Tuesday, August 30, 2005
Burghley Horse Trials
08/30/2005
The household of the Tower of Glen Trollaigh report that The Baron has left in high spirits for The Burghley Horse trials. He particularly wished to convey to you that we have better weather in Glen Trollaigh and that the scent of the heather bloom and bog myrtle are at their best. However, sunlight only fell on the Tower from 8.00am until 7.00pm, and to remind us all that it is only 14 weeks to the shortest day. The Reverend Mungo Trollaigh has “A good nag” at Burghley and has travelled with The Baron, we are proud to support the efforts of The Right Honourable Lucinda Begg-Trollaigh who will have the Reverend’s sixteen hands between her thighs. The Baron has an unfortunate way with mobile telephones, having dropped some in the river, run over two with a lawn mower and deliberately dispatched at least one by shooting. However his current number is 07917 818 950 and will be delighted to chat to anyone important before his return to the Tower of Glen Trollaigh on the 5th of September. Messages can be left for his attention the in the usual manner. Yours sincerely Lachlan Ainsley-MacKay, Farmer Manager, The Home Farm, Glen Trollaigh.
Sunday, August 28, 2005
Storms Again
08/28/2005
We have a week of mostly wet and cold weather culminating in a stormy Sunday, an hour or so of which we spend in the kirk where Uncle Mungo kindly conducts the service. I anxiously watch the drips from the ceiling realising that Trollaighs will need to stump up for some repairs, whilst Mungo speaks well on the subject that we all have our part to play regardless of our size or status, Uncle Mungo must have been following my concerned glances. It has been a wonderful few days with Mungo and Morag, highlights have been Lachie and my efforts, with pony trap, quad bike, block and tackle to get nonagenarian Mungo up to my favourite River Trollaigh pool. Uncle Mungo had selected a whopper 16 foot greenheart from the rod case, not used for generations, and then in amongst the swirling, peaty spate he hooked a 16lb fresh Salmon. Lachie and I are worried about Mungo, but we should not have been as he plays the fish for an exhausting hour, lands and dispatches the king of the pool without any need for the defibrillator that we had dragged along with us. Mungo and Morag have kept us all hugely entertained with tales of their long missionary lives in Africa, especially the many difficult times with restless natives from Cannibals in the Congo to Dervishes in Dohana. For one dinner, Mungo and Morag take over Mhairi’s kitchen to recreate a splendid typical African meal. Our girls dress in the uniform of the Trollaigh Young Ladies Bush Schools, though dearest Dottie does persuade them to keep their bosoms covered while we eat, and I have a great desire to check that our two Jack Russells are still with us after dinner. Uncle Mungo confers on me a Fellowship of African Religious Trust and presents me with the rather too obvious fertility symbol that is the well-known trophy of a fellow. You will know that I seldom use the many titles that history has bestowed on my family, to say nothing of letters of degree that I have earned, but I do rather fancy, The Baron Trollaigh F.A.R.T. and on my next visit to Oban I may order some new visiting cards so inscribed. As the weather closes in this Sunday afternoon,with only yards of visibility and great rushing burns around us, I feel a bit like a ship’s catpain concerned for the safety of his ship and crew. Only the briefest trudge with guests and hounds can be contemplated, I feel that a showing of “I Know Where I’m Going” is on the cards in the Ballroom, with a good glass beside each guest. The girls all laugh at this tradition, but secretly I know they love it. Light the great fires, fill the glasses, roll the film. Ah the simple pleasures! God Bless one and all. Yours Aye, Archie, The Baron Trollaigh.