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June 29, 2005
Master Of Farts
The summer weather, warm and dry stays with us until it breaks on Wednesday. This weather lets us work in the garden, but we also take a day off and make a trip to Portree on Skye to visit an exhibition along with some friends. An Lochran or Flower of The West is a travelling exhibition of visual art, funded by the Scottish Arts Council and the Islands Council reflecting the influence of the Western Coastline on five Glasgow based Artists. I had not realised that the artists are all Masters Of Arts graduates from Glasgow School of Art, if I had twigged this then I would have known what to expect, as this august body have been devoid of any depth of work or originality for thirty years. We were subjected to two video installations of waves crashing onto rocks (very coastline), a video installation of a fishing boat looped to endlessly enter Ardglass harbour in Ireland (subtle twist on Western Coastline), a relief map of the beaches of the Outer Hebrides (eh?), five photos of the Uists reproduced by scratching their outlines on baking foil (very primary school), two huge bits of paper covered in the tiniest detail in low definition ink so that the subject matter of a mountain ridge was invisible (very worrying). The normal form at these affairs is to leave a book for comments, as artists of this calibre do not mix with the public. An Lochran’s book was full of the most sycophantic clap trap left by silver haired politicians and hangers-on, presumably suitably lubricated by the free booze at the opening do. I was very pleased to see the comment “Absolute Pants” hidden amongst the drivel by some honest soul who will now never benefit from Art’s Council funding. The weather gave us the most spectacular drive home with the air gin clear and every detail of our wonderful western landscape magnified for our pleasure, in stark contrast to An Lochran’s nonsense. I could write for days on the way in which rural communities are being betrayed by government at every level. An example being our rural GPs, once respected father figures in every community regardless of their frequent eccentricity, alas now Armani suited and Gucci loafered nobodies concerned only with targets and making sure their surgery doors are firmly locked and bolted by five on the few days they turn up for work. It was revealed this week that these paragons are now in receipt of £6000 per week if they provide medical cover “out of hours”. This has come as a bit of a shock to the public and the Scottish Executive responded by letting a failed GP turned MSP make a statement. I have absolutely no idea how this woman was selected to represent Glasgow Strathkelvin, as she is a complete nincompoop. She stuttered and fluffed her statement and was sinking fast under fire from even friendly journalists, I could hardly contain my laughter as in desperation she justified the BMW booted GPs salaries as being comparable to any Health Service Manager, now there is a bit of news! Doubtless a P45 in on its way to MrsGP/MSP as I write. Because of the popularity of my little column, I am embarking on a UK tour and can be found over the next two weeks at The Scone Palace Game Fair, Hampton Court RHS Flower Show and Art in Action as Waterperry, phone 07890 043542 to check at which Pimms or Champagne Bar I am holding forth. Dearest Dottie and I send felicitous birthday greeting to Pete and Mhairi Katharine Kerr in Madison, 34 years between them! Your Aye, Archie, The Baron Trollaigh.
Posted by The Baron at 05:01 PM | Comments (0)
June 26, 2005
Up The Yangtze River
Every now and then we enjoy a magical evening in Glen Trollaigh. These evenings are never forecast and never anticipated, Saturday was just such, the sun shone from a cloudless sky and a steady westerly breeze kept the midges at bay. Dearest Dottie and I laboured in the garden and it was a delight to rest a foot on the old spade for a momment or two, sip a chilled semillion from a plastic cup to draw in the air and beauty of our wonderful Tower of Glen Trollaigh, looking its best while we watch and count the swallows and house martins swooping from nests in the eves, turrets and dormers. Only sunset sent us indoors for a light supper and to watch a superb TV film “A girl in a café”, I think it was called. Such a pleasant end to a hectic couple of days in London at the T.S. group AGM. The Sanderson side of things has been running the group most successfully for years and have gone from strength to strength in everything from banks to drinks and car making. Nevertheless, we Trollaighs still own a good chunk of it and the shipping side has performed very well this year. Because of expansion in China, a delegation from Shanghai was present; imagine my delight to find old Lee Wong amongst them. At the end of a long day Lee, our girls, Dottie and I shot off for a spectacular meal at the King’s Cross Formosa, still as special as ever with full service til 2.00 am, even if you need to pay someone to guard the motor. Lee and I retold many old yarns of our time together when I was Naval Attaché in Shanghai and Lee was in the Chinese Secret Police, for once we were more or less on the same side as we all tried to persuade the bloody French to abandon their out dated colonial aspirations in Vietnam. Of course, it all went pretty pear shaped for yours truly, when my grasp of technology failed and my telephone call whispering pornograhic endearments to Susie the luscious hotel receptionist turned out to be on an open line to the British Ambassador’s horse faced daughter. It was full ahead down the Yangtze and a six-month posting on St Kilda for me! Ah memories. Yours Aye, Archie, The Baron Trollaigh.
Posted by The Baron at 01:03 PM | Comments (0)
June 23, 2005
Full Moon In June
The June full moon that last year brought storms and rain; and in 2003 a spell of warm, dry summer, has this year decided on 50/50. From Midnight to midday, it is wet and windy, from Midday to midnight it is warm, clear and dry. Midges only bother us around sunset when any breeze seems to drop for a while. In general, country life seems to be very productive, even if it is a bit annoying to see pics of farmers in Suffolk making hay while our grass is six inches high and very green; however, I do feel that our slower pace promotes wildlife, particularly ground nesting and smaller birds. These chaps are coming back into view now that the first chicks are fledged; we see all the finches, including Bull Finches, Siskines, Thrushes, Blackbirds, Wheatears, Stonechats, snipe and the Skylarks still sing their hearts out when the sun shines. A visitor reported seeing a pair of Divers on the River Trollaigh when he was on the look out for Dippers and Plovers, which are common here. This sighting surprised me as I have never seen them except on isolated hill lochs, but it is possible. We now have good stags in view morning and night, and in the thickets foxes and roe deer. I hope the foxes do not get too cocky, as although we have suffered losses of both chickens and lambs they have been manageable. I have been able to join another seaweed harvest that started in appalling weather, forcing a stop for shelter tucked into the very south end of Luing. I was a little alarmed at the rate that large reefs were springing up around us as the tide fell, however the Skipper’s response was a withering look and to flick the off switch on the depth sounder. By the afternoon conditions improved and we had a few hours work in the salt spray around the north end of Jura. With Wimbledon in the air and Andrew Murray doing so well, Lachie and I have been marking out the Trollaigh court, the site of many a hard fought match. Over the years, many a celebrity has graced the Trollaigh base line from Fred Perry to Robert Plant, but I can just remember Sir Winston Churchill playing my Grandfather, both in splendid white flannel on a scorching Saturday. After a few serves Sir Winston handed his racquet to a junior private secretary and retreated to a shady deck chair, I was allowed to pour him an Ardbeg as he ignited a huge cigar. He then regaled my sisters and I with eye-popping stories about General MacArthur and six Philippino girls while my mother flustered and trumpeted around us. No wonder the general swore that he would return to Manila. Yours Aye, Archie, The Baron Trollaigh.
Posted by The Baron at 10:20 PM | Comments (0)
June 21, 2005
Thunder and Lightning, Very Very Frightening.
We still suffer very mixed weather from prolonged thunder and lightning, torrential rain, heat waves, hill fog, patches of blue sky, and thankfully southerly breezes to allow us some spells of outside work. Yorkshire has taken a battering from flash floods, but most of the rest of the UK from Banff to Bournemouth is having settled summer weather. A phone call even informs me of drinking water shortages on Shropshire. When I have been kept indoors I have been listening to the wireless, as a result, my blood pressure has been rising on news of ridiculous domestic political incompetence and the complete failure of politicians and their civil servants to state an opinion and make decisions. They have fudged everything from banning smoking in public places to charging for the use of plastic bags, “officials” issue bizarre health or climate scares, “experts” challenge each other on air over the most boring and trite nonsense. Roseanna Cunningham a low profile Nat with a high opinion of herself has even proposed the erection of notices to warn recreational land users where floods might occur, beside rivers perhaps. Scottish Water, those stealth tax gatherers have informed me that following an EU directive, not to be enforced in any other EU country, they will be forced against their will to charge me £600 each year to test the drinking water in the Tower of Glen Trollaigh. Yet another executive agency quango, the Care Commission (has anyone heard of them?) have forced the closure of the only rural Children’s Nursery in Argyll, the Care Commission issued a pompous statement hinting that they may have smothered the nursery under regulation and paperwork, but that rural kids needed the same care as urban ones. I do so hope the faceless PhD prats on the commission take note of the services denied to those same kids by other Quangos. The closure of our primary school, loss of out of hours medical cover, loss of a local GP, loss of our Post Bus, lack of safe speed limits or street lighting and also take account of the services soon to be denied the rural kids, local police and postal services. At least some of those kids may grow up to enjoy employment as drinking water testers! Thank goodness, Wimbledon will now fill our screens, to be followed by lots of Golf, self-opinionated commentators try to ruin it all, but at least I can turn the sound down. Yours Aye, Archie, The Baron Trollaigh.
Posted by The Baron at 09:43 AM | Comments (0)
June 18, 2005
Dib-Dib Dob-Dob
As a lad and a keen sailor, I used to spend many an hour “waiting for a breeze”, strange that some seventy years later and in a landlocked Argyll glen I should be constantly studying the leaves on bushes and trees, still waiting for a breeze! Overcast, muggy conditions with temperatures regularly over 20 degrees have brought all sorts of biting flies out in their millions, with the slightest breeze they drop to the ground to be scooped up by grateful wagtails and the human population of the Tower of Glen Trollaigh rush outside to work in the garden. The ladies work sedately but Lachie and I tear around with the roar of chainsaws, strimmers, grass cutters and excavators for an hour or so until the breeze drops and the little beggars are chewing at my eyelids. No command is needed as we all head for the kitchen to towel off sweat and midges, and crack open a Stella or two. It is strangely satisfying to be controlled by the weather rather than by some artificial deadline. BBCi weather maps indicate that the whole of the UK is enjoying 25 degrees, sun and a cooling southerly wind, except for a small grey, windless patch over north Argyll! However, there is hope for Sunday and Monday. Dearest Dottie and I enjoy a wonderful evening at Arichastlich with the Kerrs to say farewell to the Rev John Shedden and Jeannie, soon to be heading off to their new calling in Spain. An irreverent dinner with good friends and many hilarious thumbnail sketches of local characters, reminding me of the late lamented Rev Jack Masterton at St Paul’s in Greenock. We shall all miss the Sheddens both pastorally and as good friends, we have loved them for the past three years. I narrowly avoid accepting Jeannie’s suggestion that I replace her as Group Scout Leader when Dottie gags me with a napkin. This uniformed position would suit me well, particularly as a reactionary and a distruster of small children; it would also be ironic as in fact I was dishonourably discharged from the Scouts as a nipper over some trivial matter with a toggle and a knot bag. I remember my father being furious, but my grandfather, still alive at that time laughing like a drain and telling the story of the brokerage deal with Baden-Powell when he chartered a Trollaigh boat to bring god knows how many thousands of African Scouts and Guides from Lorenzo Marques to some loopy international jamboree in London. There was terrible trouble with B-P when the African Guides landed at Southampton topless. B-P had to be physically restrained and then uttered the famous Dib-Dib Dob-Dob stutter that has passed into folk history, though few know the true circumstances. I wish you all a pleasant Saturday evening and of course a happy father’s day. Yours Aye, Archie, The Baron Trollaigh.
Posted by The Baron at 04:42 PM | Comments (0)
June 17, 2005
Spirits Lifting
The weather does nothing to lift our midweek blues, damp, windless and below average temperatures. My days are spent in the office and it is very difficult to find motivation even when Mhairi tempts me with fresh coffee and home baking. On Thursday, I have an appointment at Arichastlich with the Kerrs to discuss marketing plans for Diana Drummond in 2006. After intense discussions, John and I nip into Oban for stores and put to sea in The Mhairi Katharine for a spree. This is the turning point of my week as we chug westwards through the Cuan Sound leaving the leaden skies of Mid-Argyll behind and head into glorious sunshine, warmth and a smooth rolling Atlantic swell. We listen to the Coastguards trying to untangle a problem with a yacht and the new DSC radio system. In turn we receive a low pass from a Naval helicopter, we ignore their radio chatter, needless to say these modern day technophiles do not acknowledge my respectful dipping of my commodore’s flag, which I always fly from The Mhairi Katharine’s mast head when I am on board. We stay at sea for a couple of hours and then return to the glens via a pint at the Glue Pot in Connel that has recently been refurbished and is worth a visit. As I review my happy afternoon I remember that we Trollaighs had a Diana in the family, my Great Aunt whom I recall quite clearly, she married a famous theatrical chap, Derek MacIntosh and enjoyed a long and happy marriage in London. They had no children and years later I was told that although they spent every night of their married life together, kissing and in the comfort of each others arms, no other action took place. It turned out that poor Derek was a bit of an amateur shirt tail lifter, which in those days was a criminal offence. A sad story of great admiration, loyalty and friendship, but a love unrequited. It looks as if a breeze might pick up and some blue skies appear, out into the garden with dearest Dottie! Yours Aye, Archie, The Baron Trollaigh.
Posted by The Baron at 12:46 PM | Comments (0)
June 15, 2005
Depression
A few days of grim unseasonal weather, with no wind, lots of rain and a pronounced chill, our constant companions are millions of midges. I try to restrict all the activities of the running of the Tower of Glen Trollaigh to the indoors, all hands to spring-cleaning and only the briefest of forays outside for dogs and sheep. In the very occasional break I do nip out into the garden, doing more harm than good including slewing a track off the baronial excavator, resulting in a very midgie hour getting it back on. All this rain has fairly turned the glen a lush green, but hardly a soul has been seen apart from a few brave but hopelessly lost motorcyclists. We even suffer a power cut for a while, most unusual at this time of year, this seems to be linked to a “major incident” at Bridge of Orchy, and as yet I do not have any details. This dull weather depresses me, as does the news filled with lots of spin about everything from the re-launching of the Scottish Health Council and a fist full of other quangos, wankers to a man. President Blair makes even more of a fool of himself on the world stage, while his military advisors warn him that they are so under funded that they cannot support his international promises, even flight crew’s training flights are being restricted because of lack of fuel and the navy is tied up in port. How I wish for good news. The only hope is for sunshine and some midge shifting breeze, not much sign of either. Yours Aye, Archie, The Baron Trollaigh.
Posted by The Baron at 09:18 PM | Comments (0)
June 12, 2005
Dance With The Devil
The dogs make a great noise this sunny morning, being Sunday I do not expect Mhairi to be chasing them from the boot room door, so I tumble down the Great Stair and let them out, two things surprise me. First it is 4 am in bright sunlight, second is that having had the glen to ourselves for a couple of weeks I can count the smoke rising from at least twenty campfires within a few hundred yards of the garden. Ah well at least I can shut the door on the midges and slip quietly between the crisp sheets of the Great bed of Trollaigh and cuddle dearest Dottie for a two or three more hours. Communion at Bridge of Orchy kirk and the great joy of sharing it with like-minded souls despite having to park the baronial Land Rover on the grass as the car park is full. I claim the traditional licence to slip into the pub for a stiffener and a chat with the bar staff, now from every continent and corner, they explain that the crowds of campers and cars are due to a host of charity walks, triathlons, the Caledonia Challenge and the celebrations of the 25th anniversary of the West Highland Way. Ignoring the special events, I am told that over a thousand walkers each day are crossing the A82 at Bridge of Orchy where despite repeated requests to the Scottish Executive there is no speed limit or calming measures. It can only be a matter of time before there are fatalities in this black spot and I for one will have no hesitation in naming the civil servants who are responsible in letters to all the Scottish press. Climbing back into the motor, I manage a few worlds with our minister, the Rev John Shedden, complimenting him on his uplifting service and his choice of hymn; “We’ve a story to tell to the nations that shall turn their hearts to the right”. John is somewhat taken aback when I offer my support of his political views, he shakes my hand and with a wistful look calls me “a dear old Duffer” what can he mean? Yours Aye, Archie, The Baron Trollaigh.
Posted by The Baron at 03:49 PM | Comments (0)
June 11, 2005
Drun Alban
Two fair days to finish the working week with good sunshine and temperatures, occasionally a large cloud threatens but the glen remains dry. The forecast is for more changeable weather to arrive over the weekend. The fair weather and a midge free breeze allow me to get some work done outside, but these are mostly routine maintenance tasks and checks. Dearest Dottie is in painting mode because the Tower of Glen Trollaigh absorbs a hundred gallons of paint each year into its extensive exterior woodwork. The sacred lawn is flourishing under Lachie’s care and the revised grass cutting schedule under BOGIE guidance is not only saving a lot of time and carbon emissions but is giving our new wild flower banks and edges a wonderful fresh look with bluebells flushing the woodland knolls and the longer grasses carrying a host of seed heads. I watch a pair of House martin chicks take their first tumbling flight from their snug nest in the stable block gable, ah summer! Europe is the main topic amongst the chatterers in the North Glens and generally, folk here are astounded by a naive “sound bite Tony” falling into the Franco/German trap of exchanging bon mot on the UK rebate versus French agricultural subsidy. This is a pure Chirac ploy to steer the spotlight away from the desperately needed total reinvention of euro-management, which does not suit Fritz or Frog. 10% unemployment and the disastrous economic state of french affairs makes Chirac’s autocratic delivery totally unacceptable to all but a power hungry German Chancellor, now where have we heard all that before? Blair appears unaware of the way in which top-heavy bureaucracy affects rural affairs, and obviously one cannot trust a French President who has never been prosecuted for his corrupt involvement with an African Dictator who kept the body parts of his political opposition in a freezer. Euroland fails to grasp the concept that most of its population apart from a few fascists and jingo maniacs support euro principles but are fed-up to the back teeth with the remote, corrupt and unaccountable top brass. A strange enquiry from someone called Foukes about Dorsum Britanniae which she claims straddles Glen Trollaigh, I fane ignorance, but of course the ninny is looking for Drum Alban or Carndroma in Glen Lochy. I suggest to her that I will exchange my intimate knowledge of these matters in exchange for a case of the young Ardbeg, she has already pencilled in an appointment, and is wildly enthusiastic about a visit to the Tower of Glen Trollaigh, “one of Argyll’s lost mansions” she croons, well I can always find it! Yours Aye, Archie, The Baron Trollaigh.
Posted by The Baron at 03:57 PM | Comments (0)
June 09, 2005
Sunshine, Showers And Road Taxes
A mixed few days of weather, while most of the UK or 98% of the population as the politicos call it have the first decent spell of summer, here in Argyll and the Isles there are good patches of blue sky then every afternoon the rain sweeps in and stays with us until lunchtime the following day. I do get many things done outside, but my modest list of chores lengthens rather than shortens particularly in the garden. After spending many hours researching the telephone problems in Glen Trollaigh one or two solutions do seem to be emerging from the chaos. I think that a feasibility study should be encouraged just the sort of thing that the Scottish Executive love, as long as the final proposals make a good “sound bite” and of course appear to be their idea in the first place. I will take this new pet project further. The main news must be the return of dearest Dottie sweeping up the drive in a battered Oban cab accompanied by Le Count Philippe d’Cadeaux who has kindly flown Dottie back from Nice piloting his famous black and gold Lear, causing quite a stir with a full reverse thrust landing on the short strip at Connel. Philippe’s friendship with Dottie dates back to their revolutionary student days in early 60’s Paris, where Dottie’s accurate launching of pavoir at the CRS became legendary. Like many an old fool with a younger bride I have always been a little jealous of this relationship; however, Philippe is just such a good all-round chap that I have always warmed to his charm. After a light lunch and bubbling with energy, Philippe heads back to Nice and Dottie armed with a paint scrapper attacks the southwest windows of the Tower of Glen Trollaigh that require their annual touch up. Dottie is most complimentary about the repair of the sacred lawn; I do admit that it is mainly down to Lachie and the Dalmally Golf Club. The media is full of Alistair Darling and his announcement that we will have “road charging” within ten years. It is a sorry reflexion on the current government that this basically sound idea using satellite-tracking technology is being treated with great suspicion as a tax raising scam. I have to say that if anyone can cock this whole thing up, Alistair Darling can. It does nothing to address the “green car” ownership issue and furthermore as at this time one in three road users avoid paying the current “road tax” and drive without licences or insurance there will be a huge aftermarket in gismos to defeat the IT system. If the police cannot enforce the current system, they will have no greater success with a new one. I pay about £2500 a year in taxes connected with motoring, if the new system abolishes all the old tax and I have to pay purely on mileage and type of road, in my case rural, my tax bill will halve. However, the cynics claim that the road charge will end up being an additional tax and the old taxes will not be removed as proposed. The “Big Brother” phobics are having a field day, am I the only person in the UK who could not give a damn if the police know where I am? That is in the library with a long Hendricks and Tonic! Cheers!, Yours Aye, Archie, The Baron Trollaigh.
Posted by The Baron at 12:08 PM | Comments (0)
June 06, 2005
Happy Days 2
At last Monday brings a decent day, Lachie is out early testing and teasing the lawn and after a couple of sunny hours he fires up the Ransomes to perform a surgeon-like first cut of the re-sown sacred turf, watched by Mhairi and myself. Our combined prayers to The Blessed Mary Trollaigh are answered with a machair-like surface, striped in shades of lush green. Lachie mutters that it could be better but it looks bloody marvellous to me. Mhairi throws open all the door and windows of The Tower of Glen Trollaigh letting in lovely sunshine and a northeasterly breeze brings perfect fresh air into even the most gloomy corner. The glen has been surprising quiet over the weekend with hardly a walker or camper to be seen, I suppose it is a combination of poor weather, the end of all the school “half terms” and those May Monday holidays with which in our politically correct age we seem to celebrate everything from the Russian Revolution to Queen Victoria’s Birthday. I did hear one Politico referring to Whit Monday as “The Late May Holiday Monday”, absolutely bonkers! The wet weather has brought the River Trollaigh into good condition and I have been scanning it for any sign of fish. I must be patient as it is a bit early for Salmon on this river, so I can watch the odd group of canoeists or “paddlers” as they seem to call themselves, disturbing all my favourite pools without upsetting the old blood pressure. The Scottish Canoe Club has even identified Glen Trollaigh as a river where more car parking should be provided for “paddlers” exercising their rights under the Land Reform Act, over this Baron’s dead body! To be honest I really do not mind the canoeists, as they do not leave much litter or make much noise, and obviously enjoying the great outdoors, I am only miffed because their shore parties seem to drive at speed up and down the Trollaigh road. They have perhaps not realised that this is not a public road maintained by the council, but patched by yours truly. It would be refreshing if some of them would come and ask permission rather than demand more car parking without consulting the owner, or the “land manager” as the PC poofs have re-christened me. The girls phone later, and with a bossy tone inform me that “Mummy” is coming home to The Tower of Glen Trollaigh tomorrow. This is wonderful news as I am beginning to miss the old bird, even better the girls are put out by my cheery and enthusiastic response, and I feel that they have had a carefully rehearsed lecture to deliver, but I spiked their guns. No flies on this happy old fool! Yours Aye, Archie, The Baron Trollaigh.
Posted by The Baron at 05:08 PM | Comments (0)
June 04, 2005
BT and Bollocks
Sitting in the office putting a little Saturday morning overtime as this week seems to have flown by in a welter of showers; rain, gales from every direction, flat calms, mud and midges. I have spent most of the days on the phone therefore have had neither the time or the inclination to be out apart from two solid tramps each day with the mutts, who do not seem to be enjoying the conditions either. A goodly portion of my telephone time seemed to be talking to the BT call centre in Bombay, or whatever it is called this week. BT is threatening to cut Glen Trollaigh off from the rest of the world because of unpaid charges relating to an abortive attempt to upgrade the verdigries copper wires snaking into the glen to ADSL. I spoke for some hours to a pleasant chap who called me “My Lord”. My name must have triggered some distant memory of Field Marshall Lord Trollaigh who spent most of his distinguished military career in that fetid sub-continent that is until some unfortunate report leaked out about a wholly innocent involvement training young boys and girls in healthy sporting activities. As a bachelor FMLT, as he was known in the family came under Victorian suspicion that a married man would have avoided, finally the old codger stupidly sailed away on an Arab Dhow with some of his protégées eastwards towards a more liberal Thailand and was never seen again. The Trollaighs have always followed a naval career from that day. Back in the glen, one light on the horizon has been that dearest Dottie’s sacred lawn appears to be making a miraculous re-growth. Lachie is only waiting for a reasonable dry spell before taking the old cylinder Ransomes gingerly over it at high setting, he has made a splendid job of fettling up the old girl who’s Briggs and Stratton fired on the first pull after five years of standing having been replaced by a triple gang ride-on. Talk of miracles reminds me of my great great aunt The Blessed Mary Trollaigh, but I leave that for another day. Yours Aye, Archie, The Baron Trollaigh.
Posted by The Baron at 01:20 PM | Comments (0)
June 01, 2005
Annoying Midges
A super Spring day on Tuesday, but I am confined to the office, fielding the messages from all the people who have enjoyed a long weekend and therefore decide that they have to do twice as much on Tuesday, a strange logic. Wednesday sees a complete change so typical of Argyll and the first day of June, the morning dawns grey and wet, by midday we have a full, chilly easterly gale and it is tipping it down. This weather is forecast to continue for forty-eight hours, so I should have just switched the phones over to the answering machines yesterday, enjoyed the warm sunshine, and then locked myself indoors to-day and tomorrow. One benefit of the gale is that the midges are grounded, as yesterday’s still evening had them out by the million. Speaking of midges, I did have one bizarre call from someone called “Midge” exalting me to support a popular protest against the G8 summit scheduled to meet at Gleneagles, he suggests that “I do my duty” and help third world debt by throwing Glen Trollaigh open to tents full of protesters travelling to Gleneagles. It seemed churlish to remind “Midge” that the eighty-mile extreme cross-country hike from here to Perth defeated even Bonnie Prince Charlie, with a pack of Red Coats snapping at his heels. The Prince was forced to return to Glen Trollaigh disguised as a milkmaid to have his blisters ministered to by the eighth Baron’s daughter, Frederica. There has always been some speculation about the services Freddie supplied, but she was later granted the title, “The Maid of Awe” and given Holyrood Palace in Edinburgh. There has been a long running legal battle spanning several generations over the Edinburgh house, the current German and Greek squatters have been particularly rude, however the title is still used by the Baron’s eldest daughter, whilst still a maiden. Speaking of which, I have heard virtually nothing from the Trollaigh ladies and their friends apart from a crackly mobile call from Cannes, something about “going to the pictures”. My bachelor status suits me well especially as I have picked the lock on the drinks cupboard, Cheers! Yours Aye, Archie, The Baron Trollaigh.
Posted by The Baron at 12:15 PM | Comments (0)