In the morning, as soon as it was light, Einar and his men set out to scour the Islands to see whether anyone had escaped. Although only one-eyed, Einar was well known as clear-sighted and said, “I don’t know what it is bobbing up and down over there. It’s either a bird or a man. Let’s go and find out.” There they found Halfdan Long-Leg and Einar had the ribs hacked from his spine with a sword and then his lungs pulled out through the slits in his back – A ‘blood-eagle’, sometimes seen as a ritual sacrifice by Vikings to Odin. Always one for composing poetry, Einar made a verse:

Happy am I, keen
heroes have spear-hacked,
bloodied the king’s boy:
brave the bold act
- but hard to hide
what a howling I’ve caused:
the corbie croaks
over carrion in Orkney

Seems like a nice man.

So how does our house come to bear his name?

One of the great things about Westray is that there is a sense of continuity. Families have lived here for many centuries and have a long folk memory. Some of that has been captured in The Buildings of Westray – Fae Quoy Tae Castle – An Orkney Island’s Snapshot in Time.
This details how the house was built in 1878 as the Eastside School, also known as the Skelwick Academy School and was used as a school until 1968. It was then bought by a couple, Johnny and Marina who renamed it Einor after the sports ‘house’ they were in at Kirkwall Grammar School. Hold on, Einor? That’s not how you spell Einar is it? I looked at the Ordnance Survey map of Westray and the house appears as Einor. Why was it advertised as being called Einar, I wondered. In fact it troubled me so much, I phoned the previous owner and asked why it was advertised as Einar and not Einor when that’s the name on the OS map? He said “Oh that’s my fault. I didn’t know how it was spelled.”

The grand romantic tale of how our house came to be called after one of the Earls of Orkney? It was mis-spelled.

I looked up the name and found that one of the best-known bearers of the name was Earl Einar, Earl of Orkney. A 10th Century Norseman. Einar was the tall, ugly, one-eyed, bastard son of Rögnvald Eysteinsson of Møre in Norway, the son of a slave concubine.

Earl Rögnvald of Møre had three sons by his wife: Hrolf, Ivar and Thorir the Silent and three sons by other women: Hallad, Hrollaug and Einar. Hrolf was so big that no horse could carry him and he went on to conquor Normandy and the Norman Kings of England were descended from him. Earl Rögnvald’s son Ivar was killed fighting vikings, so King Harald gave Earl Rögnvald Orkney and Shetland in compensation for his lost son.

Rögnvald heard that two Danish vikings, Thorir Tree-Beard and Kalf Scurvy had set up camp on the islands. According to the Orkneyinga Saga, he asked his sons which of them wanted the islands. In a beautiful set-piece verbatim piece of 1000 year old reportage, Thorir answered that the Earl himself should decide. To Hrollaug he said “You’re not destined for the Earldom, your fate will take you to Iceland.” Then Einar came forward and said “Do you want me to go to the islands? I can promise you the greatest favour you could wish for, and that’s never to have to see me again. There’s little enough here to hold me, and I don’t see myself as being any more of a failure elsewhere.”
Rögnvald replied, “Considering the kind of mother you have, slave-born on each side of her family, you’re not likely to make much of a ruler. But I agree: the sooner you leave and the later you return, the happier I’ll be.”

Einar was given a fully equipped ship of twenty benches and given the title of Earl. He sailed west to Shetland, gathered forces and then south to Orkney and killed Thorir Tree-Beard and Kalf Scurvy in battle. He took over the islands and became a great leader. With that kind of parenting, who can imagine his mentality.

As the psychologists say, “If it’s not your mum, it’s your dad.”

Wikipedia: Einar Rögnvaldarson, Torf-Einarr or Turf-Einar (fl. early 890s–920s) was one of the Norse Earls of Orkney. His rise to power is related in sagas which apparently draw on verses of Einar’s own composition for inspiration. After battling for control of the Northern Isles of Scotland, Einar founded a dynasty which retained control of the islands for centuries after his death.

The ferry from Westray to Orkney takes over an hour to make the journey to the Mainland of Orkney.

It’s easy for the visitor to get confused about places when talking to locals. ‘The Village’ means Pierowall. ‘The Island’ means Westray. ‘The Mainland’ doesn’t mean mainland Britain at all but the mainland of Orkney. Everywhere else is referred to as ‘South’. I’ve never heard the words Scotland or England mentioned once here. It’s always ‘South’ as in “He’s South working” or “She’s gone to university South”.

It’s sunny this afternoon, so it’s out into the garden to catch a rare photograph of the back of Einar in the sunshine.

When I first had the idea of spending time in Orkney one of the best and most honest sites I found was Moving to Orkney. It’s maintained by someone who moved to live on Westray so it’s very relevant.

Here’s an extract to show you the style:

We love it here; although even in the short time that we have been here we have seen people come and then go again. We have lots of family and friends that come to stay and they all love it, but after a couple of weeks quite a few of them say they “love it here, but wouldn’t want to live here”

Would you?

Whenever you look at property details in Orkney there’s one phrase that keeps on being repeated. Yes, the word ‘ruinous’ is used repeatedly. Sure, the phrase ‘in need of updating’ comes across loud and clear. However, it’s the phrase ‘a useful range of outbuildings’ which always draws my attention. It seems that even the smallest one bedroom cottage has cavernous barns, byres, sheds and workshops which form a useful range of outbuildings. So useful, in fact, that they are not being used for anything at the moment and ‘would be suitable for a number of different uses’.

Einar is just the same. Here are the modernised girls’ toilets from the time it was a school. How can I tell they were the girls’ toilets? Because the boys had three. Why did the boys have three and the girls two? I have no idea.

“Would you like some eggs?” our Westray neighbour asks. She’s very kind. She’s a real life faerie princess (“The UK’s leading exponent on Faeries”) and lectures on faeriecraft. How could I resist a gift so generously given? Later 18 eggs appear, beautifully dirty and odd sizes just like fresh eggs should be – as fresh as the day they were laid – literally.

The question is: how to eat them with no cooker? Well, there’s the steamer for boiled eggs (or rather steamed eggs) and then there’s the wonderful bread machine for, well, you know what it’s for. Challah is one of my favourite breads – a sweet, rich, dark crusted bread made with eggs and milk and decorated with poppy seeds. Perfect with rhubarb conserve. We’ve no poppy seeds – and I’m not going to be in when it starts to bake to brush it with beaten egg to give that deep coloured crust – and I haven’t got an oven to bake it in so can’t plait it into wonderful shapes – but at least it’ll taste the same straight from the machine. Here’s the result – a little bit bashed getting it out of the pan – but still, as my mum would say, “It’ll eat.” It smells divine.

Later I find out the full story. My neighbour had been asked, “Would you like some chickens,” and in accepting the generous gift got more than she bargained for. I feel I ought to pass the gift on, just like she has – from chicken to egg to bread. Now who is there to ask, “Would you like some fresh Challah?”

Accept a gift, make something of it and pass the gift on. Now that’s faeriecraft.

In the disabled parking area of the 124th Orkney County Show at Bignold Park I spot a fairy ring. I’m always distracted by fairy rings. I remember a trip to Edinburgh being especially interesting because of the wonderful views from high up on Arthur’s Seat – not because of the panoramic views of this stunning international city, nor of the glittering sun on the Firth of Forth, nor the brilliant architecture of the new Scottish Parliament building – but because of giant fairy rings visible on the meadows far below.

This one is only a few metres wide, but very visible with a lush green growth prompted by the mycelium of the fungus growing within the earth.

If there is anyone out there who classifies ‘fairy rings’ with ‘lawn diseases’, I just want you to know that you have no soul.

The making of traditional furniture has nearly died out in mainland Britain. There are few master craftsmen, little knowledge of natural materials and even fewer people with the knowledge or money to appreciate the joy a properly made piece of furniture can bring for generations. Orkney, however, is different. Here there is still a tradition of making Orkney furniture, in particular the Orkney chair.

The Orkney chair is a classic piece of improvised design which has persisted through generations because of its usefulness. Made of driftwood and with high sides stitched with oats, older chairs are highly valued now. In a classic textbook example of form follows function (the ‘form’ – what something looks like, should follow the ‘function’ – what it does) the Orkney chair triumphs. The Orkney chair is low – in order to avoid the smoke from heavy peat fires indoors. The Orkney chair is high backed, with high sides – in order to provide a screen from the draught inside the house. The Orkney chair often has storage under the seat – houses were small and furniture-making diverted time from feeding the family so everything had to earn its keep by having multiple functions.

At the Orkney County Fair it was reassuring to see a young man, Fraser Anderson, on his Orkney Hand Crafted Furniture stall with his wonderful array of modern interpretations of the traditional furniture. He’s not slavishly copying the old style designs but updating and reinterpreting them for modern life. There are bar stools, corner chairs and chairs with straw panels as well as the traditional men’s and ladies’ chairs. He’ll even make you a made-to-measure chair to suit your size. With no smoky peat fires, no draughts and more space, Frazer Anderson is taking the Orkney chair’s form to new places to follow its modern function. I wish him good luck and high sales.

I love workplace signs. There’s something about working in close quarters with people that can really wind you up. The office kitchen with the rabid messages about wiping up milk spills. The workplace canteen with the strident “These tables are self-clearing” messages (“I’d better leave my tray here then as it says that the tables clear themselves.”) The gents’ toilet with “We aim to please, will you aim too please” bolted to the door. Here’s a classic sign from Orkney Ferries. Now what would make someone go and laminate that?

Ponies and riders line up for the judging at the Orkney County Show.