Trollaigh Spawn

03/09/2007

In the seventeen hundreds Captain Timothy Trollaigh was fairly whizzing back and forth across the Atlantic with cargos of slaves, timber and spices, I must be extremely non PC by admitting that this profitable enterprise was to lay the foundations of Trollaigh Shipping known to one and all as The Diamond T. When retirement from the sea became preferable to some distant gaol, Squire Timothy had the good sense to buy up a bit of Devon not far from Salcombe rather than return to the discomfort of the north Argyll glens. Trollaigh Cove still remains with some distant relatives, proving to be an excellent investment as a site for a small tent will set you back £3.2 million in those parts. Incidentally I learnt the other day of some salty tar who had spent a couple of years cruising round the globe could not believe his misfortune when his long awaited UK landfall at Salcombe cost him a £25 fine from the harbourmaster for anchoring overnight in the Salcombe estuary. Welcome home to the land of the free, old boy!

There now seems to be some effort by the media to cash in on the 200th anniversary of the abolition of slavery. Moody and misty video backs a fettered column humming earthy spirituals to attract viewers to yet more lower budget TV rubbish. The feel good factor is strong, with the majority of white folks well into the comfort zone of forgiveness from strongly featured, ethnically garbed Afro Caribbeans. I must stress that in no way do I endorse slavery of any sort, double standards seem to abound amongst the media pigs as it is considered fair to report anti-capitalist, anti-development eightieth century wallpaper, yet ignore girls sold to-day for £2000 in a Heathrow car park, for a life of scivving or worse in Newton Mearns. Even with my basic grasp of economics 1700s pennies are more than a match for devalued 21st century Heathrow pounds.

Here in the reality of Glen Trollaigh weather fronts whip in from the Atlantic bringing stinging rain and sleet, and the snow line dips back towards the garden. Yet in between the blasts we have lovely early spring sunshine, frog spawn fill the ponds, Oyster Catchers move onto the banks of the Alt Trollaigh, frog dodging becomes a driving skill and a total eclipse of the moon gives a five year winter sky extravaganza. Who would wish to be anywhere else in the world, well one must admit that the traditional spring digging out of the septic tank soak away becomes a little tiresome. Yours aye, Archie, The Baron Trollaigh.