Hard Frosts
12/26/2005
A Merry Christmas to one and all! No White Christmas in Glen Trollaigh, but the next best thing with sub-zero temperatures and all the trees, shrubs and grasses covered in inches of hoare frost, absolutely like a Christmas Card scene. A little zephyr blows down from the north and clear blue skies give us sun from midday to four o’clock, complimented by the brightest of stars by night.
A tot up of cards received shows about three hundred, considerably more than we sent out, many thanks to you all. I even received some e-cards, many pretty appalling, however, I did enjoy the charity ones that were so insecure that one could search and find out how much the donation had been, not much in most cases! Thank heaven “newsletters” have fallen from favour following some years of adverse publicity, even our most dedicated hot air merchant sent a humble card without even the tiniest of messages. Although we have subsequently heard that the Mother of this superhuman family has been appointed an English magistrate, so in years to come we can enjoy news of humility, humanity, justice, an OBE, enhanced pension rights and a free car parking space in the centre of a major English city.
The drinks party season is in full swing and I notice a deplorable habit emerging of serving nothing but “bubbles” at these affairs. A tip is to excuse oneself on arrival on account of the chilly weather affecting the old plumbing, then when away from the crowd to try to scout out the contents of the drinks cabinet. On returning to the fray and being proffered a Cava, one firmly asks “Any chance of a Hendrick’s and Tonic, Old Boy?” It works every time, although there are still a few old codgers in Argyll who keep their cabinets locked and the key firmly in the waistcoat pocket, now one is scuppered and forced to swallow the Iberian Antifreeze.
The girls have been trained up to give me a supply of ammunition ever year for my Christmas present, all I have to do is leave an order at the gunmakers and the girls organise the rest. However, it is becoming more and more difficult to do this because of all the bally regulations and licences; even mail order is tricky because the carriers are refusing to handle explosives. On my last visit to the Clegg’s shop, I suggested that they sell gift vouchers for all the bits and pieces that go with sporting firearms, this idea seemed to go down well, but they have done nothing. I have been speaking to someone in the book trade who rubs their hands with glee at the mention of gift vouchers which seem to account for some huge percentage of their turnover, then half the punters never come back to redeem them! Reminds me of the heady days of Bearer Bonds in the Far East banks, which if one held on to for long enough where worth a fortune, but most oafs seem to light cigars with them and lose the lot. Of course, I have received some wonderful presents over the years, many of great expense, and many simple and beautiful gifts from my children, reviewing one’s journey through the years is my greatest joy at Christmas and I can recall many highlights. I suppose Lucinda Graham-Edwards takes the biscuit for her gift in 1951, in those days I did not know that was possible! I wonder what ever happened to the dear, I remember that her father was fabulously well heeled, but the duffer could not tell a Green Hackle from and Ali Shrimp, such a waste. Yours Aye, Archie, The Baron Trollaigh.