August Storms

08/24/2005

A very stormy night forces a 2.00am tour of the buildings with Lachie, naturally nothing will do but that the pack of assorted hounds accompany us, their ears streaming out in the 50 mph Southerly, Lachie and mine are heavily protected by earflaps and woolly bunnet. Our worries are groundless, as the old Tower of Glen Trollaigh and the home farmhouse have withstood many a wilder night. The odd break in the tearing clouds give spectacular views of the waterfall on MacDonald’s ridge, 2000 feet above us, blowing straight up to the stars and we can hear, above the roar of the Alt Trollaigh and the River Trollaigh, three trees fall somewhere further up the glen. Lachie, the dogs and I retire to the Boot room for a dram or two to ward off any chill. Lachie seems content to stay with the bottle for an extended weather watch as I make my way through a draughty Long Gallery to the Great Bed of Trollaigh and the warm comfort of a protesting dearest Dottie. By 8.00am Lachie, hounds and I make a wider sweep to check on the sheep flock who as usual are well tucked into good shelter against the still gale force winds and occasional heavy shower, thunder rumbles in the distance. The highlight of the next few days will be a rare visit from The Rev. Mungo Trollaigh, my very elderly Uncle, and my Aunt Morag; these two wonderful Trollaighs have selflessly dedicated their long lives to missionary work in Sub-Saharan Africa. As a family, we earnestly believe that our relatives have made a substantial difference to the education and expectations of the young girls under their care, and always give generously to support Mungo and Morag in the “Trollaigh Young Ladies Bush Schools” programme. Aunt Morag is beautiful, disarming and as black as the ace of spades, dear Uncle Mungo is commanding, mischievous and adores his visits to the glen and I hope for good company, wit and sport, of course both of our girls love them dearly and I relish a wonderful long weekend ahead. Yours Aye, Archie, The Baron Trollaigh.