My initial introduction to Fair Isle occurred about two years ago in a pretty dingy cafe near Victoria Station in London - a more striking contrast you couldn't hope to find! Over a particularly rough cup of café latte cum dishwater, Alastair asked me whether CHROMA would be interested in a project he had been commissioned to write for, by and about Fair Isle and its inhabitants. Intriguing! I admit my knowledge of the place was limited to knitwear and the shipping forecast, but there was something about Alastair's wide-eyed excitement and enthusiasm for the project that proved hard to refuse. I'm sure you can visualise the scene.

"There are only about 70 people on the island and they only have power if it's windy", he informed me. "Oh and there's no pub!"

"Also you might need to leave a couple of extra days either side of the trip in case the weather's too bad to get to and from the island."

Wow! I thought, sounds like a new series of `Castaway', what would the guys in CHROMA think about this? Needless to say we jumped at the chance.

Over the weeks and months that followed in the run-up to the festival, I entered into some wonderful correspondence via e-mail with several `key' members of the Fair Isle organising committee. One particularly hilarious missive from Jane read,

`... could you please send me dimensions for the cello and the base clarinet.'

I must say I was quite astounded that she had already heard about my playing style! Things couldn't be so bad, if they have e-mail, I thought. Maybe I'll be able to pack my electric toothbrush after all!

As `the day of departure drew ever closer I think we were all wondering what lay in store for us. All the preparations were complete, the flights booked with extra seats on the plane for `A. Cello' and `A. Clarinet'. I must admit feeling some trepidation on this one, knowing how bemused airport ground staff can be when you try and tell them that your instruments have seats. I once travelled with a group to the Middle East carrying a huge marimba as 'out-sized baggage', you can imagine the fun trying to explain the use of all those tubes to a Saudi Customs Official during the `Arms to Iraq' scandal! What would it be like getting on an eight-seater twin-prop? What had we agreed to?!

As expected the trip from Heathrow to Sumburgh wasn't without incident. At Heathrow the. ground staff were obviously well practiced at dealing with inanimate passengers though perhaps a little too exuberant with the strapping in of the cello with an assortment of ropes and sophisticated knots that would have foiled Houdini himself. After half an hour of macramé we were dangerously close to scheduled departure time and we were still the only passengers on board. Fortunately there was also a fault in the cabin so we couldn't be totally blamed for the plane missing its take-off slot. Finally we left a sultry London an hour and a half late. At Aberdeen we were ushered hastily to the awaiting Sumburgh plane, which had waited for us! i Popular we were not, especially as passengers A. Cello and A. Clarinet had to be strapped in again. We soon learned that we had to pay a price for our late arrival in Scotland - our luggage wasn't coming with us and might not make either of the two planes scheduled to Fair Isle for the following day. So armed with new `manual' toothbrushes we were finally met by Alastair and his Mum who took us back to Vidlin for the first of many feasts accompanied by many bottles of the Red MacGregor. Who needs a change of clothes anyway...

We awoke at some `godless' hour to a thickly befogged Shetland - would we make the 9am flight? If Tingwall airport was a revelation to us all, with its still immaculately turned out BA ground staff of one, then the plane was something else entirely. Evgeny opted for the co-pilots seat much to our mutual fear - the Russian was still operating on Orkney Ale power for goodness sake. What our new companions Andy, Ruth and a box of live insects must have thought I do not know.

The flight to Fair Isle is an experience I will never forget. The fog burned off to leave a gloriously sunny day, allowing us astounding views of Shetland and our first sighting of Fair Isle. It wasn't given that name lightly you know - indescribably, splendidly beautiful might approach it. Luckily enough for us some sheep had wandered onto the airstrip so we had to make another pass over the island which allowed us to savour the remarkable sight.

Now, meeting new people is always a strange affair, particularly if you've been in contact before and finally you can put a face to a name. I admit I have only a sketchy recollection of exactly who was here to meet us off the plane. Dave features prominently - dressed in fire-fighting garb taking photos of us with the pilot, also my hostess Lise and her fantastic set of wheels complete with outside bolting mechanism. We had truly arrived.

I don't think I ever truly recovered from the power of my first impressions of the island and its inhabitants. I had gleaned some idea of the uniqueness of the place from reading the score of Alastair's piece but no-one can imagine just how beautiful its landscape will be nor anticipate the warmth of the welcome. Once I had met Ian and Lise's small army of Tom, Hannah, Alice and the impossibly cute Lowri, I just sat and took in the sun-drenched view. Paradise!

After another feast we headed down to the Hall to have our first play through of `Given Days'. If the quality of the music was anything to go by we were in for a very special experience. It was only fitting, therefore, that our rehearsal was cut short by the amazing display being put on outside the Hall by the sun. The headlong dash to the top of Ward Hill to witness in amazement the sunset was, I think, the perfect way for CHROMA to end their first `Given Day'.

Tuesday morning saw our first opportunity to hear the Fair Isle choir in action. By nine the Hall was buzzing with anticipation and perhaps a few nerves. It was soon clear how hard the choir had been working to get to grips with Alastair's tricky score. Frankly I was fairly stunned at how well everyone was singing and the transition from piano accompaniment to instruments wasn't causing as many problems as some might have feared. Mid-morning, the baritone soloist Andy joined the ensemble to go over some of his fiddly bits before lunch. For the afternoon session the choir decamped to the Kirk with Ruth to sing

Vivaldi's Gloria from scratch, whilst Clare, Evgeny, Emily and I had our first stint with the island's children or should I say balms. I already had the feeling we might have fun by teatime since the four of us were staying with almost 50% of the island's progeny. The reports I received from Stackhoull confirmed my own findings at Kenaby - `Run, run for your lives!!' Only kidding - the afternoon flew by and we certainly had lots of fun. The first half of the session consisted of us introducing our instruments in turn - showing how they worked, what they were made of, how old they were etc, etc and then playing some music either alone or all together. Naturally I wowed them with the `Pink Panther' and my seagull impressions, Clare too gave a typically graceful account of Saint-Saens' `The Swan', which even stopped Lowri in his tracks. But Evgeny usually wins the crown for the most popular instrument and this was no exception with a fine rendition of the `Arrival of the Starfleet' from Star Wars- it's just a pity the hosepipe supplied by Kenaby was about 60ft. too long for Evgeny's party piece! However, when Ev started going into the use of horns in the 13 century or something, I felt my own eyes glazing over and my head sagging so thought we had best get the pirrie ones (hey getting to grips with this dialect thing) active. So we asked the kids to tell us what made Fair Isle special to them, rather like Alastair had done for `Given Days' and made a list, which we would use in the next session to create a piece of music. The session finished with lots of games, which were enjoyed by everyone, even the adults that joined in from the work camp. Though some of our more senior competitors drew the line at running around on all fours and doing the hop, skip and jump.

If that wasn't energetic enough we had the `Classic Ramparts' to look forward to later that evening. The weather having been glorious again all day, allowed the resident rockers to set up outside the Hall and get us boogying to a set of classic numbers as the sun set spectacularly once more. Like all great bands, the Ramparts left us begging for more, though one suspected they might be getting frostbite. The tables were then turned by Fair Isle's DJ, who treated us to a variety of tracks from Abba to Nirvana, this last resulting in severe whiplash injuries to some of the revellers - you know who you are! Others received minor cuts and bruises, mainly as a result of Alastair's special brand of dancing. So; whilst the air-ambulance flew the maimed to the mainland to the tune of the Pogues, others stood and watched another Fair Isle phenomenon - the Northern Lights. It was my first time and as such will be something I will never forget.

Which is more than can be said for our illustrious leader and composer, who looked woefully short of sleep and seemed to have erased whole swathes of the previous evening from his memory. Did anyone ever find out why he went to bed with someone's spanner? Nonetheless, the show must go on and rehearsals continued a-pace, hangover or no hangover. The afternoon was once again dedicated to all things `from scratch'. CHROMA helped the bairns knock their composition `A Day on Fair Isle' into shape. Scott and Lachlan were desperate for there to be some kind of explosion involved so we tried our best. Daniel truly shone as the epitome of spangling stars, whilst Kate did a brilliant enactment of the plane flying over the island. Then once we had tidied away we had to hot-foot it over to the Kirk to join in a run through of the Gloria. I tried telling Ruth it was a bad idea for us to join in - yes we can play our instruments but sing!! Well she had been warned. The whole experience made me realise how fantastically the choir was singing Alastair's music, which is ten-times harder than Vivaldi. Credit where credit's due.

The Kirk remained the focal point later that evening with.a recital showcasing the huge talent to be found on the island. The first half featured the fine Shetland pianist Neil'Georgeson. He treated a packed church to a programme of Beethoven, Schubert and Brahms and demonstrated great skill in spite of the electric piano. This was followed with some amazing playing by Ian??? On the pibroch. After a short leg-stretching interval, came the turn of Vivaldi's Gloria. Personally I was more nervous than I've been in years, particularly as our newest arrival on the island was the patron of the festival Sir Peter Maxwell Davies and he was sitting right in my line of sight. There were, however, some excellent solos by those more accomplished vocally than I, which made for a very enjoyable performance, inspite of my leading the basses astray at the end of the piece - sorry guys!

As if this wasn't enough fun for one night, we had the dance to look forward to. Whilst the band got everyone warmed up Fair Isle's youngest performers were preparing to give the world premiere of their piece. Without even a wiff of nerves they showed us all how it's done and richly deserved the ovation they received. Then the dance proper could begin. I will draw a veil over my own headless chicken attempts at learning the `Quadrille' - sorry Ann, several left feet I think! And what ever else I might have attempted that night, but I will never forget the best dancing partner a poor English boy could have for `Strip the Willow'. Sparkly silver dress into the bargain, Kate and I set that dance floor alight. Fred Astair I may not be (Fred Flintstone more like) but for one night only she was a born-again Ginger Rogers! The glory doesn't end here though. Perhaps my joint favourite experience that night was listening to Ann, Eileen and Lise singing together - a truly breathtaking moment that still sends shivers down my spine just recalling it. Thank you!

The cracks were definitely beginning to show by Thursday morning - the candle being well and truly burnt at both ends for some. Perfect timing for that marathon rehearsing session to try and get everything tidied up before the dress rehearsal the following day. Oh well! Having Max sitting in seemed to perk everyone up, especially Alastair - can't think why. He needn't have worried though, as Max appeared to be extremely supportive, encouraging and helpful. After such a grueling few days us Chromatics decided we needed a night off all this wonderful hospitality. Who should come to our aid but Scott and Cara who suggested, nay demanded that we come round and watch `Harry Potter'. Apologies to Max, whose talk I understand was excellent and inspirational, but we were pooped and frankly how could we refuse.

Have I mentioned how wonderful it is that everyone on Fair Isle still seems to be amazed by the island's natural beauty, irrespective of how many years they have lived there? One such demonstration of this occurred part way through our cinematic evening, just after the game of quidditch in fact, when someone phoned Stackhoull and demanded we go outside and witness the MOST extraordinary sunset. I'm sure I'm not boring you with constant talk of these phenomena, but really they are amazing. Not even the sunsets in Hawaii come close, I can tell you.

So dawned the great day - the day that had been over two years in the preparation. It dawned a darn sight too early for some. Interviews and music recordings for BBC Radio 4's `Today Programme' and Radio Scotland had to be achieved before breakfast - it's tough at the top! As it was we were in the middle of breakfast when it came on just before the pips- my, oh my did Betty do us all proud, she really put Fair Isle on the map and not for "Storm Force 9 and rising" this time.

After lunch came the dress rehearsal, which was the first time we had performed a complete run of `Given Days', and I must say it was wonderful to feel the full impact of the piece as a whole. Everything was shaping up nicely for the premiere that evening.

The worst thing about performing anything, in my view, is the bit after all the rehearsals have finished and all you have to do is hang around until the show. Usually, this is the time you start panicking about the tricky bits, the time for early pre-concert nerves. Perhaps it's testament to how well prepared everything was at this time, that Alastair, Max, Clare, Emily and I decided to go for a yomp up ' Malcolm's Head. The view from up there is amazing - you really get a sense of the scale of the island both in area and more acutely height. There aren't many places you can go in the UK, where you are feet away from seabirds' nest, or watch the gannets plunging into the surf and practically reach out and touch the fulmars wheeling overhead - stunning! We also got to meet some more wildlife up there - the politicians had arrived, mobiles poised!

It's hard to describe the atmosphere of the Hall that night - electric just doesn't come near. You were there, you know what it was like. I won't go on about it all, as everyone that was there will remember it from their own unique perspective -just as it should be. For me a few things stand out. Firstly, the roaring ovation you gave us when we came and played our bit of the concert. Secondly, the attention all the children gave to our performance - they were fantastic. Musically, the whole thing was hugely successful but the women's chorus `Packing up wir proil', Eileen and Lise's duet and the whole of `Spring' were joyous.

I've been doing this kind of thing for as long as I can remember now - performing that is. I've been fortunate to play in some of the greatest venues around and travelled to some fascinating countries, but I can say; hand on heart, that I haven't enjoyed a project as much as that performance in some time. For me, chamber music is the work I find the most fulfilling, mainly because it's the most challenging but also because you get to work very closely with people that you count as fast friends. There's something almost spiritual about exploring music with friends; you put so much of yourself on show and have to dig right down to the depths of your soul in order to extract that extra something. Classic Fair Isle was that kind of experience. Everyone worked so hard to make it a success, not in the usual commercial sense, but because the music mattered, because it was about who you are, what you live for, what makes you all tick. I know we four `guests' feel privileged to have shared such an incredible journey with you all. You made us so welcome on your bit of paradise and the friendships that were formed during that `given week' will endure, without a shadow of a doubt.