08 October 2006


it was a very short ride across to iona, but we only had fifteen minutes to move the car and return to the ferry. lindsay flew up the hill to the car park and i proceeded with the cases to the queue for the ferry, composing a fantastic appeal to the ferryman to wait for lindsay. of course i didn’t need to use it. soon we were underway in the warmth of a cabin, arriving ready for fishnchips, a lager, and a good bed. iona is a much smaller island, and wild with history and ruggedness, thick with ancient meaning. the nights are dark against the sea, and even the morning was wetter and colder than usual. this all goes with the idea of something enduring millions of years, which left me suspended someplace between metaphor and actuality. oh wait. the smithy, of course.


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