Shock for Colonsay residents

[Silkie]

No - not the return of the Chentlemen Cruisers.

CRIMEWATCH COMES TO COLONSAY?

It is a truism that you do not fully appreciate what you have until you lose it.

That said, we felt sure that this did not necessarily apply to the few souls who actually choose to live on this Atlantic outcrop. Surely we appreciate, day in, day out, the unspoilt beauty that surrounds us? Or its' proximity which allows us daily to explore its' every nook and cranny? Or its' distance from the often harsh realities of life in the 21st century? Or its' pace of life that allows both time and space to stop and smell the flowers or to appreciate fully the nuances of a fellow human's conversation?

We could, of course go on. The list is long, very long, otherwise we would probably be inhabiting some other part of the planet. But we came to realise the other day that there was at least one (ergo, perhaps all) aspect of life on Colonsay that we have perhaps come to take for granted. Here we are talking about personal safety/security that comes from being able to trust those who form your small community (we feel sure some social psychologist out there could give us a single-phrase term for what we are trying to talk about).

For last week, there came amongst us, as part of a group of visiting workmen, one who violated this trust. High perhaps on something other than mere alcohol, this chap was seen to behave quite erratically; however, it was when he was seen in close proximity to an island home where money was soon thereafter found to be missing, that alarm bells started to ring. For people who rarely feel the need to take their car keys out of their vehicle, let alone lock it or indeed their home at night, a hitherto alien disquiet, if not indeed fear, arose, prompting hitherto alien behaviour, which included the use of keys to try to regain something of what was now obviously missing.

A big gold star must go to our island Special Constable Don MacLeod who showed his mettle and rose to meet the occasion, arranging for the chap's 'removal' from the island on the next available ferry (where he was apprehended by Oban Police, confessed his crime and made a subsequent court appearance). But until then, with no evidence or confession, the felon was free to wander the island at will, and while Don was seen to be be in charge of, and closely monitoring, the situation, a rare anxiety hung over the island population.

So there we are. Things are slowly returning to normal. But if the residents of Colonsay did not fully appreciate before some of the more subtle advantages of living where they do, a subconcious re-appraisal is collectively happening all over our wee Atlantic outcrop.

From The Corncrake