My island homes

What is it about islands? About islanders?

Is it something to do with having clearly defined boundaries, a sense of being held in the embrace of a cold sea, self-contained, isolated, far from the centres of power, from the smoky conurbations of the world; is it this that creates resilience, that gives us such a strong community, such a powerful sense of home, such a powerful identity? 

My life has been defined by that identity.

Quick to dismiss us and our islands as backward, lacking the sophistication of the big cities on the mainland, the movers and shakers of the world, the “influencers”, like to poke fun at us. Islanders across the world are accustomed to jibes about our insular communities, about the conservatism and nepotism of our institutions, about our slow speech and our two heads.

What the others don’t know – but may be beginning to realise – is that we have something they don’t. Something they have lost. All those years of isolation, of distance from the mainstream, have preserved a unique environment, built and natural. While the big cities and urban sprawls of the world trashed their heritage, ours remained intact. And many of our island communities have preserved an older culture, a better way of living. While the residents of busier places rush to embrace every new fad, while they race from one appointment to the next, making money, making connections, making a name for themselves, here in our island homes our lives move at a slower pace. We sometimes take it for granted, but we know how precious it is; that time to enjoy the sunshine, to sip on a glass of chilled local wine or a fine beer, to tell stories, to walk on an empty beach, to hang out with friends and family.

In short, the time to enjoy life.

Read the full story in Forty South here