Blow the Breeches
05/29/2008
Each year there is a magic moment when The Great Beeches of Trollaigh burst into leaf; this miracle usually takes about thirty six hours, when our magnificent stand of Beeches turn from thrashing twigs to wonderful fresh green and copper monarchs. This year it happened on the 6th of May a mere day after we eventually managed to plant our potatoes into above zero soil, It never ceases to amaze me that immediately after the Beech Bonanza the garden treadmill starts, soil warms, one digs in earnest, grass grows at an alarming rate and weeds shoot from spots that have already been blasted with chemical cocktails. Of course the old eye turns to the outside of the Tower of Glen Trollaigh and all hands are needed to scrape and paint the ancient external woodwork. With some reluctance on my part, the traditional “admiralty grey” signature colour of the Tower of Glen Trollaigh which has served generations of Barons, is giving way to paler coastal greens on the advice of some limp wristed designer. My resistance to the colour change was, naturally enough, proved wrong when on the most recent visit from our European Advisor she insisted on photographing the Tower of Glen Trollaigh in its “marvellous new colour” and endlessly praised dearest Dottie on her superb taste. Leaving yours truly to mutter darkly in the library about tradition.
The mention of important visitors and The Great Beeches of Trollaigh brings to mind the spring visit of some Maharajah to my Mother and Father when the governor was briefly in the diplomatic corp. The last Baron had been walking through arboreal monarchs with the afore-said Nabob, whose grasp of English was imperfect and misunderstood the significance of the trees, later referring to my mother as The Great Bitch of Trollaigh, as quick as a flash she retorted; “Your highness, you are mistaken; it is the Trollaigh men who wear The Great Breeches!”
Our visit from the European Advisor proved slightly downbeat as the usual guest list of freeloading MSPs and Councillors backed out to a man following the threat of a slow moving convoy of fuel protestors, although how traffic can become more slow moving I know not. However the protest did not materialise due to a lack of fuel and the senior Minister’s helicopters could not land at Connel as the CAA have still to licence the airport. Lachie was particularly resourceful and managed to pack out the photo opportunities by dishing out free beer and pies to smelly campers, and by hijacking the bemused passengers of a German tour bus which had taken a wrong turning into Glen Trollaigh and was stuck fast on the River Bridge. The jist of the Advisor’s info was that the emphasis on care of the environment is on the wane and food production is the New Way. With Scottish farmland now breaking through £10,000 an acre it sounds as though the big money boys have the same idea, so the polytunnel brochures are spread out and hoes are being sharpened to ride the new subsidy wave. If only there was a rain cloud on the horizon, for three weeks of dry weather have forced a daily early morning climb to check our water supplies which currently can’t cope with watering veggies, hey ho.
Some of you will have heard of the changes in Glen Orchy where the Kerrs have for years hosted my electronic communications. Plans are afoot to improve this service, however for those wanting to avoid the delay of having their messages delivered in the cleft stick of a native jogging over the Long Glen; I can be reached directly at trollaigh@gmail.com . Yours aye, Archie, The Baron Trollaigh.