Well, I’m back, she said .

I am now back from Fair Isle, leaving via the Good Shepherd IV on a bitterly, cold, windy, snowy dark morning.

There is loads to share with you, and a huge amount of art in readiness for my exhibition in August, as well as what happened between arriving in Fair Isle and leaving my next residency which was in Scalloway.

Yesterday morning the weather was stunning. Bright, beautiful sunshine, a gentle breeze, and warm. I walked down to the lighthouse which is just a short distance away but becomes even more dramatic as you approach.

It was the first time I could smell the sea, too. And plenty of birds. There are incredible rock formations and natural arches. I walked around snapping pictures and felt like a tourist. Which I suppose I am even if I am working here.

A neighbour popped in to say hello, and see if I needed anything. And the sheep ran off when I went close to them. I made a small book from the marbelled paper my paints were wrapped in; I will use this for notes and observations.

Yesterday the wind picked up, which I did not realise until I went out to get fuel for the fire. I was nearly knocked off my feet by one gust, and as I was now aware of it, I could hear it all night howling round the cottage. This is precisely what I came here for.

The weather has been predominately grey for the past three days. But the prevailing palette seems to be muted greens, ochres, some pink and, of course, blue. So I spent time swatching colours of the island.

But at 4.30 pm yesterday, I watched the sun set as a pink slash through the sky, draped across a vivid navy blue. A few hours later it was pitch black apart from flashes from the South Light, which I expected. I did not, however, expect to see two other lighthouses to the West and Southwest, where there should be absolutely nothing. These were the lights from the furthest most isles in Orkney: Start Point in Sanday, and Sea Skerry in North Ronaldsay.

The weather looked perfect for getting to Fair Isle, but the cloud base was 1000 ft, and it was likely that we would not be able to go. I sat at Tingwall Airfield, trying to be grown up and not let any impending disappointment show.

But we did leave. I have studied Fair Isle so closely that as we flew over I could feel myself subconsciously reciting the names of hills and geos and crofts. And then we landed. I was finally in Fair Isle.

My second breakfast of the day was at the Grand Hotel and I then headed out to look at Lerwick. It was wet, and there was nobody around. I sat in the rain, glad for my dryrobe and waited for the shops to open. Only Specsavers did.

The journey to Shetland was incredible. There was just enough wind that you knew you were on a ship, but it was the smoothest sailing I could have wished for. I woke unexpectedly at 3.45 am and looked out the window. Two lights flashed, one higher than the other, the North and South Lights on Fair Isle, confirmed by my wonderful Memory Map app.

Today, I closed up my studios until next year. My beautiful miniature orange tree has been stripped of its fruit, and instructions are left on how to water it. Everything has been unplugged for PAT testing, and three paintings have been left out for hanging in Wasps’ Winter Exhibition later this month. My working studio is filled with stock and display items for the Winter Market.

I am trying to remember what I might forget: Fair Isle is remote, and resources are few. But that, of course, is the appeal.

Two weeks today I will hopefully be in Lerwick, keeping every finger crossed for good weather for the flight to Fair Isle the following morning. Everyone I have spoken to so far has been incredibly helpful and friendly, and they have all been fabulously encouraging. I am so looking forward to meeting everybody.

I cannot wait, and I have sent my materials ahead. Hopefully, Parcelforce will get it to Shetland in time to reach the Good Shepherd and Fair Isle before I do. At the moment it is in Chorley. That is 270 miles south of Inverness, and 660 miles from Fair Isle. I can but trust.