Smu Hard 4.0

Post-SMUHA
The next morning was a bit of a trauma.  Not only was I hungover, but Louie the dog had SOMEHOW located my toothbrush and eaten it! 

There’s only one thing worse than having a mouth that tastes like the inside of a sock, and that is knowing it is going to stay that way for the foreseeable future.  I considered just eating toothpaste.

Gary gave me cider for breakfast.  “You thought I was kidding when I said we’d have drink for breakfast,” he grinned.  This was NOT a man who looked like he’d been off his head on Smuha spirit just a few hours earlier.  And he was right back into it!  The Jarl Squad had a few stations left to cover that they hadn’t done on the Friday, so he and Jackson were headed back out for more “Hi Ho Silver Lining” and “I Got Torches” etc.

I’d been told that Smuha Saturday is most people’s favourite day of the three-day event.  In the afternoon they have mellow music (jazz, folk) along with food and drink and in the evening there’s “The Hop” which is a big dance to live bands.  

I LOVED the idea of going to a “hop”.  It reminded me of the sort of thing my dad would go to back in the 1960’s where all the women lined up on one side of a dance hall while all the blokes lined up on the other while Roy Orbison sang in the background.  But first we had the mellow afternoon to get through.  And it was harder than you might think because that final furlong is where the fatigue really starts to kick in.   But the music was great and there was food, so we filled up on burgers while Gary and the band played “Wagon Wheel” which is a song that will always take me back to the Sandwick social club.

The hop itself was in a nearby town named Cunnigsburgh, so everyone trooped onto a bus and I’d had enough beers by this stage that I wasn’t too concerned about how we were getting back again.  You know when you get to that bulletproof stage of being drunk, where you just love everybody and everything is great and everyone is your friend?  I have got into SUCH trouble when I’ve been in that state.  But here in Shetland, for the first time ever, it didn’t matter because everything really WAS great and everyone really WAS my friend.  

Jimmy had told me that Shetlanders have an interesting view of outsiders.  They are colloquially referred to as “Sooth Moothers” on Shetland (apparently in Orkney they are referred to as “Ferry Loupers”).  But it’s not some “us and them” relationship.  The Shetlanders seem to welcome the outside world coming to them because, as Jimmy pointed out, it’s opened the world to Shetlanders too.  And he’s got a point – these guys are everywhere.  That Viking need to travel is still strong.
Certainly I felt very welcome and even though I was nearly asleep by the time we got to Cunnigsburgh, I found myself dancing to a brilliant ska band who did an amazing version of “Take On Me” by a-Ha.  I like ska and I love 80’s cheese so I was completely in my element.  Gary plopped his helmet on me and then we were off again to a blue band.  Looking around the room I could see everyone I’d met over the past few days, Barlow, Lesley, Ryan (still in his Viking hat).  It was as awesome as the ending of Footloose and I’d had enough drink to believe I was Kevin Bacon.  

It was a brilliant night and although I only have a vague memory of going home I remember it involved a sing-along with Gary who treated us to a song about a lost rooster which he went on to describe.  In the lyrics, the rooster was blue and purple and woke his wife up most mornings.  Now that I think about it, he may not have used the word “rooster”.  I was CRYING with laughter.  We’re a sophisticated bunch, all right.