Monday, November 12, 2007

Bonfire of Jackets.

11/12/2007

Ice grips the waterfalls high on Corrie Diamph, snow dusts the tops and a stiff north westerly scrapes leaves into annoying nooks and crannies. This Glen Trollaigh year without obvious seasons continues while the Alt Trollaigh water levels rise and fall, birds come and go and we even get 48 hours of settled weather, sufficient to rig the boson’s chair for dearest Dottie to paint the south facing windows, a task planned but frustrated since the spring. Changeable weather brings great difficulty in the jacket department; my boot room has simply layers of outdoor wear some of it belonging to Barons long departed. As I peel back a generation or two and savour the smells of old bad habits I wonder whether or not to ditch the old oilskins, tweeds and wax jackets to make way for modern technologies, perhaps the new Sastia range with the flip down waterproof seat, essential for those moments when one needs to settle on a damp stump for a stiffener, although one does note that political correctness has re designated the special flask pocket to a pouch suitable for a mobile phone. However I am confident that I can squeeze in a new jacket or two to help battle the elements. 

A poor season of stalking and fishing comes to an end, aggravated by swinging restrictions imposed by SERRAD following the English foot and mouth outbreak. The powers that be don’t seem to realize that farmers live to improve harvest and animal welfare, a misguided scheme like the underweight lamb cull is hated in the countryside and misunderstood in the town. Glen Trollaigh must rely heavily on the Tobacco Crop Subsidy to balance the 2007 books, not a happy situation. I have warned the household of general belt tightening for the deep midwinter to come, there has been a bit of stamping and snorting however when the choice comes down to champagne or hot water I expect the womenfolk will to come to heel. For myself I shall be reviewing a few of my regular indulgences to identify any savings.

Travelling seems to be the order of the day and you will find me propping up the famous mahogany bar of the Caledonia Club next week as a nip up to the capital will act a precursor to Scotland’s Euro qualifier and a hint or two for Christmas pressies. What oh, yours aye, Archie, The Baron Trollaigh.

Bonfire of Jackets.

11/12/2007

Ice grips the waterfalls high on Corrie Diamph, snow dusts the tops and a stiff north westerly scrapes leaves into annoying nooks and crannies. This Glen Trollaigh year without obvious seasons continues while the Alt Trollaigh water levels rise and fall, birds come and go and we even get 48 hours of settled weather, sufficient to rig the boson’s chair for dearest Dottie to paint the south facing windows, a task planned but frustrated since the spring. Changeable weather brings great difficulty in the jacket department; my boot room has simply layers of outdoor wear some of it belonging to Barons long departed. As I peel back a generation or two and savour the smells of old bad habits I wonder whether or not to ditch the old oilskins, tweeds and wax jackets to make way for modern technologies, perhaps the new Sastia range with the flip down waterproof seat, essential for those moments when one needs to settle on a damp stump for a stiffener, although one does note that political correctness has re designated the special flask pocket to a pouch suitable for a mobile phone. However I am confident that I can squeeze in a new jacket or two to help battle the elements. 

A poor season of stalking and fishing comes to an end, aggravated by swinging restrictions imposed by SERRAD following the English foot and mouth outbreak. The powers that be don’t seem to realize that farmers live to improve harvest and animal welfare, a misguided scheme like the underweight lamb cull is hated in the countryside and misunderstood in the town. Glen Trollaigh must rely heavily on the Tobacco Crop Subsidy to balance the 2007 books, not a happy situation. I have warned the household of general belt tightening for the deep midwinter to come, there has been a bit of stamping and snorting however when the choice comes down to champagne or hot water I expect the womenfolk will to come to heel. For myself I shall be reviewing a few of my regular indulgences to identify any savings.

Travelling seems to be the order of the day and you will find me propping up the famous mahogany bar of the Caledonia Club next week as a nip up to the capital will act a precursor to Scotland’s Euro qualifier and a hint or two for Christmas pressies. What oh, yours aye, Archie, The Baron Trollaigh.