Wednesday, May 04, 2005
The Black Isles
05/04/2005
The joys of an accurate weather forecast. I speak not of our illustrious Met Office who seem to be losing the plot a bit with their new “super computer”, despite their wonderful amazon presenters, Heather and the aptly named Gale. But to a new site I have been studying http://www.theyr.net, they appear to be Belgians specialising in marine forecasts, but by navigating to Oban, Scotland this site provides a surprising good forecast for Glen Trollaigh, and it is free, therefore a site after my own heart. I had to study the marine forecast in my capacity as First Mate on the Kerr’s “Mhairi Katharine”, today we set out to the Black Isles, north of Lunga for a PR photo shoot for Diana Drummond. “Artless Archie” posted a bit of a black mark by miscalculating the time of low water by a factor of 100%, thereby rendering the photography of seaweed a bit tricky. Although the Skipper seemed a little tight-lipped, I think I played the fool sufficiently to be forgiven. Plenty of photography took place, though obviously not of seaweed, as all 380 varieties were several fathoms below the surface. When bilge and heads cleaning duties were on offer I quickly volunteered, and I seemed to do a lot of dinghy rowing, despite a healthy looking outboard motor being stored on the vessel. I have been asked back on Monday for a harvesting trip, though I did have to bite my tongue when the Skipper slipped a pound coin into my hand and suggested that I nip into Nancy Black’s for a set of Oban tide tables on my way back to the Glen. I have a health sea tan and that strange feeling of going up and down, perhaps a second Ardbeg will steady me. Yours Aye, Archie, The Baron Trollaigh.
Tuesday, May 03, 2005
The Father’s Arch
05/03/2005
MESSAGE FROM THE OLD HOUSE. A CANCELLATION MEANS THAT THE OLD HOUSE IS NOW AVAILABLE FOR WEEKS COMMENCING 30TH JULY AND 6TH AUGUST.
Lots of huge clouds about, grey bases, high white fluffy tops, drifting slowly from the south, from time to time they provide shafts of sun, at other times more menacing black masses that move across the head of Glen Trollaigh. The temperature reaches a pleasant 20 degrees and it stays dry. Once more I am stuck around the office, the clear light and warm zephyrs make escape very tempting, I can almost hear the breeze singing in the high passes calling me away, but it is not to be, I must be satisfied with vistas from the boot room door. The dogs who laze in the farmyard cannot understand why a better spree is not on offer. I do receive one visitor who turns up and asks to see the “father’s arch” this is a strange architectural feature of a fine stone arch set in the south wall of the long gallery, it opening must have been filled in at some point as it stands in a solid wall. The history of the arch is not clear, but it is known that the “father” refers to a priest rather than a close relative, indicating that the archway possibly led to a chapel, long since lost. I am rather flattered that my visitor has spotted this relic in a reference book and I spend some time entertaining him. I almost set the dogs on him when I discover that the visitor is in fact our prospective Liberal Democrat MP, trying to canvass my vote, bloody cheek! I run him from the Great Tower with a number of searching questions on policy delivered in a rage, questions which the ninny cannot start to answer. He double locks the doors on his Rover as the dogs round the Tower in a baying mob. His best effort at a bon mot is to shout some nonsense about my “father’s arse” being more appropriate than my “father’s arch”. At least that is one party I will not have to consider on Thursday. Yours Aye, Archie, The Baron Trollaigh.