Cast off your watch!

How can we free ourselves from anxiety, fear, mortgages, money, guilt, debt, governments, boredom, supermarkets, bills, melancholy, pain, depression and waste?

The question was in a book that I randomly picked from the tiny shelf in my friend Tim’s reconditioned caravan.  But it was hardly chance that he happened to be reading Tom Hodgkinson’s How To Be Free – it was pretty much what brought him to live on the windswept Scottish island of Coll.

And what an appropriate read it was:  where else can you find chapters entitled ‘Stop moaning, be merry’ or ‘Reject career and all its empty promises’?  

Most pertinent of all was the section headed ‘Cast off your watch’.  How apt, in a place where nothing seemed to open. To be fair, the population is barely 200, so it’s lucky to have a post office, petrol pump, pub, general store and community centre.  I swear there were more post and phone boxes than people.  There’s even an organic food store, The Ethical Supply Company, more suited to Edinburgh’s leafy Collington than barren Coll of the western isles (locals call it TESCo!).

So for a few days I was liberated from the ‘expensive manacle’ of the watch.  We watched corncrakes at breakfast, took picnic lunches as we cycled between the 23 deserted beaches, and swam in the breathtakingly cold Atlantic before tea (we were at the same latitude as southern Alaska, and the gulf stream is a monstrous lie). 

At Totronald we wondered at the standing stones which had stood facing each other for thousands of years, fittingly called Na Sgeulachan (teller of tales).  The sunset over Breachacha castle was stunning:  in James Boswell’s account of his journey to the western isles he says Dr Johnson dismissed it as a ‘mere tradesman’s box’ - I beg to differ!

No watch, no mobile phone signal, and no telly or radio - it was like being back in my Cambodian village!  But even in Tim and Jane’s cosy caravan we were fed grandly and amply amused by dexterous dominos and spirited Scrabble (the curse of the traveler is he must always play by the local’s rules: is there really no such a word as ‘tonnages’?)

Nevertheless, after a few watchless days the novelty wore thin.  I enjoyed my trip to neighbouring Tiree, in particular the timeless ‘spotty’ houses where only the pointing is painted white, and the more modern trend to pick out the odd windowsill or gatepost in pillarbox red.  However it was rather marred by abundant ‘closed’ signs, the worst greeting me after a ten mile detour to the highly-rated and expertly-hidden Elephant’s End restaurant. 

I deeply admire Tim and Jane’s steadfastness.  And there’s much to be said for Tom Hodgkinson’s ideas.  But by the end of the week both me and my mate Nick were ready to leave, as much for our love of central heating as timepieces.

I have certainly had my assumptions challenged, but wasn’t quite convinced to cast off my watch for ever.  Perhaps I’ll be moved to action by the next chapter, the snappily-titled Self-important puritans must die!