Wednesday, June 15, 2005
Depression
06/15/2005
A few days of grim unseasonal weather, with no wind, lots of rain and a pronounced chill, our constant companions are millions of midges. I try to restrict all the activities of the running of the Tower of Glen Trollaigh to the indoors, all hands to spring-cleaning and only the briefest of forays outside for dogs and sheep. In the very occasional break I do nip out into the garden, doing more harm than good including slewing a track off the baronial excavator, resulting in a very midgie hour getting it back on. All this rain has fairly turned the glen a lush green, but hardly a soul has been seen apart from a few brave but hopelessly lost motorcyclists. We even suffer a power cut for a while, most unusual at this time of year, this seems to be linked to a “major incident” at Bridge of Orchy, and as yet I do not have any details. This dull weather depresses me, as does the news filled with lots of spin about everything from the re-launching of the Scottish Health Council and a fist full of other quangos, wankers to a man. President Blair makes even more of a fool of himself on the world stage, while his military advisors warn him that they are so under funded that they cannot support his international promises, even flight crew’s training flights are being restricted because of lack of fuel and the navy is tied up in port. How I wish for good news. The only hope is for sunshine and some midge shifting breeze, not much sign of either. Yours Aye, Archie, The Baron Trollaigh.
Sunday, June 12, 2005
Dance With The Devil
06/12/2005
The dogs make a great noise this sunny morning, being Sunday I do not expect Mhairi to be chasing them from the boot room door, so I tumble down the Great Stair and let them out, two things surprise me. First it is 4 am in bright sunlight, second is that having had the glen to ourselves for a couple of weeks I can count the smoke rising from at least twenty campfires within a few hundred yards of the garden. Ah well at least I can shut the door on the midges and slip quietly between the crisp sheets of the Great bed of Trollaigh and cuddle dearest Dottie for a two or three more hours. Communion at Bridge of Orchy kirk and the great joy of sharing it with like-minded souls despite having to park the baronial Land Rover on the grass as the car park is full. I claim the traditional licence to slip into the pub for a stiffener and a chat with the bar staff, now from every continent and corner, they explain that the crowds of campers and cars are due to a host of charity walks, triathlons, the Caledonia Challenge and the celebrations of the 25th anniversary of the West Highland Way. Ignoring the special events, I am told that over a thousand walkers each day are crossing the A82 at Bridge of Orchy where despite repeated requests to the Scottish Executive there is no speed limit or calming measures. It can only be a matter of time before there are fatalities in this black spot and I for one will have no hesitation in naming the civil servants who are responsible in letters to all the Scottish press. Climbing back into the motor, I manage a few worlds with our minister, the Rev John Shedden, complimenting him on his uplifting service and his choice of hymn; “We’ve a story to tell to the nations that shall turn their hearts to the right”. John is somewhat taken aback when I offer my support of his political views, he shakes my hand and with a wistful look calls me “a dear old Duffer” what can he mean? Yours Aye, Archie, The Baron Trollaigh.