Friday, March 11, 2005
Back And Crack
03/11/2005
I am surprised at 7.00 am to find a fair day after a night of heavy rain and strong southwesterly winds. The “Brownies Flute” sang last night for the first time since January. However, it is calmer by breakfast time with the wind veered to the northwest. The day remains dry with the odd glimpse of sun above the grey clouds. Wintery flurries push down the glen and the forecast for the weekend is windy, cold with plenty of snow to the north of us. Yes, guess where we are heading for an engagement on Saturday night, Elgin, right in the track of the bad weather. It will, I am sure be a perfect, if cold event. Dearest Dotty beards the National Park Authority about the litter on Loch Lomondside, following one of her regular voyages up and down the A82. Much to my surprise, they return her calls of complaint and are very sympathetic, although their best advice is to offer the name of an official to write to. I am even more surprises to learn that, under cross-examination the authority spokesman freely admits that almost all their budget is spent on transport and administration and that objectives such as litter picking can only be achieved with additional funding, naturally this cash has been diverted to the aforesaid free taxis for one legged lesbians, this time in Dunbartonshire! My own personal shame to-day is to have been banned from the pub in Dalmally. Being Red Nose Day I had challenged Lachie to have his back and crack waxed for charity, and that I would match any donation pound for pound. Lachie chose the pub at Friday lunchtime as his venue, and it did not take much encouragement to persuade me to join in the fun. It seems that Lachie had omitted to clear the event with Hector, the publican, so that more or less halfway through (well the back was waxed) and when many local worthies were in their cups, our community Policeman appeared to control the revelry. I must add in our defence that we raised over one hundred pounds, enough, I believe for many pairs of jym-jams. I am in the doghouse and Lachie is “under” our new lady GP. We need a bit of nonsense to keep us sane. Bottoms up (sorry Lachie)! Yours Aye, Archie, The Baron Trollaigh.
Thursday, March 10, 2005
Tour Coaches Of Spring
03/10/2005
A change is in the air, it is a dull old day, with a poor forecast for the weekend. The breeze starts from the south west, but veers northwards in the middle of the day. The temperature drops as this north wind increases, and eventually, light showers turn to heavier rain as a front sweeps in from the North Atlantic. I head down the road on a flying visit to Oban, within the glen, I collect the usual collection of beer cans, crisp packets, plastic bottles which have been casually tossed out of cars enjoying a cruise in the countryside. On the main road, my passage to Oban is slowed by those harbingers of spring, Tour Coaches. Our local operator has invested hugely in a fleet of split new behemoths, which I assume accommodate extra passengers, and must be excellent on an autostrada, however, they are really too big for Scottish roads. They lumber along in convoy cutting all the bends and having to stop if anything large is coming the other way. I fear a crop of frustration related accidents in the summer months. In Oban, I have the usual frantic fiddling about trying to find change for parking machines, which for some illogical reason offer 40 minutes parking for 50p. I can only assume that this is an example of the chocolate bar conspiracy where the price remains the same, however the bar becomes smaller and smaller. No time for even a coffee before returning to the grindstone. Lots of paperwork and decisions to be made which means spending the rest of the day in the office, much of the time on the telephone. Mhairi provides an excellent dinner after which I watch Kirsty Wark’s TV documentary about the Scottish Parliament building. Fires on, dram in hand, muttering to myself. Yours Aye, Archie, The Baron Trollaigh