Wyre Pierhead

A fine day oot with our pals Anne and Alastair.  None of us had been on the island of Wyre before.  The ferry goes from Tingwall (Orkney Mainland) to Rousay.  Then on to Egilsay and Wyre.  At Tingwall we had to wait an hour as the crew had their lunch break.  When the skipper of the MV Eynhallow went up the pier to go to his house, we recognised each other.  For he, Mr. Mainland, had been across at the Hoy dancing on Friday.    He asked where we were bound for.  When he heard it was Wyre he changed the timetable and decided to go to Egilsay after he had dropped us off.   Take away the archipelago you first thought of. 
 
Even local folk are unsure of the population of Wyre, but 18 was suggested.  During the time we spent on the island we didn’t see one biped, only quadrupeds (bovine and ovine).  Indeed the only sign of life was in the impressive Heritage Centre where we found eight pictures of Roy Plumley. 
 
We were so lucky on the way back to the Wyre Pier as it thundered but did not rain until we were on the ferry.    We weren’t invited to dine at the Captain’s table.
 
It is always best to be prepared.  Bernard informs me that Scullion has started rehearsing for the end of year panto.
 
Amphibians in ditches; falling rapidly.