Tuesday, June 26, 2007
Frog March
06/26/2007
Those of you who are familiar with the highways and byways of north Argyll will not be surprised by the sight of dearest Dottie swerving the old motor from side to side in the gloaming at this time of year. Readers will realise that this short swinging slalom is not caused by over application of The Cloudy Bay, rather by the white knuckle concentration required to avoid Frogs and Toads which pepper damp road surfaces after dark. My reason for making this rather personal observation is to emphasise my increasing obsession with the conflict between town and country, in the peace of the library at The Tower of Glen Trollaigh my desk groans with reams of bumph from zillions of departments directing me to obey trillions of controls and regulations, my kingdom is no longer my own. However I will gladly bet a pound to a penny that those bureaucrats who are not ignoring their carbon footprints by jetting off every weekend to their Dorsoduro apartments, are loading their mountain bikes onto the Audi Avant, and through sheer bloody ignorance are flattening every Frog and Toad in Argyll with their ego inflating low profile tyres.
Whilst I am forced to scrub Lysol into the soles of my boots every time I cross the threshold and to walk miles to meet Postie so that his van does not breach my Bio Security Plan, I note with an ironic laugh that after ten years of academic deliberation and PhD spin, The Badger Trust have acknowledged that Brock does transmit Bovine TB in contradiction to the most fundamental Euro Bio Security directive. However we Brits must not do anything to interfere with this expanding and highly dangerous threat, just wait until a few PM’s children are bitten by a pack of rabid badgers and we will see just how quickly a badger cull can be introduced.
Speaking of children, I am told that the curtains remain tightly closed at the ridiculously late hour of 8.00am in Glen Orchy as Granny and Gramps enjoy a well deserved long lie after the departure of the Granddaughter. Certainly the panic phone calls seem to tail off as the week went by, the last one asking how to stop a small girl’s nose bleed, any fool with first aid experience knows that this can easily be achieved with a large metal key and a reasonable length of herring line, however hopefully G and G will stride over the head of the Long Glen some sunny day for a sundowner and tell us about their family week. Yours aye, Archie, The Baron Trollaigh.