Septics-Are-Us

08/20/2005

My last entry seems terribly depressing and after a glorious Saturday of blue skies and fair weather, I feel a lot more positive. We can still expect a few weeks of good weather and we have many guests to look forward to. I think that being bound to the bloody desk has lowered my morale; however, to-day I spend almost all my time about the policies and working outdoors always lifts my spirits. I have been unable to tramp over the high passes where I can hear the breeze sighing through the heathers and grasses. But I have struggled with honest labour in the garden where much to my delight our surge of guests has brought a considerable surge of back pressure in the number two septic tank, so I was able to spend an peaceful if smelly afternoon plunging and scooping tank residue, whilst redesigning and improving the soakaways, Ah the simple pleasures. A few inches of rain have not improved the fishing; however, I have heard the odd gun shot, hopefully outwith our boundaries for not only are our deer stocks plentiful, but also they are in good condition and no culling is required for a week or two. I hear good news on the radio as the Body Mass Index so often quoted by my GP is now meaningless. Apparently, we must consider our girths, 40 inches for a man, and as the baronial tum reaches only 38 inches, I am once again a fit chap.  Dearest Dottie was a little alarmed as I called for a tape measure while relaxing with a morning cuppa in the Great Bed of Trollaigh this Saturday morning, I may be imagining things but I feel she was a little disappointed with my explanation. Of course, my only remaining vice is the enjoyment of strong drink, which does contribute to the fuller figure, but what the hell, cheers! Archie, The Baron Trollaigh.

PS. Hail to that arsehole Tewkesbury, our paths have crossed many times before and I well remember when you were in charge of paper clip counting at the D.O.T. Surely you cannot still hold the seven and sixpence “misunderstanding” against me? Do please note that your incompetence follows you, for by harrassing the poor “Mr B Trollaigh”, you have stamped the wrong file agian. I welcome your visit to the Tower of Glen Trollaigh to yarn away some hours in the Gunroom. Trollaigh.