Tuesday, February 15, 2005
F16s
02/15/2005
That forgiving northerly continues from most of the day, sun on The Tower of Glen Trollaigh at 10.35, better and better each day. A temperature of plus seven degrees, with additional radiated heat from the sun, dry, mostly cloudless skies with some high cloud from time to time. About two o’clock, I feel the first puff of air from the south west, a change coming. The pressure is high, so any change will be slow. Dearest Dotty and I work outside all day on different garden projects. Lachie appears with his new rifle, straight from an American movie, in dulled stainless steel and black plastic, with a silencer that would do justice to a marine sniper. A few shots show that it can knock the hat off a cat at half a mile (I promise that we did not use our beloved Willow). The power and accuracy of modern firearms is amazing, but surely, this is a good thing for the efficient dispatch of animals that must be culled at this time of year, rather than let them suffer deprivation and starvation on the high tundra-like hills. Lachie’s scalpel like killing is much better than my blundering about with a forty-year-old 303. The fair weather also brings our compliment of low flying jets. Normally, as we are in an “E.T.” area we often have the flat out, low level passes of huge fighters from the UK, US and Germany (such manoeuvres are now banned elsewhere in Europe). However, to-day we are treated to the slightly nervous fly-by’s of younger trainees in smaller aircraft, incapable of giving us the friendly wing waggles frequently executed at 200 feet, and 400 knots by their more experienced peers! I am pleased to note in the evening news that the Scottish ski resorts are all operational at last. Nevertheless, I am forced to growl into my dram, when the normally even-handed John Snow conducts two blatantly pro Blair interviews on Channel Four, he must have enjoyed some excellent hospitality at Chequers over the weekend, and his new specs make him look ridiculous. Yours Aye, Archie, The Baron Trollaigh.
Monday, February 14, 2005
Sunshine and Electric Fences
02/14/2005
A day of the “false” February spring, for the first time we enjoy six hours of sunshine on the Tower of Glen Trollaigh from 10.40 till 4.40. I know that we have plenty of foul weather still to come, but it is a lovely day with bright sunshine, blue skies, lovely white snowy tops and plus six degrees. The northerlies of the past couple of days moderate to a gentle zephyr, but this wind still restricts the rain to the east coast. So, after pleading with dearest Dotty to be my Valentine, it’s up and at ‘em, with an outside day planned. I spend the morning excavating the septic soak away, which has caused much of our problems. The design dates to a previous Baron, which, although sound enough, interestingly has not allowed for the increase in wet weather we have endured of the past eighteen months, a sign of climate change? The afternoon I spend moving rocks and stones to dearest Dotty’s new garden plan, while Dotty exhausts herself moving bulbs and snowdrops. One of the extra treats of a warm day at this time of year, is to hear the metal roofs in the farmyard expanding and stretching in the heat. My enjoyment of this sound is interrupted by a strident voice enquiring; “Where is the track to Ben MacDonald”. This hail emanates from a bobble hatted pair of middle-aged hikers. I happily point out the path they seek. Is it petty of me to wish that they had asked permission to walk through my garden and potentially dangerous farmyard? Realising that I have a “duty of care” as a responsible landowner to members of the public stravaigin across the policies, I flick on the hill park electric fence. A satisfying shriek echoes across the glen. Dotty enquiries why I am chuckling some hours later, dram in hand, warming my backside at the Great Fire. Yours Aye, Archie, The Baron Trollaigh.