Friday, June 30, 2006
Bachelor Boy.
06/30/2006
I have spent a quiet bachelor week in the Tower of Glentrollaigh as the family hop between Wimbledon and Henley. It must be my age, however I am more than happy to be pottering in the library and gunroom polishing weapons and checking over fly boxes in preparation for the 12th of August and the summer months spent with chums. Both Lachie and Mhairi are obviously under strict instructions to watch over me and prevent any naughtiness; nevertheless, I have taken a leaf out my dear Uncle Jack’s book and planked a few bottles in the longcase clocks which adorn many public rooms and require visits most evenings for winding. Sunny weather has encouraged a good deal of walking and taking notes for “things to do”, most of which have been carried over from last year’s idleness. Our tower-bound threesome even attempted something called a barbeque, which when off very well although it seemed to require me getting very hot, red and well smoked, whilst Lachie shouted encouragement from under a midge net and Mhairi nibbled a green leaf or two well watered by some of my best Fume.
I have kept my holiday media free, which has helped my blood pressure no end. However, did I really hear that there are one million civil service pensioners living in Scotland? Apparently, the Scottish Executive has also agreed that all civil servants (including themselves) can still retire at 60 with a full final salary pension for the foreseeable future, while the rest of us must soldier on to the grave. Mind you, if there are one million retired and many hundreds of thousands of working civil servants out of a population of five million, knock out the children and work-shy, and there are bally few of the rest of us!
Tanya’s taxis arrive shortly to whisk me off to the Game Conservancy Fair at Scone Palace, and old Mansfield has muttered about digs being available until Sunday. I hope that the weather will be fair, so that I do not have to spend the entire show sheltering in the Adam & Company hospitality tent, as has happened in the past. Yours Aye, Archie, The Baron Trollaigh.
Sunday, June 25, 2006
Good Value Or No.
06/25/2006
Changeable summer weather, warmer, drier, with plenty of cloud cover, but the odd bright, breezy, midge free momment. This is an important weekend for the Trollaighs as dearest Dottie heads south to join our daughters at Royal Ascot and I plod reluctantly to Ingliston and The Royal Highland Show. This compromise was struck a few years back in the days when I might have unwisely wagered a pound or two at Ascot and, of course, we still had a few beasts worth showing at The Royal Highland.
This year, dearest Dottie will sport a new Yvette Jelf number on the greying coupon, as we have a ticket or three for the Royal Enclosure. However, I just hope that the girls will be sensible and stick to Topshop, rather than Bendi or whatever, as the London budget will need to stretch over Wimbledon Fortnight without the benefit of the free Highbury House that we have enjoyed in the past days of my chairmanship of the Diamond T. Tanya’s Taxis convened me to Edinburgh where things went fairly well until I was summoned to the President’s marquee by the new SRBPA chaps to press the flesh for rural Scotland. It is surprising how much the politicos still crave the odd titled twit to add gravitas to their jollies, and of course, I immediately fell in with Jamie Lindsay for a glass or two and a good moan. Blow me down up jumps “Lord” Mike Watson, fresh from the Barlinnie gaolhouse; I am frankly amazed that those who seek to brown nose President Tony are allowed back into important positions after so short a punishment. Perhaps the Royal Highland hospitality had the better of me but I gave “Lord” Watson a piece of my mind on the basis that his rural know-how did not stretch north or west of Govan. Adding that some poor slope-eyed chap from Shetland was being deported for half the crime that “Lord Mike” had committed in torching the curtains in Uphall. A charming girl from Canada was given the commission of getting me out of the marquee and steering me around the show and out of the way of any official visitors for the rest of the day. I enjoyed the stock lines and several high quality exhibits, but many of the trade stands are full of tacky imports. This reflects badly on a show that sets out to promote the very best of Scotland, I suppose it is all down to pounds, shillings and pence, which is such a pity, to say nothing of the £77 it would have cost the Trollaighs to get into the showground if we were going “en famile”. Imagine the reaction of a family of overseas visitors turning up on the day, not good.
Until tomorrow, yours aye, Archie, The Baron Trollaigh.