Friday, February 03, 2006

The Yorkshire Races

02/03/2006

High-pressure controls our weather and our ground remains as hard as concrete. The Gold Medal Winner has called a halt to work on the hanging gardens of Glen Trollaigh, and with a sigh of relieve dearest Dottie and I head off for a weekend visiting a few of the Yorkshire races. Where we hope to win enough money to pay the toothless heavy plant troll for sitting on his backside for a week.

I therefore wish you all a productive few days to come, and a special thanks to Mr Alec Pendle of Grampian Holdings plc. for offering as many excavators as we could shake a stick at, if I mention his company in this scribble which apparently pops up as a “hot tip” or somesuch on Google. Pendle, old fruit, I will be on the blower Monday am. It was also a delight to hear again from Hilary Chang after many years, who reminded me of jolly japes shared on the Shanghai Bund, although the purpose of her message was to add silk to my list of excellent natural fibres used next to the skin. Hilary is now the head man in the China Silk Co-operative and never misses a trick to promote her goods.

So lets fill the flasks, cram on the Borsalino, load the dogs and its hey ho for Yorkshire, Yours aye, Archie, The Baron Trollaigh.

Wednesday, February 01, 2006

Warm Tootsies

02/01/2006

Ah, gentle reader, now we must complain about the lack of winter rain, or more precisely a period of dry and cold weather. The ambient temperature both day and night is minus five to six degrees and that makes it bloody cold. To add to our discomfort a gentle southerly breeze springs up to give a wind chill of minus ten, without moisture we have no snow and the ground is ironbound. The toothless heavy plant troll refuses to start up his huge, but apparently delicate diesel engines in this subzero sate, and he dozes in his Range Rover to the calming sound of Classic FM. His crew,in the rusty Transit van, read The Sun and play cards, the only sign of life is the odd steaming tea bag ejected from the windows, whilst the Trollaigh family pace in frustration at lack of progress.

The only clothing for these low temperatures remains plenty of natural fibre, layers of cashmere, lambs wool, tweed, felt and an outer covering of Nubuck. The main trick is to have a wool or cashmere scarf, tight around the neck both indoors and outdoors, then almost anything is bearable. It is a good idea to have a number of active dogs to force one out of doors several times a day, via the boot room, then after the initial shock, a good tramp around the policies works wonders. So far, all the support systems of the Tower of Glen Trollaigh continue to function, however bedtime is becoming a nightmare. Dearest Dottie desires her side of The Great Bed of Trollaigh to be red hot, whilst I cannot sleep unless my bed is on the cool side. We resolve this by having separate electric blankets and individual duvets of different TOG. Dearest Dottie’s blanket is switched on with the first gurgle of the pre-prandial Hendrick’s and Tonic, whilst mine is only flicked on for the few seconds it takes me to disrobe. I have to admit that I still favour a substantial nightshirt, whilst dearest Dottie chooses the delightful, if less practical fashions of Janet Regger. Despite my age and different bed temperature disposition, my feet often slide across to the tropical side and comfortable companionship. Yours Aye, Archie, The Baron Trollaigh.