Peter used to give the Community tour to guests and always brought them by my work station at the hall to see me cutting stone. I think Dieter and Robert Blakesley were often there too. Stone masons are always a hit with tours because people are not used to experiencing stone actually being cut and fitted.

I used to go on Health fasts: just eating apples or fruit for a week. One week I was on a word fast  (no talking at all) so kept a small black board tablet with me that I hung on a string of sea shells about my neck. If I needed to talk to someone, out it would come from under my stone apron and I would write on it to answer their questions. People were curious about it why I wasn’t talking and so on. Tom Buchan would also give the tours and he and sometimes Michael Worth would divide the tours between them. It got to be quite humorous during these tours as the guests would often ask questions; and having such limited space on the black board to write I would often respond cryptically, often sounding like an oracle.
The exchanges went back and forth  much like this:
Question : “How long does it take to cut one stone?” Answer : “as long as it takes”
Question: “How far does the stone come from?” Answer : “ Not far”
Question : “Is it hard to cut?” Answer : “With patience”

Of course the amount of levity and mischief Peter, Tom and Michael would all get into playing the straight man to the Oracle was quite hilarious. There were some really funny moments, like when two Italian sisters on one of the Tours enjoyed asking the oracle (me) questions in their broken English The exchange went something like this:
“Meester Michael, when do you-ah sharpen your chisels?” Answer : afternoons
“Meester Michael, Eez – it very rough ?” I held my hands out for them to feel
“Va Bene ; very rough …. Thank you we gonna come back maybe see chisels too – ok?”  Ok was all I could write. Besides what tourist wants to see chisels?

Then the tour disappeared into the Hall. I never saw them again for all that day .
The next day I was at my station and I got hit on my work vest back by a pebble; seconds later another. They were coming over from the thick vegetation of the dunes. I got down from my scaffold and carefully picked my way into the vegetation when all of a sudden  ….there they were …. the Italians!

The Findhorn dunes are a very magical and mysterious place and the public’s unique anonymous appreciation of the crafts at Findhorn was both beautiful and unlike anywhere I’ve ever worked.

Michael Davidson