Muddy Bay Diaries (5)

So where were we...

Saturday daytime
The big event on the Saturday morning was not the seals, but my talk. I was up directly before lunch, which apparently is a good slot. I had prepared 20 minutes as Brian had originally instructed, although it would probably turn out 25 anyway, and then padded a bit when Brian gave me 50 minutes for talk and questions. I just seemed to keep on yapping, and I must have talked for about 40 minutes. Quite ridiculous really. Throughout the talk I kept glancing at Brian, whose work I’ve been using, and Doreen who was one of my supervisors, but they didn’t have any noticeable facial expressions. Not helpful guys!

Anyway, all in all it went pretty well. The questions weren’t too harmful, even from the irritating mad lunatic that Klaske had warned me about. Then the compliments started rolling in, which was quite awkward. First from Doreen, then from a gazillion others. Including the fat dialect poetess with the Nana Mouskouri glasses, the president of the Shetland Amenity Trust who I thought wasn’t a native speaker of English (oops!) and a host of other local celebrities. There were also a couple of Juan Antonio Samaranch comments: my talk was apparently the best yet. Or the most interesting yet.

So from then it was relaxation time. The rest of the talks was moderately interesting, but apart from mine, I think the most interesting one was Leyvoy’s. Or the debate between Hjalmar Petersen and Michael Schulte about whether Jakobsen’s or Hammershaimb’s (well, Jón Sigurðsson’s, really) spelling is better. I side with Michael on that one. There’s also interesting ways in which Leyvoy’s talk can be drawn into that. And then there’s some more stuff that ties into that again. Really cool stuff.

After the talks had finished, there was a tour of Scalloway Castle, led by an Orcadian tour guide (which was pretty random, considering we were in Shetland). A nice little castle those Stewart earls had built for themselves, although the labour was not always entirely voluntary. The view was also quite nice, or at least it must have been in the earls’ time before they whacked those ugly modern metal-plate buildings between the castle and the bay.

Saturday evening
That evening the organizers had provided food again, and once again it was a cold buffet, although it was slightly better than the day before. After dinner there was entertainment in the form of a Shetland foy. I had done a Google search before and had decided that it was pretty much the same as a traditional Gaelic cèilidh, with maybe a bit of Faroese kvøldseta mixed in. The internet, of course, was right. There was traditional Shetland fiddling, much of which sounded suspiciously familiar from New Scotland. There was Shetland dialect poietry (which is how they say it), with the Nana Mouskouri woman mentioned above, and there was story telling which was also quite amusing, not because of the stories but because of the man’s accent, which related to Scots as Brabants relates to Standard Dutch.

After the foy had ended and everyone had left, we had to wait for the bus to fetch us, and of course the Faroese delegation decided to turn this into a proper kvøldseta, so out with the fiddles and in with the kvæði and some traditional ring-dance (which hadn’t been seen in Shetland since 1774).

Noregs menn, dansið væl í stillum,
stillið tykkum allar
riddarar, Noregs menn,
dansið væl í stillum

Sigmundskvæðið, for those who are interested. It’s about Sigmundur, who was sent by Ólavur Tryggvason to the Faroes to convert them to Christianity. Unsurprisingly he ended up dead, but the Faroes converted in the end. That was in 999, one year before Iceland.

Anyway...