Happy Days 2

06/06/2005

At last Monday brings a decent day, Lachie is out early testing and teasing the lawn and after a couple of sunny hours he fires up the Ransomes to perform a surgeon-like first cut of the re-sown sacred turf, watched by Mhairi and myself. Our combined prayers to The Blessed Mary Trollaigh are answered with a machair-like surface, striped in shades of lush green. Lachie mutters that it could be better but it looks bloody marvellous to me. Mhairi throws open all the door and windows of The Tower of Glen Trollaigh letting in lovely sunshine and a northeasterly breeze brings perfect fresh air into even the most gloomy corner. The glen has been surprising quiet over the weekend with hardly a walker or camper to be seen, I suppose it is a combination of poor weather, the end of all the school “half terms” and those May Monday holidays with which in our politically correct age we seem to celebrate everything from the Russian Revolution to Queen Victoria’s Birthday. I did hear one Politico referring to Whit Monday as “The Late May Holiday Monday”, absolutely bonkers! The wet weather has brought the River Trollaigh into good condition and I have been scanning it for any sign of fish. I must be patient as it is a bit early for Salmon on this river, so I can watch the odd group of canoeists or “paddlers” as they seem to call themselves, disturbing all my favourite pools without upsetting the old blood pressure. The Scottish Canoe Club has even identified Glen Trollaigh as a river where more car parking should be provided for “paddlers” exercising their rights under the Land Reform Act, over this Baron’s dead body! To be honest I really do not mind the canoeists, as they do not leave much litter or make much noise, and obviously enjoying the great outdoors, I am only miffed because their shore parties seem to drive at speed up and down the Trollaigh road. They have perhaps not realised that this is not a public road maintained by the council, but patched by yours truly. It would be refreshing if some of them would come and ask permission rather than demand more car parking without consulting the owner, or the “land manager” as the PC poofs have re-christened me. The girls phone later, and with a bossy tone inform me that “Mummy” is coming home to The Tower of Glen Trollaigh tomorrow. This is wonderful news as I am beginning to miss the old bird, even better the girls are put out by my cheery and enthusiastic response, and I feel that they have had a carefully rehearsed lecture to deliver, but I spiked their guns. No flies on this happy old fool! Yours Aye, Archie, The Baron Trollaigh.