shetland, according to Hibbert, in the darkest “Scottish” period the state of law was such that he who had the best sheepdog was the largest sheep-owner. No wonder that Shetlanders looked out for good sheep-dogs!

There were many sheep on Fula, but it was clean impossible to get out of any man how many sheep he possessed. There were “some”, “a lot” or anything similar. It would not be lucky to tell how many. Neither will a fisherman ever say how many fish he has caught. One must be cautious here in the world : here there is the evil eye, envy, trolldom and trickery wherever one turns. But it may also be the case that the people were uncertain of the number of their sheep owing simply to the ……………….……………………….

Elsewhere over there I saw plenty of rabbits also, but nowhere in such numbers as on Fula. One day when I had been at “Stjol in Heimtun” talking to the old people there, I sat down to rest by the stream when I went away and I counted the rabbits feeding on the cultivated field near the house. On that tiny little slope I counted no fewer than 25. Wherever you turned you saw their long ears. But if thoroughly scared, they were quick enough in reaching their holes. And to dislodge them from these holes nothing but a stoat would be of any avail, and there are no stoats in Fula.

One saw them everywhere – down at the sea-banks and up on the highest hills. Most were grey, but there were also some black. Fula-folk were sick of this pest. They ate up the grass from sheep and cattle, invaded the cabbage yards, destroyed growing crops and even gnawed their way into the corn-stacks in the harvest and winter nights.

Flowers.

Trees and shrubs one will seek in vain in Fula today. Tradition says that there was a wood in Efra Fendal in olden days, but that the Lewis-men burned it down on one of their raids to Fula. The Hebridean Gaels had indeed been hostile to norseman since the battle of Largs, and wished now to have revenge.

But there are numerous species of beautiful flowers, as well as good grass. Here in Norway the small blue bulbous plant Scilla Verna is notably rare. I have found it on Skorpa, and according to our Flora it is to be found in some few other places on the out-isles ere in Sunnfjord. But in Shetland, and especially on Fula, it grows in abundance. They call it “balderi”. Whether this name has anything to do with Balder I do not know – I do not find the word in Jakobsen. It is however a nornword, for in English the plant is termed either squill or “swinshush” (sic!) (Well, Miss Isbister told me so. I do not know whether this is the real …………………. ). But the kind of flower that is ……………………….. The stateliest wild flower was the large yellow iris, which they call “segg”. Along the boggy edges of fields and by the streams there were many of these plants growing. Animals do not eat them, so they grow purely for show and aesthetic pleasure.

The marsh marigold is another showy flower, though only a weed. This plant is called “blokk” or “blogga” – a norn term. There were also many kinds of flowers which I knew here at home. The Fula-women make use of many of them for dyeing, and most had norn names – akrabung, kattakeo, smorra, arvi, burra, meldi, gulsa-girse (jaundice grass), murrock, etc.

Drosta.

In the article I wrote in “Jol i Sunnfjord” last year I referred briefly to manner of living and food. Here I shall merely mention that I got one kind of food in Fula that I had never tasted before, but one that was certainly well known in the West of Norway a couple of generations ago. Perhaps it is still in use today in outlying valleys far from town – and coffee- culture.

One evening I was visiting one of my Fula-friends and sitting in “ the butt end” or kitchen writing down Norn words and riddles when the women asked me if I would taste a genuine Fula-dish “for jokla skab” (for fun). Of course I would. There upon I got a bowl of milk and a wooden plate (No, a “bordsk” will nowadays say just a plate, made of china as well of crockery. E.S.) with “burstin” (dried beremeal). I had then to mix the meal in the milk according to taste, and eat. They often used such food in Fula.

It then occurred to me that this probably was the same kind of food which was called “drosta” home in Nordhordland and about which I remember a local verse. A pedlar man came in to a woman in her house in the parish of Seim and wanted to buy some food. The woman sat down drosta – dried oatmeal mixed up in milk or water. As the pedlar sat looking at the dish the woman burst out - : “What’s wrong? Is the man daft? He doesn’t want to eat drosta!” This passed into a by-word afterwards, and only in that way had I ………………………. One can well imagine that in the very far back days, before the settlement out there in the west, and before it was usual to boil porridge for everyday use, drosta would have been a frequent meal. Dried fish and butter, dried flesh and drosta – such food is what one may term “rakost” (ready food). When in addition they drank whey, ale and codliver-oil, the Vikings might well indeed have been strong-stomached, whole-toothed and hardy. The dark brown oatcakes, full of husks and baked without yeast, which one still gets over there constitute a particularly good item in the menu. Its cleanness? Well, that consideration can be pushed too far. Soot or husks in moderate measure do no one any harm. On the contrary! What does Dr Hindhede say about all these clean but “ cleatery” foods people eat nowadays? “If you could look inside yourselves you would see that your stomachs resemble swine-troughs which are never cleansed”.

Day and daylight.

In regard to meals and mealtimes there was much diversity in former days : All depended on what was doing – especially in the fishing-time in spring and summer. At such times they would go a whole long spring or summer day without food.

One day when I was in Fula, my best friend, Doddy, went off in the morning with his tool basket to mend a house further south. I was knocking around all day and got home only between 11 and 11.30 at night. Doddy was then coming from his work. First we examined the contents of his tool basket – I wanted to know the names of all the tools. After that he took me into his workshop to show me a broken clay urn he had discovered at the depth of an “ell” in the earth when he was working in one of the cultivated fields. I could get some fragments of the vessel to take to Norway to see if perchance some antiquary there could find out its age. Then he went to tell me he had found a strange stone trough over on the slope above Sandvatn – it was lying there on a headrig still. go over and have a look at ……………………. trough, we had to discuss the different kinds of flowers growing there on the slope so that I might learn their Fula-names. And then there were the names of all the pieces of meadowland and arable land lying near. One of these was called Tingwall – whatever it was now. When we got home at last it was about 1 o’clock I think. Then Doddy said that he was “ a little hungry” for he had not had anything to eat since he went off to work in the morning. I thought it only natural that he should be empty inside then. As for sleep – that also was a secondary matter in these summerdays. Out there, with the open horizon all round, day and night almost merge into one. And at that time of year people had so much to do. Peats had to be cut, set up and built; the fields had to be cleaned; cabbage had to be lifted from the “Krubs” and planted in the kailyard; turnips had to be sown. And then there was the sea. Whenever opportunity offered, one had to go out and “ale after da pilticks” in the evenings when weather permitted. I asked one of my friends what time Fula-folk went to bed in the summer. “Never before da next day” he answered. That suited me also excellently, who had so much to ask people about, and only 14 days to do so.

Norn.

I knew previously that the norn speech had survived long in Fula, but I had no idea that such a mass of norn words would still be in use. Dr Jakobsen believed that the use of English in school would soon cause the remnants of Norn speech to disappear. And now it was 40 years since Dr Jacobsen was in Fula. Strangely enough, however, I managed to hear many Norn words which Jakobsen had not picked up. It sounds odd, but there are words and phrases used here in Sunnfjord which I did not fully understand till I went to Shetland. For example : in Dalsfjord they speak of having something “ i vonavare”. They said of a lad – “he has a girl ashore (………………… carefully translated into English. E. S.) What was meant by that I never rightly knew. But in Shetland they use exactly the same phrase : “to ha’e avonavara”, have in reserve. Also : “to go avonavara” – to go on a chance. O.N. “a von ok vara”.

I had a kind of hope that I might find some of the old sea-terms still in use in Fula. That too was the case – people remembered them alright, laughed a bit at some of them, but paid good heed to them nevertheless. At sea they call the minister “upstander”, the church “bonihus” (prayer-house), a woman “hustikk” (house bitch), the horse “gjonger” (gaug-er), the dog “beinibiter” (bone biter), the cat Fir-fother” (four-footer), A cow “drynja”, pig “bursi” or “simgi”, land “da Klomper”, boat “far”, sun “ glida” or “gloda”, moon “glonler”, halibut “gleida” (squinter), conger eel “sliki”, etc. It may be seen that these are old Norn “Kennings” or pheriphrases all through.

Some gaelic, scotch and dutch-german words have also been used as sea-words (tabu-terms). E.g. “skjan” for tully or knife, “frau” for a woman (instead of “hustikk”, “moia” and other Norn pet-names for a woman).

A thunderbolt.

One can learn of many things when one moves among the people in this way and gets well known. From the old folk at _ _ _ I got a thunderbolt which had dropped from the sky in a severe thunderstorm and hit Kodlifjell as it fell. Such a stone is a great treasure. That I knew before, but a still better realization of the fact came to me through this specimen of the _ _ _ folk. For one thing, thunder never strikes down on a house where they have such a thunderbolt (it is the thunderbolt that strikes down – not the lightning, according to the old folk). But it is a safeguard against many and many a thing also – against the Kraken and the sea-serpent, against trolldom and devilry and I know not all. They had two such thunderbolts at _ _ _ . I got the finest. How I could have been so shameless …………………… have the one themselves – for the safety of house and home and people and animals. To console me for the thunderbolt I didn’t get she gave me two pairs of spectacles – they must be 250 years old she said. A still finer thunderbolt than that I got from _ _ _ I saw afterwards in another house in Fula. That, however, I never once dared to ask for : the man who owned this treasure had it carefully rolled up in silk paper and well knew what a valuable thing it was. He had found it on Dorganes, the thunder had once struck down there.

Old Beliefs.

I know how many old beliefs and practices were associated with sea life and fishing at home in Sunnfjord in old days. If one could find so much surviving there, there must be many an old custom to be found in Fula also, where people have lived as in a world by themselves far from all modern trumpery. It is obvious that in 14 days one cannot get hold of very much, however cautious and cunning one is in one’s search. But I think I found out a good deal, and perceived there was more “in the bottom of the kist”.

There are some people to whom you must never give fish – they take your luck from you. But there are others you may get luck from if you give them something. This holds good specially in the case of a Sunday-born child. If there were such children, fishermen went long distances to them with fish, in order to get good luck at fishing. Such a gift they call “amos” (alms).

Some folk are good to meet. Of such it was said they had “a good cry” or “a good foot”. But there were others – especially some old women whom fishermen must be on their guard not to meet when on their way to the sea. Robbi, one of my Fula-friends, told me of an old man from Heimtun who was going to the sea one day. He had his boat in Ham on the northside. As he went trudging along with his “bodi” (fish-creel) on his back, he noticed one of these objectionable women sitting by the wayside ………………………… To meet cats when on one’s way to the sea was just about as bad as to meet “unlucky” women. On this account women liked to tease men and as it were transfer the responsibility for bad luck at fishing (if such should happen) over to the cat. When the men were on their way to the sea with the bodi “on their back,” the womenfolk liked to shout to them : “Katt i da bodi!” To that the fishermen could make no retort, for one must never speak on one’s way to the sea.

The first fish one gets in the new year must never be given away. The first of anything one gets in the house, whatever it is, one must never give away either. It would be to give away one’s luck.

If you go down to the ebb or the cliffs to gather limpets for bait you will have good luck in your fishing if you strike your hand to make it bleed so that the blood touches the bait. If such an accident does not happen you can help yourself – slap your hand against the rock”, as Robbi said.

When one gets the first fish aboard one must spit in its mouth. Spitting and “tui” generally speaking, you must not be sparing of. You spit on the bait, and when you throw out the snoods or the last of the line you must spit and say “tui”.

If a seal comes up alongside the boat and remains staring greedily – that is a bad sign. “What do you do then?” I asked. “Say tui, tui, go down”, answered Robbi.

If a fish raises its tail as it lies on the tilfer, there is hope of good luck that day. That means : “plenty of fish outside.”

A sea-breeze or “free wind” the Fula-men arranged for thus : they went to an earthfast stone, laid a silver penny on it (copper would not do) and then went three times round it sunwise, and three times round widder-shins. Meanwhile they signed to the wind from which airt it should blow. If at sea, they got a suitable breeze by scratching the mast. One could also stick “da tulli” – knife into the mast, but this should preferably be avoided – you might so easily get a storm. No one must whistle in a boat or on sea – that would bring …………………….. “noest gjeittens” or windy-stones. If you took these you would get hard weather.

When one bought a boat one had to take special notice of the appearance of the knots in the boards of which it was built. There was one kind of knots they termed “messfurin- knots” (misfortune knots). Such knots indicated that the boat would come by a mischance. (This corresponds to what fishermen in Sunnfjord call “gra (u) kvistar” : these indicate broken twigs or branches which have grown the wrong way – downwards. They show that the boat will “go down”.)

Another kind in Fula they call “windy knots”, and these indicate that the boat will constantly be involved in storm. But there was a third type which were called “fishing knots”. The thing, then, was to get a boat with plenty of these “fishing knots”, for these promised lucky fishing.

Fishermen must never show that they expect a good fishing. They must prepare the bait before leaving home. And when they return they must never take too big a tub for salting down so that it might appear that they expected more fish next time. Nor was it correct to tell how many fish one had caught. “There was a heap” or “we bleed a lot” (“me blodga honom souidt”) is the suitable answer when anyone is so foolish as to ask how the fishing went. (Bad translation for “me fakk no koke” ellr “me blodga honom sovidt”. E.S.).

After the Haddocks.

One day I went with a crew haddock-fishing. They used a long-line baited with limpets – two on each hook with the backsides together. Another boat came and prepared to fish alongside of us. Our men cast ugly glances and made signs to show me …………………………….. Then to be quick to take “da skjan”, or tully-knife, and stick it fast in the gunwal - : thus one could avert his ill-luck.

But best it was to see one of the men with a fish. At that he bit his teeth, puffed out his cheeks so that his eyes seemed to start out of his head – and pulled like fury. Why did he carry on so, I wanted to know. Oh, well – the old men always held their breath when they hailed. Yes, but when they hauled up fish from a depth of 50-60 fathoms? Oh, Well – then they were blue in their face when they got the fish over the gunwal – sometimes livid (kobla). We all laughed.

I began to whistle. No – such a thing must I never do on the sea. If I said something I was made to understand that such an expression one doesn’t use at sea. Not even “Yes” and “No” could once be used – at sea one should say “abidi-je” for “Yes” and “abidi-ne” for “no”! But young and ignorant folk had best be silent at sea – how readily might they not say “minister” for “upstander” for example, and ruin the fishing that day!

I formed a strong impression that the old Fula-men must have gone a long school before they became really good fishermen. And I began to understand how it was that Mainlanders even as late as two generations since had made an errand to Fula to learn Norn. It was really “sea-speech”, they sought.

Do you think these old fellows had no need to know anything? If they could waken up today and see how we go on, they would assuredly think we were more than half-crazy.

Come back again.

I had intended being eight days in Fula. I stayed fourteen. But then I had to leave. “You can come again” they said. “You are no “friend”, but just one of ourselves”. And then they would have me note that if I forgot anything behind when I went off it was a sign I would come back. That was an old and proved saying. – It was nice to be …………………………… Lerabakk began to sink out of sight, and only the war-memorial on Durganes stood out to show that there had once been folk on the island. Fula itself lay there like a giant beast swimming northwards.

But these last hours together with the Fula-men must be taken advantage of to the full. And I came now to realize that there was many a thing and much that I had forgotten to inquire about – one is always so wise afterwards. Here for example was Robbie on his way to Lerwick to marry. And I had forgotten to ask anything about wedding – not to speak of babies. I now learned that if one intended to marry it must be on a Thursday. Always a Thursday. On the one Thursday one must go to the girl’s father and ask his consent. – On the Sunday proclamation of banns take place, and next Thursday the wedding. Always a Thursday. One must believe that they were worshippers of the old heathen gods still. Mr Kay informs me in a letter that all country-weddings in Shetland take place on a Thursday – even most of those in Lerwick.

How annoying – all this that I had forgotten to inquire about! And now it would soon be too late. Never had Doddie thought of so many Norn words as in these last hours from Fula to Watsness and Vaila. A southerly breeze was blowing, and the tide also made a choppy sea. Sea spray ruined my pencillings, and I could feel how a salt-mask was “sturkening” on my face – just like a mask of plaster of Paris. I comforted myself with this thought, that if the writing were bad to read – worse even than the writing of lawyer Koss or pastor Evensen it would not be to interpret.

But one thing further I discovered. The last thing I noted down probably was an old good luck phrase used to bridal folk. When we reached Lerwick, I bade Robbie and his intended wife goodbye. As I wished to do this in the correct manner I used a phrase I had noted down. Why everyone in the car laughed ……………………….. fairly convinced me I shall return. Now then it will be seen whether the old saying is more reliable than were for instance the weather forecasts last summer.

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