Its a veritable community of houses all clustered together over a 1000 years old. Of course the fraulein decided to get into the picture she was about as welcome as a fart in a spacesuit, no I lie, two farts in a spacesuit. I didn't know the German for 'please could you stand aside so I can get a good picture' and it probably would have come out sounding like 'Geffen lossen wumen'. So she stood there and it didn't appear as if she was going to move. Oh well.

Naturally, you'd be surprised to know that the monks found plenty of food on hand on the island and even planted a small garden of veggies in a little col, down by the steps.There would have been rabbit stew, rabbit soup, rabbit fricassee, rabbit nuggets, and brar rabbit, or is that rare? In the summer months there would have been a welcome change in the cousine as Puffins flew in from the Artic circle. So then it would have been Puffin fricassee in sauce Bernase, with cream meringue pie, after dinner mints,and a box of Ferrero Rochet chocs to boot (beehive edition) ,all washed down with a bottle a piece of Dom Perignon 657 A.D.! Hardships such as these considerably shortened the lifespan of a monk.

Sometimes the monks succumbed to bad Puffin soup or fell off the island when they missed their footing going down the stone steps. In fact there is a high point on the island called 'The Spit' ,where there once was a stone cross out on a windy ledge. The story goes that the monks would crawl out on their hands and knees along 'The Spit' and kiss the cross before scampering back again. A sharp gust of wind and they would have ended up being human parachutes!! However there was a truly cruel fate awaiting those who laboured over those beautiful illuminated manuscripts, we've all heard about. If they slipped their quill tip into a finger and the quill held yellow Arsenic Sulphide as a yellow dye, then they were dead meat. All they could say would be 'Oops, hey brothers, I just accidently stuc....". Sad stories indeed. But a really truly cruel scenario would be if you pricked yourself and had taken vows of silence before you arrived on the island. This I believe is how the game of Charades was invented. First word... how many syllables Brother Dominic.?...one.. ok go ahead..rhymes with sky no no , blue yes, eh is it YOU ,yes...ok second word, similiar to ...not so fast Brother Dominic please!...cradle? pram? cot ok is it GOT,? all right.. we're cooking brothers, YOU GOT ..third word, one syllable...rhymes with chicken no no eh, hen then..would it be pluck yes, oh I know You got struck by a bus...no.. your brother got stuck in a bus....no oh dear.. how about.. your brother struck you with a bus? no..hmm Dear Lord, what ever can it be?.. May I remind you, brother Thomas, that buses have not been invented yet...Oh!! Usually when the truth was conveyed it was too late or either the monk died of exhaustion trying to explain it and they were dutifully incarcerated in the monk's graveyard, which has a few cross inscribed markers.(see above)