Waders and wet meadows.
I woke to the sound of gulls fighting over a fish. Possibly both herring. I lay still and let the sounds of the day come to me. Swallows chittered softly somewhere and house sparrows chattered to each other from the bushes in the garden below. There was a sharp rhythmic pinging sound as a rope slapped against a flagpole that proudly flew the flag of Orkney. Bright sun leaked around the edges of the blinds, even though it was only just gone 5 o’clock. Here, the tilt of the Earth brings early mornings and late evenings; there is no midnight sun, but the days of summer are long. Compared to the tram bustle and traffic drone of Melbourne, such sounds are a lullaby and I quickly fall back into sleep. Strangely, even the morning sounds of a place I have never visited before sound more familiar than the soundscape I have awoken to for more than 20 years. That may explain why my return to sleep was so rapid, so predictabl...