Quiet weather, dramatic times

01/26/2005

Missed my entry yesterday as I did not make it back to the Tower of Glen Trollaigh until the early hours. Our weather remains settled. Tuesday was cloudy, dry and plus two degrees. To-day the pressure is still high, so no rain, blue skies and plus four degrees with brezze from the east. Heather the weather is back on call and she promises more of the same. I have been deskbound for two days with hardly an momment to lift my head from the ledgers, what a bore. Lachie has hovered solicitously, At last I had to send him out with the pack and I watched in terrible envy as he climbed up the Alt Trollaigh towards the Clach Dubh, with a cannine tumult at his heels, towards the snowline. The dogs obviously enjoying the faster pace of the younger man. Such is loyalty! Mhairi fretted about with coffee and foody treats to contain me in the office. I sneaked out towards the Arbeg, but she acted as prison warder, intercepting my cunning attack. Dearest Dotty, meanwhile has been to Glasgow with Erica to the Highland Trade fair, which I used to enjoy so much in Aviemore twenty five years ago. Then they seem to have been whisked away into a noisy Burns Supper. I have spent some time on the phone with John, who has become an innocent witness to a botched poaching episode at La Mansion du Berger. This is all doubly difficult as accusation and conter-accusation fly around Glen Orchy. These local dramas are such a pain, but so difficult to sort out without generations of vendetta. But my heart goes out to La Berger, who has suffered most terribly for the past two years and is very vunerable without the support of her family. I am reminded of the time when a cousin named his first born son MacIain, apparently unaware that the MacIains had raped his great granmother and burnt the Fourth Baron’s Tower, known as the Wee Column. My Grandfather retreated to the north stair and muttered there for several years, before dispatching the innocent MacIain on a sucide command with the Diamond T. All this drama reminds me of the most wonderful joke about a female Hungarian hurdle champion at the Moscow olympics with a craving for vitamin E, but I could not possibly repeat it “on air”. I wonder if Mhairi is still on patrol? Yours Aye, Archie, The Baron Trolliagh.