Monday 26 
September 2005 
Rain Day I've done well--I've seen just about everything I wanted to 
in Shetland, save for a ruined broch here or there, and so when today turns out 
rainy and miserable, I am able to take a town day without regret. I spend most 
of the morning at the tourist office online, posting my pearls to the whisky 
forum. I also manage to get laundry done for an exorbitant fee (worth it to 
me--few things I hate more than hanging around a laundromat). In the afternoon, 
I shop up and down the twisting main street of Lerwick, poking into virtually 
every shop; it doesn't take all that long. I buy some Shetland knitwear for Mom 
for Christmas, but the one souvenir I want is not to be found--a small 
Shetland flag, a white Scandinavian-style cross on an azure field.
  
The island of Bressay protects Lerwick's harbor and is a seven-minute ferry ride 
from the pier. At the other end, the tiny Maryfield House Hotel stands but yards 
from the landing. I've been planning to get over here all week, and this is my 
last chance. I'm a bit worried at the small and empty lounge bar when I arrive, 
but it's early, and the place livens up a bit later. The hotel is run by an 
expatriate South African, and my dinner of scallops is maybe the best one I've 
had in Shetland. The Pulteney that follows is smoky and sweet and just the thing 
after seafood. I fall in with a couple of lads, one local, the other a displaced 
Londoner, for several games of pool, under the peculiar local rules. Not having 
played in ages, I quite naturally shoot very well at first, but the more I think 
about what I'm doing, the more my play deteriorates. It's a fun evening 
nevertheless; I wish I'd thought to come over here on Saturday to escape the 
madness. Of course, the place may have been filled with crazed Bressay youth, as 
well.
  Reluctantly, I catch the 9:30 ferry back to Lerwick, standing on 
the car deck, watching the lights of the town grow larger. A nightcap in the 
Lounge Bar caps off my Shetland sojourn.
  
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