Thursday, March 31, 2005
Under Pressure
03/31/2005
An almost identical day to yesterday weather-wise, if anything it is slightly milder after a cold night and marginally more misty all day. All my plans for a fruitful day outside are torpedoed early on with a phone call from the Boat of Garten in Highbury. The strident tones of indignation warn me that this is not going to be easy. Firstly, she rather bizarrely blames most of her woes on Lachie and Mhairi for “leading her on” during her last visit home and that these unfortunate two more or less forced her back to London and the PR job. Secondly, it transpires that her fall from grace, and gainful employment came about after she continued, despite repeated warnings, to point out the Gallipoli (ex Granita) on Upper Street as “The place where Tony agreed in writing to give way to Gordon in the second term” while showing high ranking provincial socialists the sights of London. This later activity seemed to be her main function in the Blair PR machine. After almost an hour on the phone, I felt that I had the situation under control when she dropped the bombshell that the Columbian cousin, Herman has installed himself, secretary and bodyguard into the top floor of the Highbury house. Engineers have been working night and day to fit armoured glass to this floor and a stainless steel portcullis on the Georgian access stair. A second team have constructed a global communications system complete with huge dishes on the roof. Do they not have conservation areas in Columbia? Our London neighbours will go ballistic. I then have to drop everything, motor at speed to the Oban solicitors to tele-conference with David. David needless to say, is still celebrating the Oxford victory in the Boat Race and seems terribly laidback about the whole thing. He mutters something to do with a chum in German intelligence who will sort it all out. Completely exhausted I limp back to The Tower of Glen Trollaigh, the daylight failing. I can only pour myself a considerable stiffener and hope for a calmer day tomorrow. Yours Aye, Archie, The Baron Trollaigh.
Wednesday, March 30, 2005
Time For The Garden
03/30/2005
The changeable weather accurately forecast, remains with us all day. Swirling hill mists, a low eight degrees, an easterly breeze, but although dull, it is dry all day. After a morning spent in the office, dearest Dottie and I follow our rule of dropping everything to try to work outside when the weather allows, and head for the garden. As usual, we are a long way behind in the schedule of improvements that we planned for this year; however, we both manage a solid few hours and feel much better for it, with at least impressions of our plans taking shape. We must just accept that our new garden scheme is going to be long term; especially as we old folk are attempting most of the work ourselves. One of the benefits of age with this type of vision is that, although we lead busy business lives, we do not have too many other distractions, certainly no distractions that we can easily give in to! I spend a little while with Lachie and sheep and watch and hear my first skylark. The lambs are very nearly here; this excites me as another sign of longer, warmer days to come. We do not scan the flock anymore so that the exact rate of our successful breeding must be proved at birth, always a bit of a nail biter, and then all the worries of weather, disease, crows and foxes. Pleasantly stretched, we relax in front of the TV and receive the expected news that number one daughter has lost her job with Tony Blair’s PR. It will be some time before the whole story comes out! The current tale is that it was unfair dismissal, we shall see. Yours Aye, Archie, The Baron Trollaigh.