But now Peter Maxwell Davies has moved to a new and somewhat larger premises on Sanday, almost the most northerly of the Orkneys, so the organ had to be moved too. I flew up to Aberdeen on a plane at about 7.00am, changing there to a smaller plane to fly onto Kirkwall where I hired a car and went to the house of good friends of PMD, the Bevans (for lunch and to pick up the keys), whom I last saw 15 years ago when the organ was delivered. From there the ferry to Hoy (through the Scapa Flow, of course - I was tempted to suppose that the word scuppered came from there and the simultaneous scuppering of the Imperial German Fleet there after WWI, but the word is 19th century or older) and on to Rackwick, an enjoyable drive as the visibility was good, and I even took some photographs of the dramatic scenery. I found Rackwick (I have only been there twice before, a long time ago and driven by somebody else) but as there are effectively only two or three roads on Hoy, you can't really go wrong. It was an enjoyable 35-minute drive.

At Rackwick I was met by Hutch who offered me a cup of tea. Hutch still has no mains electricity in his cottage, relying on gas cylinders for cooking, peat for heating and an old wind generator for low voltage electricity hooked up to batteries for his television, lighting and radio. From there up the steep hill between the sheep to PMD's cottage, opening the door, looking around, and then another trip for the blankets and tools. At that point the first (and only really major) problem presented itself. The key for the padlock to the outhouse was the wrong one. (Maybe it should be explained to our American cousins that an outhouse usually contains, as in this instance, what they euphemistically call a bathroom. I don't think that Americans will believe that most Brits over about 50 will remember outside loos only too well.) Anyway, nothing that could not become overcome with a screwdriver, the which I had of course - for the hasp of the padlock.