I saw on FB that there was going to be a sheep auction. "Get there early!" the notice said! How early though? Definitely don't want to miss a moment! I walked to the livestock center at the edge of town and the further out I got, the less recognizeable the surroundings were as part of Britain. A theme we kept hearing is that Shetland is geographically, aesthetically, and culturally closer to Norway than mainland Scotland. No clans, tartans, or bagpipes. Shetland was part of Norway until the late 1400s when the King of Norway mortgaged it to pay his daughter's dowry, and he never managed to get it out of hock. The landscape's very different from Finland (the hill below would qualify as a vertiginous peak by Finnish standards) but the houses were very similar- vertical boards in primary colors, tile roof.

Didn't seem to be anything happening when I arrived at 7:45 so I asked when things were getting started. The girl at the cafeteria very kindly did not laugh at me when she said it would get going around 10.

I had a bacon sandwich and tea at the cafeteria and considered things. I could only linger for so long. I couldn't even eavesdrop. I'd been doing OK working out the accent, but sheep farmers were the final hurdle I failed to clear. I decided that other vistas lay ahead. On one hand, if I had been traveling with other people perhaps we would have somehow managed this situation more efficiently. On the other hand, if I had dragged another person up before sunrise to walk to a sheep center two hours early, I'm sure it would have impacted my relationship with said person negatively.

On the way back I stopped at Jamieson and Smith which is the big Shetland yarn manufacturer/retailer as far as I can see. Or not? There is another yarn company that is also called Jamieson's and this may or may not be the same company as Jamieson's Knitwear? In any case, the biggest deal seemed to be on yarn by the cone so I got about three sweaters' worth in neutral colors, plus some smaller skeins in random colors. I do not have the eye or mental math skills to work out how much I would need for making an elaborate multicolored Fair Isle so I just kind of grabbed stuff. At Jamieson's Knitwear I got T a sweater and tweed hat for his birthday. The solid gray sweater seemed like a little bit of a punt when the local specialty is aforementioned elaborate multicolored Fair Isle but I think for most people that degree of flair is something you really have to choose yourself. Fish and chips for lunch. Seagulls highly aware of me but not beach-level aggression.

Back in July I had opened the box office tab about 10 minutes before it launched. Amateur error! I was something like 595th in the queue to book classes. The only class I could get was thrummed socks (here is thrumming, where you stick little fluffy bits in your stitches so mittens, socks, or hats would have a fleecy interior). The class was maybe 80% Americans? Hearing them reminded me how happy I am to be temporarility in a country where I am oblivious to cues about who someone probably voted for.

Unfortunately, about 20 minutes in I got the notification that my boat home was canceled because of a storm, so I spent most of the class in the hallway figuring out how to get back to Aberdeen. And to be honest, if I come again I might just skip classes altogether? Some of the courses were very specific to the Shetland style of knitting. Mine...was taught by an instructor from Boston. But it was the first time that trip when I really sat down and knit, at least now I'll have these fuzzy socks.

Last item of the day was a concert at the museum. I got there early and hung out in a room that had been set up as the locus of Wool Week, and I wish I had spent more time there. People just sort of hung out with their projects, drank tea, put up notices about rides or swapping tickets, and chitchatted. I awkardly said "Love your work!" to someone I follow on Insta and if there is a way to do that without feeling like a weirdo pls LMK?

S and R were going also going to the concert so we met up and recapped our past 24 hours. Speculation on the extent to which our husbands had gone feral. I said I wished I could get home at a time when everyone else would be out, because I knew I would be unable to hide my reaction to the state the house would be in even though I felt very lucky that my husband had been nothing but enthusiastic about my expenditure of time and money on this trip. S is a retired relationship sex therapist. She and her husband now spend most of their time touring in their RV. She said it was important to let some things go. I knew she was right, and I knew it wasn't going to happen.*

The performance was led by a woman named Claire White who played the violin, told stories, and then sang songs she had written about the same stories. At one point S was among the brave souls who responded to the invitation to try a jig. She needed a partner and R wasn't having it so I jigged with her and that went about how you'd expect. Absolutely sheeting rain. Dinner, courtesy of the corner store, was a bag of Bombay Mix chevda poured into a bag of potato chips.

*Actually I got lucky and got back when they were asleep.