We're half-past Hairst, waiting for winter, the Great Darkness descending. Beyond 60 degrees north, it's a battle now for light and warmth. Our household's carbon neutrality is, to say the least, questionable.
Here we run, to quote those surprise musical superstars of the Western Isles, on peat and diesel, with in our case some shameful bags of coal, a tank of kerosene and petrol for the generator. Power cuts are inevitable, and it won't be the Russians cutting cables. Unless they've been channeling those Siberian winds all along.
Guilt, yes, as I trundle the turbodiesel Toyota truck to check out footpath provision 15 miles away in Voe. But even the electric bike is no match for a Shetland headwind. It may be calm now, but wait half an hour.
As a local councillor the main (some would say the only) job satisfaction comes from helping individual constituents with council related problems. In this case, replacing crash barriers appears to have blocked a pedestrian right of way. A site visit with concerned residents and Shetland's excellent Outdoor Access Officer illustrates just how much danger pedestrians have been left in. I promise action will ensue. And if it doesn't, well. There's always journalism
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It's been quite an active week. A Council of Darkness education committee meeting avoided voting to extend free school meals to either all pupils or even to all primary bairns, opting instead for an incomprehensible increase to free food eligibility and clothing allowances. Some of my fellow councillors appear to see stigmatising the poor as a price worth paying. Three and a half hours of that, then two on Development, where consultation by Post-It Note was heartily approved and the remilitarisation (bring on the nukes!) of Unst shrugged off for the sake of filthy lucre and spurious space fantasies. Sue Grey, (that Sue Grey, the Boris-bashing super-civil-servant and country'n'Irish fan) visited the other week, rubber stamping what has often seemed like a done defence deal. Conveniently ignoring the fact that the Saxa Vord launch site,Tracey Island North, does not even have a licence to operate, and that a public Civil Aviation Authority consultation on that only began on Thursday.
At least I was able to participate remotely using Microsoft Teams, which means (1) I hopefully won't get Covid again and (2) I could feed Bad Brad the straying sheepdog, who interrupted proceedings with his piteously unignorable howls. (3) I didn't have to burn more heavy oil on travel to Lerwick, and claim the consequent expenses. And (4) I can walk around, the house, make faces and shout abuse with microphone muted and camera off.
Committees. Meetings: talking shops where, in the name of village democracy, grandstanding and pontification waltz with wilful ignorance. And that's just me. And in apolitical, party-immune Shetland, the Supreme Soviet, the Policy and Resources committee, will probably ignore some lesser groups' decisions. Because They Know Best. Being supreme, and all that.
(The funniest and curiously, most disturbing item raised at the education committee cannot be discussed here because it was deemed 'exempt'; anyone pondering it in public will be condemned to a month's pitch and putt practice on Papa Stour)
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It's publication week for my new book 'Holy Waters, Searching for the Sacred in a Glass'. Initial reception has been generous and extremely gratifying, but as the book was finished last December I'm trying to remember what's in it ahead of the launch gig a week on Friday: Religion and alcohol, an entertaining global review, basically. With recommended drams, tasting notes, personal memories of Old Tawny gospel hall communion wine and how to fall off a motorbike when pursuing St Columba in Ireland. At a distillery. This Friday saw a special two hour Bought Begged and Stolen radio show going out via 60N Radio and Mixcloud on the Holy Waters/alcohol/God theme. Remarkable numbers of rock songs deal with these concerns. Why? God Only Knows
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Friday also took me and fellow North Dark Ward councillor Emma to Brae High School to talk to the team behind the Anchor for Families project. Part of something extremely worthwhile being done by an excellent council team: namely, setting up hubs to help families hit by the cost of living crisis, but integrating the help available with schools. There’s a careful, stigma-free ability to identify families in need and offer help, and that runs to a lot more than just free school meals and warm clothing. There are breakfast clubs, warm spaces for children and adults to use, gatherings for families to help increase skills in things like cooking, IT, and offering emotional support. I was both impressed and proud of the staff at Children’s Services and Education. Then I woke up on Saturday to find that the Shetland Community Benefit Fund, formed to administer compensation cash from the Viking Windfarm, had refused to help Anchor as it preferred to give money to community councils. Who in my experience don't really know what to do with it. Meanwhile, children go cold and hungry.
It was interesting to hear just how badly Brae needs a new school, and not just repairs or upgrades to the old primary and secondary buildings. There are serious structural and administrative issues and somehow, the money must be found. (Full disclosure: three of my children went to Brae High School).
I had another Council of Darkness Teams meeting this week, this time one of these blasted/blessed 'members seminars' at which councillors pretend they know what senior management are doing, and senior management pretend it matters what councillors think. Present was a man from Enquest who (for the moment) run the giant-but-shrinking Sullom Voe oil terminal just down the road, and (maybe) want to turn it into a wind-powered producer of Hindenburg-inflating hydrogen, festoon any Zetlandic land they can get with wind generators and bury Co2 in the rest of it. While cutting costs and shipping in as much oil and gas possible, obviously. They want to make money, in other words. From another Russian nuclear target, or one which can be partially neutralised by blowing up its network of undersea gas and oil pipelines. Not that the Russians would ever do such a thing…
Ah well. Boom, shake the room as DJ Jazzy Jeff said. Of course, a full-on Putin atomic strike will have to wait until the wind's in the right direction.
So probably not this extremely stormy week. We live in hopelessness. Next week's Council of Darkness topics appear to include whether or not Fair Isle should be refloated and anchored nearer Orkney, further away from Armageddon Unst. That would be an ecumenical matter. Or at least, one for the National Trust, who own Fair Isle, and all who sail in her.
After all, it's not as dark down there off North Ronaldsay, in the deep and mysterious south.
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As an early retired NHS mental health escapee , I often wonder how many hours in total of meetings workshops and development days I had to endure and what I actually learnend from them .
Apart from learning that I loathed meetings workshops and development days obviously .
Thanks for the laugh this morning. Husband and I are both ex council workers (not Shetland or management!) , retired. This nonsense seriously has been going on for decades. The money wasted in meetings that achieve nothing is appalling. We shout at the TV when someone says Councils are underfunded. But we laugh a lot - what else can you do?