Page 3 of A Scottish Island Summer

‘Excuse me?’

I snapped my head up to see the middle-aged man who was sitting across from me trying to catch my attention. He’d set down his thick brick of a paperback in his lap. ‘You’ll not have much luck using that on here. It’s the atmospherics.’

His voice was warm and sing-song Scottish.

‘Of course not,’ I ground out through a rictus smile. ‘Thanks for letting me know. Foolish of me to think otherwise.’

I folded my arms and scowled out at the rain. Sod it! I’d do some work instead.

So, I pulled up my notes app on my phone and rattled down some brainstorming ideas for my travel guide, which included teasers I could post on my social media, to give followers a flavour of what would be in the book. I also needed a co-ordinated, complimentary series of posts to promote it. Pics of me on a beach, clutching unusual shells; close-ups of thistles and heather maybe… My heart deflated as I looked out of the coach window at the raindrops whizzing down the pane.

I let out a grumpy harumph noise.

I thumped my phone back into my bag and thudded my head against my seat.

The days when I worked in public relations for a radio station in North London seemed like a world away now. I’d been there for about three years when I started posting articles and interviews on the radio station website.

My ‘Ten Random Questions With…’ slot with various guests soon gained momentum when a couple of well-known singers re-tweeted my posts, and I found I was beginning to get a big increase in followers on my personal social media accounts. That was when I decided to launch my own website.

I began blogging on it, talking about news stories and people I was meeting at the station, and companies began sending me their products to review: everything from hairbrushes and nail polish to notebooks and mascara.

I would write up short, snappy reviews under the moniker Darcie’s Delights and it went down a storm.

Soon after, I found myself approached by news programmes to talk about and give my opinion on topics such as the influence of social media on people in the twenty-first century and can modern women really have it all?

Then came the offers from travel companies to review their hotels and accommodation abroad. I couldn’t believe what was happening. I was caught up in this sudden whirlwind of opportunity and things snowballed from there, the travel review requests coming in harder and faster. And then Justine contacted me, to offer representation, and I ended up resigning from the radio station to do my blogging and travel social influencer role full-time.

Sometimes, it felt like the whirlwind had happened to someone else. There I was, an ordinary girl from Clerkenwell, with two hard-working, amazing parents, thrust into this world that was completely at odds with what I’d grown up with. I still experienced tidal waves of imposter syndrome from time to time.

I guess in a weird way, though, it had come at a good time as it helped me focus on something else, when I lost Mum and Dad in quick succession. It even spurred me to enrol on a home study diploma course in photography with the British Academy of Photography, which helped to keep me occupied and focused on something other than my grief. It also improved the quality of my content, which led to more opportunities with brands. On the course, I learnt everything from lighting and perspective to using multiple angles for the most creative shots and not being afraid of monochrome. I realised that with my photography, I could use my initiative—follow my creative gut, which I loved. I also liked that photography allowed me to use my imagination and create memories that lasted. Pictures remained forever. Unlike people and relationships.

I also threw myself even deeper into my social media and blogging, determined to make a success of what I was doing and raise my profile. I knew it was the only way I could try and deal with the shock and pain of my parents no longer being there.

We passed a sign for a place called ‘Kyle of Lochalsh’ and it pulled me out of my meandering thoughts.

More fields, rock faces and swooping mountain ranges emerged. They began to melt together in front of my eyes.

Was there just sheep and Highland cattle around here? What about actual people?

I could feel my eyelids drooping and before I knew it, I was slipping into a disgruntled sleep.