On not being an axe murderer. (Honest)

Kirkwall International Airport, Orkney

Hello, good weekend? Well I'm just back from one of my jaunts 'doon sooth' freshly landed earlier today at Kirkwall (international) Airport. The landing was a bit 'shoogly' (gently skaken), often with the cross winds up here you feel a bit like you've been tossed about like a nicely dressed salad in our wee planes, but the pilots are ace and well use to our climate. Anyway, mindful of 'our life not in the fast lane' when a lady appeared to be the only one who had missed out on a taxi, I asked her if she was heading into town. Often when folks land here, Kirkwall (our main town) is the first stop, its not like ALL roads lead to Kirkwall, but if non-resident, often Kirkwall is the first port of call.

 

Anyway, she was indeed Kirkwall bound and she seemed a bit bemused that a lift should be so quickly forthcoming from a stranger. I offered again, saying it was really no trouble, infact it was greener to share, I was heading through Kirkwall myself and I really wasn't an axe murderer, honest. Happy enough she accepted and off we set chatting about how different life here is to Edinburgh, where folks really don't tend to offer lifts to strangers. I guess we all have a different kind of normal. 

 

OK so when I turned to reverse and spied the axe sitting on the floor behind my seat I did think perhaps my 'I'm not an axe murderer, honest' speech seemed a bit overzealous. I mean how do you explain the presence of an axe in the car? OK, so my car was half full of wood chopped for the fire (I'd left in a rush) and a log sawing machine (see previous rushing comment), but an axe murderer I'm not. Thankfully it was dark and she didn't appear to notice.

 

So we commuted to town a bit greener and exchanged pleasantaries until we got to her hotel. I hope for her its a nice warm welcome to Orkney, if you can't be kind to strangers when at home, what's the point in life?

 

And, if I'm honest, it was the longest five minutes of my life.

 

Have you ever tried to stop yourself mentioning axes whilst chit-chatting to random newly met strangers? I figured the mention of axes twice in one evening might have been a bit much. Not the impression newly landed folks fae 'sooth' need of us island dwellers. The mantra in the car (in my head) was 'don't mention the axe', 'don't mention the axe', 'definitly don't mention the axe'. Axe chat in a car with a stranger is NOT cool. After all she didn't look the gardening type so probably not as versed in the need to carry random tools in the car as I was.

 

Unfortunately for her, there was only one mad island dwelling woman with an axe upon her goodself and strangers whom we've just given lifts too don't need to know that now do they?

 

I'd rather they thought we're a friendly (generally-non-axe-carrying-and-yielding) bunch.

 

Note to self - put axe in the garage, much cosier in there for it and less difficult to explain in court.