Summer Breezes

07/30/2005

I have enjoyed one of the best moments of any Scottish summer. I was up the Alt Trollaigh checking on our water supply because we have not had any rain for ten days. It was warm and dry with a fair breeze blowing from the North, I lay back on a bank letting my mind drift and then I heard it, above the bird song, the chatter of the burn, the buzz of insects, I heard the whistling on-rush of the breeze through the stiff heather and bog myrtle, carrying their fragrance as is flowed past me, quite magical. Back at the Tower of Glen Trollaigh Lachie and I are hacking back some of the BOGIE inspired long grass, indeed it is only a month or so before we must cut back all the parklands. This patch of fair weather has me busy in the gunroom and my fingers itch in anticipation of the start of shooting in two weeks, dearest Dottie is already planning some shooting weekends. As many of you know I rather dread these parties, as they require lots of good behaviour and can often go dreadfully wrong, as a damage limitation exercise I have suggested that we all check the guest lists in advance and stick to them, no last minute changes please. August will bring the girls up from London; with all the problems there, I shall be glad to have them home even if I will have to put up with a number of hopeless boyfriends droning on about bugger all. Speaking of London I must say that the Met, for whom I normally have no affection, do seem to have pulled out all the stops with the current crop of bombers. It is easy, with hindsight, to criticise the odd error, but in general, they should have our wholehearted support. We must ignore the whinging of a few clerics and civil rights wallahs and put up a united and strong front against anyone who tries to blow any of us to bits. Yours Aye, Archie, The Baron Trollaigh.