Tuesday, February 08, 2005
Dame Ellen
02/08/2005
Low clouds running in from the South, some light rain, but the snow has almost all gone for the sixth or seventh time this year. Temperature is plus seven degrees but still feels colder in the wind. Awake to the good news that Ellen Macarthur, or Dame Ellen as she will now be known, has beaten the French by sailing around the world, single handed in 71 days. Although this is a fabulous success, I do fear that this may set off a chain of impossible challenges that will eventually end in a catastrophe. I can clearly remember Sir Francis Chichester, returning in triumph to be knighted by ER2 having completed the same voyage in 277 days, plus one stop! I will not be stuffy and I will raise my Borsalino to honour such a feat and hope that Dame Ellen will live a long and happy life. In a strange way, I dream of such an achievement myself, but I am honest enough to realise that I am fifty years and several million GBpounds light. Every month or so I peruse the yachtie magazines and think of possible purchases, but it is always the voyage that is so vital, rather than the destination, perhaps after all, Dame Ellen’s challenge is the most important consideration. I phone Arichastlich for news; Kim has managed a full day of writing, while Mhairi Katharine has entertained Michele, and travelled to visit Isla at the Post Office and hiked a long way across wild hills to a play park. Fighter jets buzzed the house, Gramps washed the van and with some difficulty, Chicken and Gramp’s homegrown potatoes seemed better than the preferred, but unavailable Pasta. A trip to Edinburgh is planned for tomorrow. Here in Glen Trollaigh, I have at last found a septic soulmate in Davie from Campbeltown who is very sensitive to the problems in The Tower of Glen Trollaigh’s septic systems. Davie is quite obviously an genius, but I am a little unnerved to hear that my magnificent design, along with all modern ideas are doomed, although of course Davie will be available at £80 a pop it sort them out. The game is afoot, and we shall see how many times I have to hand over £80 to Davie! I have promised Ardbeg hospitality for a speedy visit, hopefully bringing dearest Dotty’s fainting fits to an end. Yours Aye, Archie, The Baron Trollaigh.
Monday, February 07, 2005
Tups and Parties
02/07/2005
The wind backs to the south, so it is a forecast of rain. However, apart from a couple of heavy showers it is not too bad, with cloud breaking for a few precious blinks of sunshine, plenty of snow above 1500 feet. But, the southerly wind is stronger than of late, so wind chill is zero degrees, especially when the showers are about to blow through. The baronial JCB is digging all day, with a break to unload horse manure for the garden, kindly sent up from Loch Fyne. Dotty and I have heated discussions about the septic tank problem, and I am rebuked several times for mentioning the details of soil drainage at meal times, but this challenge is consuming my thoughts, as we desperately need an emergency short term solution, as well as a long term re-design. Rather unkindly, Dotty becomes almost hysterical at luncheon, as I enthusiastically unveil my plans to recycle the contents of the blocked and overflowing tank by pumping directly onto the Rose beds. At Arichastlich, Mhairi Katharine comes face to face with some large tups while sheep feeding, fortunately she is sharp enough to grasp that they are a lot more scared of her, than she of them, and quickly takes command. In the afternoon, there is a party with Innis, Callum, Lewis and their parents, from Blackmount and Corryghoil. The party is greatly enjoyed by all, Mhairi beginning declared the ice cream champion, with others scoring well with ham, cheese and potatoes (not all together!). As Easter is not that far away, I hear that chocolate mini eggs proved popular! Back in Glen Trollaigh, I spend the evening in the office paying bills, and realising that I have the accounts to finish off. However, an “very young” Ardbeg will make the task less painful, and as the gales start to shake the Tower of Trollaigh, I know the Great Bed awaits. Yours Aye, Archie, The Baron Trollaigh.