Chilli Sherry

05/17/2006

Three weeks have sped past, during which I have been unable to address you, my dears. The first week was spent in the gales and blustery showers of Orkney, the second week, here in the Tower of Glen Trollaigh, lashed by rain, snow and an electrical storm of Wagnerian proportions which flung granite blocks from the castellations and cut us off from the outside world for four days and nights. Finally, again at the Tower of Glen Trollaigh, last week brought three stylists from a leading London Mag to “shoot” the Baronial lifestyle and glorious Glen Trollaigh, the weather certainly turned up trumps with a Mediteraian week of warm sunshine and blue skies.

The green Orkney Isles provided a super holiday, where we were most impressed with the farming of excellent productive ground with all the modern toys and tractors. Orkney enjoys a firm community spirit, everyone prepared to work hard with a leavening of incomers, without signs of the benefit dependant culture so universal elsewhere. Well protected against the wintery weather, dearest Dottie and I ticked most of the tourist boxes and trod a few wonderful cliff top walks. The highlight must be our visit to The Creel Inn at St Margaret’s Hope, with a little name-dropping we managed to secure a “cancellation” and so enjoyed a very comfortable night, dinner and exceptional breakfast for £180 odd, I admit that this also included several G&Ts, at least one bottle of excellent wine and a meal that certainly equalled the best in Europe, all for the price of a starter at The River Café. I cannot recommend this spot more highly, and with the arrival of high speed, high subsidy ferries from Caithness, The Creel should be added to any trip north of Inverness. I feel it only fair to mention Woodwick Hall at the north end, who also provided good food and comfortable accommodation in a wonderful location. However, I do warn against Highland Park whisky, despite our arrival at their invitation, their visitor centre was closed for renovations. With difficulty, I contacted the distillery PR people in Edinburgh who seemed disinterested in rectifying their error, churlishly refusing to refund our ferry fair, all very poor form.

The memory of the London Mag girls who descended on the Tower of Glen Trollaigh last week still sends a shiver down my spine. I had foolishly assumed that they were here to record rural life and times in the North Argyll glens. However, this was not to be as the trio of trollops turned up with a lorry load of cushions, throws and dinner service with which to “dress” the Tower of Glen Trollaigh. Apparently the idea is to tickle an editor’s fancy with a photo of a strategically placed pastel poofee and then to weave an “illusion” around the theme. In my bufferish way I had laid on a squad of bare-arsed ghillies in tweed and kilts to take the trio fishing and shooting, but this was shunned, although a photo of the Glen Trollaigh gold figured Jefferies 16 bore was taken, after the firing pins had been removed for safety. The trio fell out with dearest Dottie when her new multi-million designer garden was axed from the schedule as “too urban”. Even poor old Lachie blanched when asked if the sheep got cold in the winter, too bloody right, my dears! Although, I was surprised at their lack of interest in my famous Chilli Sherry recipe from a domestic science point of view, the trio seemed to make quite a dent in our recently laid down New Zealand white, driving Mhairi mad with demands for hot baths and showers whilst keeping their London hours of midday till two ackemma. I suppose it is a small price to pay for the good PR that might follow their visit, at least it kept the Baronial blood pressure from reacting to the ghastly denial politics practiced by President Blair and his hopeless hoodlums. Yours Aye, Archie, The Baron Trollaigh.