Monday, September 12, 2005
A Weekend Of Two Halves
09/12/2005
I enjoy my weekend helped by fair weather, as it stays mainly dry and warm with the odd burst of sunshine. All our guests arrive on Friday night as darkness falls rather than the more traditional Friday teatime thus throwing dinner into confusion and setting me on edge. I was also somewhat taken aback by the hundreds of thousands of pounds our guests seem to spend on their motors that look fabulous, but require a chap in a white coat armed with a laptop to keep functioning. I had to stifle a laugh as a Mercedes agent rushed 100 miles to help his client close a jammed electronic convertible after the car was flooded by dearest Dottie’s lawn sprinkler. On Saturday I persuaded Lachie and a couple of hired hands to organise stalking for the reasonably fit, while I took the infirm to the river where we had a little success and more importantly no casualties. We did meet up with five “fishermen” armed with everything but a fly rod, who when challenged did leave the banks, but made it quiet clear with tossing beards and ponytails that the days of old riparian landlords are numbered under the Land Reform Act. They became quite peeved when I managed to stuff a bin bag full of all their empty cans, bottles and sandwich wrappers through the back window of their car as they sped off, the irony of their “rights” under the L.R.A. was unfortunately totally lost on such ignoramuses. As the light started to fail, I organised a tour of some of the older parts of The Tower of Glen Trollaigh. I am pleased to report that our guests seemed genuinely interested as I warmed to my favourite topic and only the polite coughing of Lachie let me wind up the tour, leaving time to shower and change for dinner. Nature notes for the day, confirm the counting of twenty house martins and swallows left wheeling around the tour, I do hope they have not left their migration too late. Midge numbers are well down and judging by the signs some of Dottie’s wild wood animals may be moving back to the outbuildings. Now a massive Hendrick’s and tonic before I face Saturday’s dinner. Yours Aye, Archie, The Baron Trollaigh.
Friday, September 09, 2005
The Hon Lucinda Rides African Prince
09/09/2005
A welcome return to the glen after a lost weekend at Burghley Horse Trials, a huge pile of correspondence and family matters has kept me from this diary for a few days. Uncle Mungo and I had a wonderful time at Burghley where we had access to all areas because The Hon. Lucinda Begg-Trollaigh was astride Mungo’s African Prince. Dear Lucinda tried her best to control the famous Begg temper, but things got a little out of hand when she whipped a judge over a doubtful decision on the backward steps in the dressage. The stewards allowed Lucinda to compete in the cross country, but not in the show jumping where the judges sit within whip range, so in real terms she stood no chance. However, the sun shone and many a glass of chilled Moet slipped down the baronial throat while the sponsors tried to shift everything from Land Rovers, to Rolex watches and Dog Food. Our girls, dearest Dottie and Aunt Morag came down for a good day’s shopping on Saturday and I even managed to winkle Dottie’s mother out of the Lincoln Fens to spend the day with us. Dottie and her mother in enormous sun hats contrasted sharply with Aunt Morag, whose stunning six foot four frame was dressed in traditional African robes. However, the three of them seemed to be able to pinpoint any scandal with radar like accuracy, spending most of the day in hysterics. The only gaff came when a young steward mistakenly addressed Uncle Mungo as “Father” in deference to Mungo’s clerical robes. Mungo, as a card carrying Wee Free Presbyterian who consider the Holy Father to be the antichrist and despite his advancing years floored the youngster with one sweep of his crook without spilling a drop from his glass. The problem was that the steward turned out to be some minor Windsor and yours truly had to pull out all the stops to avoid a minor incident, I have a feeling that the old Trollaigh card may have been marked, so best behaviour for awhile. The gloomy prospect of a large group of sporting guests looms for this weekend. And I have just heard from SEPA that my favourite duck flighting pond is an “Impoundment” of water requiring “Authorisation”, what complete rot. I have locked the better booze in the cellar and instructed Lachie to stick to dispensing Tesco gin and whisky to all but myself. Yours Aye, Archie, The Baron Trollaigh.