Life on a tiny remote island in the Orkneys

When I think back to how I used to sit in my office dreaming of the day I would "escape" from so-called civilisation and begin a life where the quirks of Mother Nature and her unpredictable daughter Weather would be the most pressing challenges for me to face, I doubt that it occurred to me just how very quirky the old girl would prove to be.

Perhaps , had we not chosen the vast contrast of a move from Central London to a tiny island in the Orkneys, with five years in the Cairngorm Mountains as a kind of ice-breaker (quite literally, most of the time!), the schizophrenic character of the elements would not have been so apparent. From the mild-mannered, mostly polite but , let's face it, rather boring mutterings of the weather in the southern half of the UK, we find ourselves wearing metaphorical earplugs in an attempt to stifle the wild rant which she only seems to feel free to give full voice to in the remotest parts of the world.

We arrived here on the island of Sanday in 2004, having bought a traditional small farm of 24 acres which hasn't been worked for the best part of 40 years. We were full of plans, energy and enthusiasm, but little real experience. Until we took over, the land here was tenanted by our nearest neighbour, an Orcadian with a fount of farming wisdom and seemingly endless patience. I think that we may have gone some way towards repaying his hours of advice and practical help by providing him with some hilarious sights as we attempted to tackle many a task that was new to us, but in the typical Orkney way, Ian would merely raise one eyebrow ever so slightly and tactfully utter "Aye, weel ah've no seen it done that way afore" or "put me in an office and ye'd likely have a rare laugh at me too."

Ferry-loupers The native islanders here are truly good people, very unassuming and tolerant towards us "ferry-loupers" (a term which encompasses anyone settling on the island from anywhere). There is a long history of invasion and settlement throughout Orkney and I think this goes some way towards explaining the acceptance that we have met with since we arrived here. One of the most satisfying aspects of our life here is the feeling that we are continuing a way of life on this homestead that hasn't changed much for a couple of hundred years, and this land has been occupied by farming and fishing people for thousands of years. Our house and land are situated on a Treb dyke, which is a bronze age settlement boundary, and the sense of history is almost palpable as you work outside. The islands themselves abound with ancient archaeological sites, with most farms sited upon mounds - not hills, but the accumulation of debris from many former habitations, with the new farm simply being built upon the remains of the last.

Here on Sanday, we are generally about a month or two behind the rest of the country in most farming and gardening matters, and by May our ewes will have presented us with the last of their lambs and hopefully the weather will be mild enough for them all to get outside. We hope to avoid the mistakes we made during last year's lambing - particularly overfeeding the ewes which caused them to have enormous lambs requiring lots of assistance at lambing. Also we have not put our geriatric ewe to the ram this year because, although she was the best mum of the whole flock, her poor old udder has given in to gravity's pull and , when full of milk, trails along the ground. We did come up with some quite marvellous contraptions to support her udder and enable her lambs to feed, but I think it's time she retired and spent her twilight years babysitting for the others.

Varoa and TB-free This month, I may be lucky enough to find the soil temperature is warm enough to plant out my vegetable seedlings, and hope to have most things in the ground by the end of the month. The soil here is amazingly fertile and plants do grow extremely well, so long as you can get them good and sturdy before they go out. It is very tempting to be too hasty during good early spring weather, but it is seldom that it remains good enough for long enough to get anything to survive. May should also see the bees beginning to emerge and head for the fuchsia hedges that border the garden and grow so well among these islands. Last year was a complete disaster as far as honey production went, with such strong winds and low temperatures that the poor bees struggled to make much at all. We are lucky in Orkney to be free of the Varoa mite, and no bees at all are brought in from outside the County. Orkney is also TB-free, and with the stringent testing procedures in place for cattle bought in from outside, should remain so.

As I write this , the wind is screaming around the house and the rain hammering down. It is 3.30pm and already dark. Rosie the Guernsey cow and her calf Frog are settled snugly into their byre, as are the goats and the horse. The ewes are hunkered down against a stone dyke and the chickens, ducks and geese went to bed ages ago. The bees have barely poked their wee noses out of the hives since late last summer and the dogs and cats are competing for space in front of the fire. We humans are having a brief respite before the next round of checking, feeding and milking. Despite the almost constant battle with the elements, this is a remarkable and unique place to live. With the summer just around the corner (hopefully), we are feeling freshly invigorated and looking forward to the long days ahead when the sun doesn't set until the early hours of the morning - really the land of the midnight sun.

We CAN make a life here So, here we are nearly two years later looking ten years older but fairly pleased with what we've achieved so far. We've re-built dykes and put up fences, laid hedges, ploughed and re-seeded, cut hay successfully during the worst summer since 1968 (according to our "Man From The Ministry"), bought and lambed our first flock of sheep, accumulated an awful lot of very old and very rusty machinery, all of which has proved surprisingly serviceable; we have, by some miracle, been able to grow enough in the vegetable plot to supply us with most of our needs and the best thing of all, as far as I'm concerned, got hold of the finest milking goat and the most beautiful and biddable Guernsey house cow you could hope for, enabling me to fulfil my long-standing ambition to make our own cheese and butter.

Although Orkney can be a harsh and inhospitable place to settle, and despite the fact that we haven't seen any prolonged good weather since approximately last June, we are optimistic that we can make a life and modest living here - very modest - but our needs are simple and the most valuable aspect of life here is that I feel really alive and in touch with nature, at her best and worst, in a way that just wasn't possible living and working in the city.

Some useful contact details for anyone wishing to know more about (or move to!) Orkney: Sanday Tourism Association: www.sandayorkney.co.uk www.visitorkney.com / Tel. 01856 872001 Drever & Heddle Estate Agents: 01856 872216 Lows Estate Agents: www.lowsorkney.co.uk