Monday, May 30, 2005
Whitsun
05/30/2005
Whitsun, a name created in medieval times as a “quarter” day for payment of tithes and rents, does it have any significance in 2005, or twenty “0” five, as we seem to be calling this gracious year? It all seems a bit crazy as a quarter of the year is about 91 or 92 days, allow for Christmas to Christmas, or Michaelmas as we old farts like to call it, and it still does not stack up. Martinmas also comes into it all somewhere. I must consult a solicitor; they are the fellows for Latin mumbo jumbo and rolling convicts over cliffs in blazing wicker cartwheels. It is one of the better days of the year with light north westerly breezes to keep the midges away as Lachie and I fairly whizz through the list of tasks, left by dearest Dottie, in good sunshine and 18 degree of warmth. There are few interruptions from the phone as London enjoys the Politically Correct “Late May Holiday” and the States “Memorial Day”. The roads around us seem quite busy, but I think there are fewer visitors this year, weather, cost of living? Certainly, it seems daft to pay £1 a litre for petrol and tour round a third world UK, when you can jump on a plane to the sunny Med for peanuts. The Kerrs in Glen Orchy, who try much harder with guests then we do, were wakened at 4.00 am by one of their visitors trying to shoot Red Deer Hinds from their bedroom window, a tricky low trajectory shot across a public road. Before much damage was done, John managed to disarm the shooter by seizing the smoking barrel from outside the window. Words were exchanged, but apart from the Kerr’s garden gate looking like the side of a block of Beirut flats, there were no casualties. Traditionally, throughout the Lord’s Good Earth many things happen this long weekend; the Tarbert Scottish Series; the end of the UK football season; the French nation disappearing up its own myopic thingamy; but best of all is an anatomically correct (or is it) moped riding, frog reaching the top of the UK charts with a cell phone ring tone. Oh how I just love progress. Yours Aye, Archie, The Baron Trollaigh.
Saturday, May 28, 2005
Feeling Much Better
05/28/2005
Saturday morning in a wet and wind glen. The forecast delivered by “Gale” McGrane and the ghastly new BBC weather graphics is more or less correct, fronts moving from the SW, strong Northerly winds with showers, a brief mid day rest then the breeze veers SW, rises to galeforce and brings heavy rain. The clouds are down to 1200 feet and even the tourists are staying away this holiday weekend, not a camper in sight! Despite all this crap weather, I feel in very good form, a bachelor for a few days in my lonely mountain “Keep”, I have given Mhairi my new wishes and a firm slap on her rump, to which she responded with a wink and a friendly giggle. I have entertained Lachie to a large Saturday dram and a long chat about our excellent lambs followed by a brisk walk with all the dogs to inspect the stock. That most excellent of chaps, the Dalmally Golf Course green keeper, hearing of our catastrophic weekend has turned up with a tractor on grass tyres and a huge heavy roller, at last after his expert treatment dearest Dottie’s scared lawn looks firm and level. We also follow the green keeper’s advice and apply a liberal dressing of Blood, Fish and Bone, smells abominable but one can see the grass sprouting before one’s eyes. I have decreed that we shall all eat together in the kitchen to-night and Mhairi must choose the wine while I cook a simple dinner for myself, Mhairi and Lachie. Later I am moving back to the Great Bed of Trollaigh and I thumb my nose at “instructions” from Highbury. Finally, after almost a week of guilty pressure, I feel wholesome, relaxed and clean, or at least I will when I indulge in a shot of Dottie’s recently installed new multi-head steam shower thing, to which I will take a pre-prandial Hendricks and Tonic. Bottoms Up! Yours Aye, Archie, The Baron Trollaigh.