The Mad Swallow Family

08/17/2005

The Scottish summer moves towards autumn, in the misty mornings I count fifty or so swallows and house martins balancing on the telephone line, but almost hourly their numbers seem to drop around the Tower of Glen Trollaigh as they head south to be slaughtered by the Wops and Frogs of Europe. The burns start to run white on the glen side for the first time for almost a month and I seem to remember that there was a month of dry weather before that, so all in all a dry, if cool summer with the odd glorious day, a great improvement on 2004. By now we seem to light the lights in the Tower more frequently before bedtime and the Glen Orchy Kerrs tell me that their holiday guests have the central heating set at full blast. My rule of thumb is that we shall not turn on the heat until the midges have deserted us, still some weeks away. My only regret is that this has been the summer that never was. Try as I might I cannot grasp a memory of summer, it flashed passed so quickly, but I do recollect our wonderful trips to Devon and the Outer Isles in the spring with great pleasure. Another sign of the season’s change is our annual visit from the mad swallow family who briefly roost in the front porch for a night or two and terrorise Lachie, the dogs and cats in the farmyard by swooping past attacking fearlessly man and beast at head height. The post is light to-day, for which thank the Lord, as the end of season feeling makes me reluctant to cross swords with my many, and often pathetic correspondents. Here’s hoping for a more challenging day tomorrow. Yours Aye, Archie, The Baron Trollaigh.

PS. A map reference will be furnished for those ignorant or stupid enough to fail to find Loch Trollaigh, perhaps the most principal of west coast lochs to have avoided, so far, the attentions of the vast army of over-class and prats whio have absolutely no conception of survival in the harsh reality of rural Scotland.