Surviving on a Remote Island in the UK

There was a drive just before we arrived in 2009, asking for people to consider settling on this remote island in the Shetland Islands, UK. A few people replied and for a while hope raised its head; that babies might be born and the school could remain open. At the time the population was around 48–52, rumours abound that if it went much lower the island might close; not true, but like all myth making in a small community, folks believed it.

Over the years the population rose and fell. At its peak it was just over 70, and now in 2023, we have a base level of 60 people and it doesn’t seem to dip below that figure. I guess it’s a desirable ‘get away’ from modern life. You might say that 60 people is an improvement, you could say that it shows a strong, well led community with drive and ambition to survive; you couldn’t be more wrong. We are currently in the midst of another mini exodus for various reasons… 6 households potentially on the move, that’s 10% of the island! Although not all are moving by choice; illness/old age are part of the reason, and we don’t currently have the facilities to deal with folks who need regular medical care or home help. With no island nurse and a doctor visit only once a month, we rely on paid First Responders.

This account is my experience of living among a divided people in decline, the fight for identity, power struggles and how fixating on a ‘hate figure’ brings together an island of toxic tongued in-fighting, arson, death threats, isolation and drama that would rival fiction.

What holds a small island community together (and what doesn’t)?

It’s certainly true of the island that a hate figure is the underlying glue for all who considered themselves ‘part of the community’. When we arrived it was a middle-aged couple who’d lived here over ten years. They ran a small farm/croft and originally had plans to plant crops to be harvested by the island folk; they had no takers (quelle surprise!). It took a long time to meet them as we’d given up our car in 2009 and by that point they had backed away from all island events. We knew of their existence only from bitter vitriol on everyone’s tongue. Apparently, some folks ‘wouldn’t piss on ‘em’ if they were on fire and some openly voiced something along the lines of:

‘Oh, if only they were gone, surely the island would spontaneously burst into flower!’

Strangely enough, people would still talk to them, laugh and have a joke, and in the next breath rip them to shreds. It was psychotically brutal to watch.

Well, they eventually left and the one that wouldn’t piss on ’em also left… What a surprise, no flowers, nothing happened. There remained a hate shaped hole and it needed a-filling for the love of God! I mean, for the sake of peace and harmony, of course… But the island has never experienced peace and harmony and I doubt ever will, it’s merely seventeenth century romanticism.

When we arrived here in 2009, I was offered a job teaching guitar at the only music shop on Shetland. I declined, needing a break plus we’d taken early retirement at this point. He asked where I was moving to, once told, he said:

There’s an awful lot of in-fighting there…

We didn’t really believe him, surely it couldn’t be that bad?

Approximately five years ago, a very desirable property on our island came on the market, formerly a lavish convent of sorts and a family of three bought it; they had big plans. The island breathed a sigh of relief, that once again they could renew their vows, that ‘hate’ would bring the island together! And boy, did that sentiment get pushed to the limits!

Someone attempted to burn down their barn.

A former bank robber stole from them (they had employed a man who misrepresented himself) and for all sorts of reasons, sometimes they were unlucky with other employees. This new family became infamous across Shetland, this ‘hate comradery’ gave folks a talking point when they island hopped and it remains so to this day, and the family still live here, in fact they run the local shop including the Post Office and a B+B.

Does this family deserve such hatred? I don’t think so. They aren’t saints, they have a history (none of our business but many people make it theirs) and often things didn’t always go to plan for them but if we were to examine the facts, we’d see that the general vile backstabbing was unwarranted. Most people were/are not affected by them. It is a sadly delusional community, yet without such a ‘figure-head’, it would seem that the island couldn’t be united.

The Natives

When we arrived in 2009, there were still a large proportion of ‘native’ residents that ran all aspects of island life, I experienced ‘matriarchal rule’ when offering to help at the hall (I wasn’t allowed to help, and by the way, what do you mean you don’t bake cakes?) Most of their psychological needs were met by the ‘elders’ of the island. Strangely enough, my husband and I were accepted very quickly by the natives; it was once said to me:

‘You’ve always been here.’

I was astounded by this and very happy to receive this blessing, as you can imagine! (and an invite to a Sunday dinner). I’m sure it’s because I used to host sing-a-longs on a Saturday night. Anyway, the lady who made the pronouncement died of cancer some years ago now. I have seen the majority of natives die, either of cancer (common for Shetland) or old age/illness; in fact, 10% of the island natives have died since 2009. The remaining natives are dwindling in number, often hanging on to some whimsical golden era, made partly manifest through clamp downs of new ideas from new folk, family strongholds of crofts, or often, plain bullying tactics:

What happens in ____ stays on _____. (Said by two native men to a male incomer)

My husband was once accused of ‘taking over the island’ when enquiring about the use and placement of an island webcam at the local development group, violence hung in the air, and it was made clear to him, in no uncertain terms, that perhaps he should leave. That was a sad day for my husband, who, at the time, had became more involved in the community. After that, he took a backseat and has never attended an island meeting since.

Newcomers.

The frequency with which people arrive, no sooner do they leave, this has a destabilising effect on the whole population, but even more so for the natives, who are as rare as the birds that the Twitchers flock to the island to see! The natives that once held their own at the ‘far too large for 60 people’ community hall are not anywhere to be seen on a Saturday night, I can only presume they’ve taken to drinking with each other in the comfort of the family homes.

For those like us, for various reasons, who intend to stay for the long haul, we feel more than ever that there is a great divide, it’s US and THEM. There’s even a pecking order, Native comradery is shown to those on a sliding scale depending how long you’ve endured the island. Me and my husband have a good relationship with most people here now, but I’m sure it’s because we do our own thing, it’s safer and less controversial and it makes it convivial to live here. This great divide isn’t visible to the tourist, who’ll gasp at the views and ask the usual probing questions, but us residents all know it, we all feel it. Long term feuds ending in death threats as recent as this year overshadow what seems on the surface to be a sleepy, tranquil community. Oh, don’t get me wrong, it IS peaceful and tranquil, only if you keep your head down and have nothing to do with the community events! It’s just too easy (and fun for some it seems) to make shit up about people!

Sometimes I stick my head above the parapet. I do so because I actually like people, regardless of what they might have said or done. I succumb regularly to the ideal of tolerance and good will to all, until I turn up to a meeting and find nothing has changed, the same people scorn others under their breath for being different or are just so badly behaved or narrow-minded it’s intolerable to be around them. And so, like frightened birds, we scatter in all directions, close our front doors and say nothing that could be misconstrued in any way.

Then there’s all this surface stuff. It’s almost an island requirement that all residents wave to each other when in their cars, if you don’t, ‘news’ is spread far and wide, and before you know it, you’ve committed a heinous crime of no return. The gossip mill is truly magnificent in its ugliness and the mark of a bored, toxic population. Classic soap operas have nothing on the level of drama that is spun by folks here, it’s very hard not to get sucked in if you choose to engage.

Some might say this is normal for any community, but people here seem to make an art of it. Someone attempted to poison people at an event run by the hate objects of the island, pink cleaning fluid had been squirted inside the sandwiches! A woman was blamed, she had started a ‘cake fridge’ at the ferry terminal, possible rivalry? But there was no proof that she did it, it all got out of hand as only it can on this island, causing her and her husband to leave. That was only a couple of years ago… You really can’t make it up!

It’s not just bad or petty behaviour but for many years, under a development group, this island was ‘sexed up’ and many people moved here under false impressions. It was sold as a dream island, a place to raise a family (only if you remember the 1950s!) I knew many teenagers who were so bored that one said he’d rather be in a prison cell than live here, at least there would be something going on. Luckily, the development group folded (only after a series of disastrous attempts to make the island better) and a more realistic version of the island was spun but it still left some of the kids isolated. The main Anderson High School was rebuilt on the mainland and the teenagers live a kind of boarding school existence, travelling home on the weekends and holidays to be with their family. But up to that age, life for a youngster, unless they enjoyed the great outdoors, could be very tedious. I suppose it’s the only time that Facebook might really be useful?

There are many more stories but I have to be careful how much I write, I don’t want to be sued or create more bad feeling if an islander reads it. It’s why I haven’t included the name of the island in the post, so search engines can’t find it and link it. It’s been an eye opener living here, made worse for me as I came here to heal from a past history of abuse in many forms and found myself on the receiving end of bullying and sent to ‘Coventry’. I know it’s because I’m different, I think differently, I don’t just accept what I’m told and have a strong sense of justice. People often act out if fear when faced with an ‘unknown’ but I really felt the sting because I naively didn’t expect it.

In 2017, I wrote a supernatural series about the island: ‘The AdderStane’ and the natives boycotted it (as much as they were able). I tried to advertise my books on the island and my posters would be removed, I never understood why. I made great pains to not point to anyone or any recent events on the island, it was all based on mythology, fictious island history mixed with superstition that exists across the whole of Shetland. I can only imagine that they didn’t want an incomer writing about the island, in fact, one person read it and stated:

I’m only reading it to see who’s in it…

This person has joined the ‘mafia’ native family and it seems was tasked to the job. I was pleased that the person couldn’t put my novel down but it did leave a residue of sadness, what had happened? The previous comment that ‘I’d always been here’ seemed soon forgotten, was I now viewed as a nuisance newcomer who’d overstepped the mark?

I’m sure you’re all wondering, why do me and my husband stay? For economic reasons. We receive a small pension and can just about afford to live here comfortably without needing to work and that’s worth a lot to us! We came here because we love the island and it more than pays us back with the wild winter storms, the cooler, yet beautiful summers (a gift that keeps on giving) and the knowledge that as bad and intolerable as it may become here, we can still shut our front door and have our own sanctuary to study, write and reach the rest of the world. I guess we’ve made peace with it all. When we go off island we long to be back again, that’s more than a concrete city can offer! I have to remind myself of this when I sometimes yearn for the anonymity of a ‘County Mall’ — to remind myself that as bad as it can get, I don’t feel alone:

‘Where everybody knows your name’

There’s a lot to be said for that! And people who have left have felt that same pull, that as bad as it could get, you are never a stranger, that time does heal some wounds and that as much as we won’t admit it, we are a community of sorts; albeit completely bonkers! However, if help is needed, someone always comes forward. I suppose we can’t ask or dream for more than that in a world coming apart at the seams, it shouldn’t seem so bad after all! It helps to live in the NOW… (I’m working on it!)

The video was created by myself and my husband, wanting to see the island from the sky, we captured for the first time, ancient brochs and the island beauty from a birds eye point of view. For more photos, videos, island anecdotes, visit our archived blog HERE.