North British. Nature snatched each word and froze it in mid air. Sunlight dribbled weakly round each phrase as it stood there in front of my face. Stavanger was nearer than London but I was stilll dreaming in English. The welcome was cold and suspicious. I was a stranger on this island. This outpost of British reserve. Everything was understated. Conversations were frozen. Short summers failed to evapourate them. Words few, precious and preserved forever. Reactions slow and solid. Stares punctuated each greeting. This rock was Britain north of north.