Never Let the Saucepan Boil Dry Chapter 7: Speak Well, Mean Well, Do Well

The job I had hoped for did not materialise. 2004 began slowly as my academic victories that meant so much did not immediately lead to any kind of success. I signed on at the Jobcentre again. I volunteered at the Highland Theological College, an institution based in Dingwall’s, Library. I sometimes went in with my Cromarty friend, who worked there in administration. I also did more voluntary work in Cromarty Library. If nothing else, being a qualified librarian made me a better online researcher. I had briefly looked at Christian internet dating websites the previous September, and in fact had my first such meeting in Aberdeen then. Despite relating well on the internet, in person it was very different. She was in a hurry to leave.

     Whatever my expectations on joining these sites, it became clear that some had much greater expectations than mine. Following another unsuccessful meeting with someone in Aberdeen, I heard from P in Quebec in April 2004. She initiated a contact, suggesting we had a lot in common. It certainly appeared so. She also liked reading a lot, and wrote poetry. She worked as a dietician, and stressed her Irish and Scottish roots. She had been married (twice) before. Within two weeks, there were obvious sparks. I had not previously considered a long-distance connection. It seemed refreshing to share my world, knowledge and background with someone else. I was drawn to her fragility and intelligence. I heard from her at least three times a day. It seemed we were building something together. She declared a distinct interest, which I reciprocated.

     However, I almost immediately fell foul of her ideals concerning relationships. I also came to know more of the enneagram, an ancient Eastern means of identifying personalities, adapted for the West, and of myself as a ‘type four’. This, I came to feel, was her true religion. She read me some of the alleged faults of the type four over the phone, and sent me a copy of the book so I could flagellate myself in my own time, and I often did. She spoke of our future intimacy in ways that now make her seem deluded, like a siren: promising a lot, with only shipwreck. It later seemed like a bluff or a smokescreen, built on so little. I should perhaps have heeded warning signs in some of the things she told me, even when things were going well. She always had a ‘logical’ rationale for her point of view. May was the most intense month. She appeared to object to our having any arguments at all, as something unusual. ‘This is the third time we’ve had this…’ she said over the phone.

     I did not go on holiday with my parents in June. She went on holiday to Nova Scotia, a 16-hour drive from her home, and I called her there. She criticised what she saw as faults in my behaviour to her as ‘pure unadulterated average four behaviour’. ‘Average’ is not that great, in enneagram terms. Throughout June, the initial closeness became very strained, and in itself a source of stress, as in trying to live up to what I thought we had first had. She did feed this mentality. She finally wrote us off in July.

     I should likely have accepted it as a clean break, but opted to come and visit her on her invitation. I also arranged to go on to my relatives in Alberta, in October. Without having met, I had been embraced as husband material, valued in words if not in deeds, and ultimately divorced. I was very unhappy over that weekend in July, but kept it from my parents.

     One of my musical heroes, Iain Bayne, the drummer in Runrig, had come to live in Cromarty with his family. I had my first chance to meet him that September, when he and his wife Rachel came for tea. I got him to sign some of my CDs. I had been offered a rare chance to use my library skills by the APC church in Inverness, turning a previously random collection into a more coherent library with the Dewey system. I enjoyed this work, especially the chance to do so alone, which took up most of September.

     I loved the autumns in Cromarty, the first serious rustlings of the trees in the garden come late August. I kept my bedroom window open as long as possible. I watched one of my favourite Doctor Who stories, The Awakening, with the dried leaves rattling in. I left on the 6th of October. I went down to Glasgow by train, having learned from 1997 and the lost luggage episode, then flying direct to Ottawa. I met P there, she was very bright and smiley. Her large house reminded me of my late Granny’s on Mill Street, Dingwall. She had very friendly dogs, Gaby and Morley, both named after Canadian authors. The cat was named after Emily Dickinson. The dogs had just had a new litter of puppies. I got on very well with her parents who lived close by, when I met them.

     The day before my birthday, we embarked on the planned trip to Amherst by car, enjoying this very much, even the long drive. We crossed the Canadian-US border early in the morning via Ontario, through Perth. New York State had noticeably better roads, and more bookshops. My 30th birthday in Amherst was a strikingly beautiful autumn day, and visiting Emily Dickinson’s grave just after breakfast was very special. We also saw around her house, now restored to how it was during her lifetime in the 1860s, and there were local bookshops aplenty. On the way back, we stopped at a second-hand bookshop in Vermont, where I was surprised to find a biography of Hugh Miller, Cromarty’s most famous son, as well as a 1960s edition of the Dewey schedules.

     P was at work the second week I was in Quebec. I was supposed to help B her brother on his book on their grandfather. I condensed one chapter he had done to a mere page, not feeling very sympathetic to more church controversies, having had enough of those in my own life. He was quite polite. B took me on a day out, with a trip to a museum and good food in Ottawa and Hull, followed by church Bible study in the evening. The next day, he sacked me as his editor. P had built up my involvement in his book as a means of my earning money, and I had agreed to this with checking or reading it first. Their parents had much the same books as mine did in their house. She seemed tired of the sight of me by the time I left. She took me back to the airport in Ottawa, and waved goodbye, on her way to a high school reunion. I was in a state, at the end of the expectations she had raised. I wept uncontrollably and tried to listen to a New Order song to make me feel more settled. Only the kindness of a passing sales woman made a difference. I flew over to Calgary in Alberta, where I enjoyed being back with the tried and true and familiar, my relatives, but felt rather numb throughout. I was not sure where I was with P. I still loved her, after all she had encouraged. I was struggling to adjust to what she appeared to want now, as just friends. I enjoyed my week in Alberta, the spectacular Lake Louise in Banff included, and returned home. I came back to where I was truly loved and cared for.

     I also returned to my ongoing job search. I had sent out CVs to employment agencies in January, and in November one in Dunfermline responded. I went down to Rosyth to attend an event which was described as ‘not an interview’. I agreed to a contract cataloguing job, to be based just outside Edinburgh, while living with my relatives in Perth. I was in a lot of pain over P, feeling I had failed her and me in our relationship. She reinforced this, saying I had a kind of self-centredness she found wearying. I broke contact with her the following March.

     I was pleased to have the chance to use my librarian qualification, and did my best at the location. At one point I processed 100 reports in a day, holding myself to high standards. My senior boss, who only rarely came over from Rosyth, assessed my work and felt it was below par. I found her somewhat harsh. I got up very early and spent up to three hours travelling each day. One colleague, Jacquie, was lovely to me. She stood up for me, gave me sweets, thinking I was lonely, and drove me back into town after work most days to catch the bus. I attended my first Runrig show in ten years, in Glasgow, January 2005. As always, I did my best at work, but this was still not deemed enough. I was demoted to a routine task not involving computers in February, then sacked the next day. I chose to serve out the week.

     I stayed on in Perth for a while, seeking work there. I started learning to drive. By May I had decided to return to my parents’. I took my first driving test, in an automatic, just before I left, and failed. I moved back to Cromarty, and moved out my things from Perth gradually. I arranged to resit on the 6th of June. I came back, watched ‘Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith’ in the cinema with Julian the night before. He took me on the dreaded Broxden roundabout, gateway to Glasgow, and showed me where I had gone wrong before. The next day, I passed. Irene got engaged in June, and I got my first car. I had always been advised to drive an automatic. I returned to undergraduate study with the OU, doing a course on ancient Athens in 2005. On holiday in St Andrews, I sketched outlines of Ionic, Doric and Corinthian columns on a paper towel during a picnic to explain them to my parents.  

     I started a placement at the Centre for Health Sciences at Raigmore Hospital campus in August. I related well to the staff. Kathleen was a fellow writer, who commiserated over my ordeal at my previous work regarding cataloguing. She was so kind. It was the best work placement I ever had, processing records to do with deleted books from their system, and disposing of them physically. It was the sort of work no-one else wanted. This unpaid and temporary placement lasted till November. I knew by then it was likely I was taking up work with Royal Mail. I started a week or so after finishing at the Centre.

     I had help for the first week as a delivery postman. The beginning of the second week was a nightmare. I coped well with the sorting, but was slow on my feet and struggled to deliver on time. John my recent placement supervisor, clearly knowledgeable on disability issues, thankfully intervened. He clearly impressed on my new boss the value and needs of disabled people, to the extent the latter was initially angry, but spouting equal opportunities jargon by the time John had finished. I had help again for the rest of my second week, and felt I had to resign, and served my notice.

     The Cromarty manse was great for Christmas, and special occasions. 2006 started cold and empty, and often lonely. My job situation made a mockery of my academic achievements, so long desired and hoped for. I sometimes got interviews for library assistant jobs, but never passed them. My sister’s wedding that April was a joyful occasion for the family.

     I had a significant triumph in passing a manual driving test in August 2006, also in Perth, after so many instructors had told me I would never do so. 2006 was the last summer for a few years with a heat that significantly bothered me. It was with relief I said farewell to it and started on a general Arts course with the OU in September, with a view to a named undergraduate degree this time. I continued writing. I started an OU course in 20th century literature in February 2007. My routine Perth visits kept me connected to young people’s music and culture through Julian. I met with Alan, an informal job advisor based at Alness, the other side of the Cromarty Firth. He recommended becoming an Associate Lecturer with the OU. Linked to this, I applied and was accepted for training in voluntary adult literacy work with the Council in September 2007. I enjoyed the training a lot, over six weeks. I acquired my first regular student from 2008.

     That year, I took an OU course on the Roman empire, and went to Italy with my parents in October, visiting Pisa and Florence. I was blown away by the richness of their art and architecture, and enjoyed pizzas and coffee. That December, I acquired a second BA with Honours from the OU, in Humanities with Classical Studies and Literature. In 2009, I graduated from it, again in Glasgow, and continued to study for its own sake.

     I took a six week placement at HTC in Dingwall in spring 2009, for both administrative and library work, though I no longer held hopes of getting work in the latter. By the end of the year, Kevin, my supervisor there, gave me news of a job going, to read course materials onto a digital recorder for Mike, a partially-sighted student. I was delighted at this prospect. I prepared to start in January 2010, ahead of start of the HTC’s second semester in February. I found I was very suited to it. I also continued to work hard with the OU, doing a creative writing course, and one in children’s literature, over 2009-10. Having had one poker-faced interview panel for librarian jobs after another ask me if I held the European Computer Driving Licence qualification, and having to say no, I set about getting it over 2009-10.  This required several resits, especially when the pass mark was 75%; I took and passed my final exam, the fifth attempt in MS Excel, in June and went straight down to a St Andrews holiday to a hero’s welcome from family.

     My niece Abbi was born in February 2010, nine days before my Great-Aunt Helen passed away, aged 89. Abbi’s tiny presence was there at the funeral, and unlike several family members, she did not cry. We knew 2010 was to be our last year in Cromarty, ahead of Dad’s retirement that November. That April, I made internet contact with D, a very bright, cultured American. I completed an Ordinary BSc with the OU in the summer, my third degree with them. I also took a correspondence course in writing books for children over the summer. We had my last birthday in Cromarty in October, out at the local restaurant Sutors’ Creek, thoroughly enjoyed. I watched my present of some Doctor Who DVDs, Planet of Fire and King’s Demons, revisiting happy memories from the early 1980s in and through them.

     With two weeks before our leaving date at the start of November, we heard of David Fraser through a church connection, and of his flats available. I remembered him as a student in my Dad’s church in the 1980s, when he and another sang a strange song during the autumn Young People’s Evening, advertising the virtues of ‘wild green Hairy Liquid’, among other things. I got a lot of help from Irene in assessing my needs and in dealing with David. I liked the flat in Culloden better than one in the Crown area of Inverness. My parents went to accommodation provided by the church, on the other side of Inverness. My new flat was everything I wanted and more, especially the loft which I was to make my study. I watched David Tennant’s final story as the Doctor at the end of October, my last night in Cromarty, and I too had come to the end of a special era. The town’s motto, ‘Speak well, mean well, do well’ applied, if nothing else, to my OU studies and my ongoing creative writing.