The following is the story behind my nickname, taken from my musings on walking the Camino de Santiago and wilderness experiences in South Africa; written for my own satisfaction and only seen by close friends and family so far.

On Ladybirds and Keymaidens

I was still with Aidan and we had left Burgos early that morning; it was Day 15 of our Camino and Day 1 on the Meseta, the flat plains on the central Spanish plateau between Burgos and Astorga. It is one of the hardest stages of the Camino as there is little shade and villages are few and far between, which means water and food stops are scarce, so you have to carry supplies with you, just in case. I started well and the first nine kilometres flew by, but as we passed through Tarjados I really started to feel it in a bad way. My knees, back and shoulders all ached and my energy just seemed to ebb away. We had planned to finish at Hortanas that day but it wasn’t in me to do another ten kilometres so I stopped in a small village called Hornillos del Camino; Aidan chose to stop too despite me telling her to go on and that I’d catch up with her a the way. So, we both checked in at the albergue next to the church in the centre of the village and spent the afternoon sitting in the sun drinking cerveza, chatting with fellow pilgrims and playing guess the colour of the tractor. We’d noticed that every other vehicle that passed through the village was a tractor, usually coloured red, or yellow, so as you can imagine the game was very simple, but very funny and that combined with the good company, the warm sun and alcohol my aches and pains were soon forgotten.

Budu, a German guy we’d bumped into on and off a the way was there and a couple of Swedes called Per and Sylvia. During the course of the conversation Per told us that he was a Shaman; he even had a business card. He’d spotted the ladybird tattoo on my foot, which amazed me as most people don’t see it because it’s so small and badly done, it's often mistaken for a mole or birth mark. He also noticed the silver Viking key which I was wearing on a leather thong around my neck. My sister had given it to me just before I left home, she had bought it from a Norwegian silversmith at a medieval festival, who had told her that it symbolised female strength and independence. Per went on to tell me that the Swedish word for ladybird is ‘nyckelpiga’ which actually translates as ‘key maid’. I was fascinated and delighted with the connection and Per wondered if I had been aware of it. Of course, I hadn’t; I’d had the tattoo done about twenty years before my sister gave me the key, but I found it made me smile inside and made the key, which was already very precious to me, even more so.

Since then I’ve often wondered whether in my over tired, tipsy state I’d misheard or misinterpreted what Per said, but I checked recently and it’s true. Ladybirds are Key Maids in Sweden.