Monday, May 09, 2005
Torran Salt In My Eyes
05/09/2005
Changeable, breezy weather stays with us, cold overnight but struggles up to 10 degrees during the day. Monday brings at day at sea, battering against a stiff northerly out towards the south end of Mull searching for Dulse seaweed. Nancy Black’s tide tables work much better than my old ones, and we strike it lucky. Four exhausting hours later, we are bucking back to the mainland across a huge north going tide against the freshening breeze. I thought that I had left all this behind years ago; the difference this time is that everyone’s mobiles ping off from time to time and, we are all chatting to people as though we were sitting in offices instead of dodging sheets of icy spray! My eyes are sore from the salt, definitely out of practice. A good harvest, just hope it stays dry enough to process it all. Early to the Great Bed of Trollaigh tonight, Yours Aye, Archie, The Baron Trollaigh.
Sunday, May 08, 2005
VE Night On The Trojan
05/08/2005
A traditional Sunday, up early for a stiff climb up the Alt Trollaigh with dearest Dottie, looking for crow’s nests, the clouds are fairly thick overhead but we do get good glimpses of snowy peaks around us. Every now and then dark squalls sweep in from the North West bringing wintery hail and a temperature drop that freezes the fingers. Back for a plate of Mhairi’s porridge by nine o’clock, I am allowed a good hot bath in Dottie’s blue bathroom, a rare, but much appreciated treat. Off to the church at Bridge of Orchy by 11.30, where we learn that the Rev Sheddon is leaving us for a plumb post on the Costas, lucky chap, but we shall miss him especially as we must wander through intermeddle months of calling a new vicar. This afternoon we all gather to plant potatoes which we do in traditional back-breaking manual method, however I am sure the tatties taste all the better for it! Being the eighth, we settle in front of the box to watch VE day celebration in Trafalgar Square. Imagine our surprise when number two daughter appears as “Tamara” singing “We’ll Meet Again” at full throttle, dressed in an old sparkly Coco Channel’s of Dottie’s. What these kids will do for a buck these days, God bless ‘em. My own VE night was spent in the Harbour Master’s office in Liverpool after shearing off the array of a state of the art minesweeper having misunderstood his complicated lights. In my defence, we were steaming into the Mersey after fourteen sleepless nights on the open bridge of our armed trawler “Trojan”, just bloody glad to have an easy night sleep ahead. I suppose not all of us were heroes, but here’s to the ones who were! Yours Aye, Archie, The Baron Trollaigh.