Friday night 8

The pub was full. There were 52 internet cyclists, a swelling crowd of visitors for the footie tournament tomorrow (Saturday) and it being end of term the teachers were in there getting slaughtered.

The cyclists, who came from all over, had met on the internet and then decided to tour from Lands End to John o Groats. Goie - the modern world huh? Of all the colours and shapes of tourist we get - cyclists are probably the least welcome. Highlanders are petrol heads and on single track roads cyclists and petrol heads just aint a good mix. I got into one conversation with a bunch of locals that amounted to a boasting session - tales of bumping cyclists on the wee roads. Being a cyclist myself (well ok - ex cyclist) - I tried to defend the cyclists position but it was a futile effort. Of course all their tales of sending cyclists flying into the heather was bravado - wasn't it?

School had closed at 12:30 - and judging by appearances the teachers had legged it to the pub the minute the bell went. That dash would be the last time they'd have use of their legs for several days. As the bar was full, Jussi and I had to grab a seat where we could - and that was amongst the teachers. We joined them in the middle of a fishing competition. Someone had tied an After Eight wrapper (cue slightly unsettling music) to a straw and the competition seemed to be about dipping said wrapper into each others drinks to the hilarity of all except everyone else in the bar.

Doubtless the After Eights (music starts to build the tension) had been gifted by some ungifted pupil hoping for better marks next term. But for me After Eights (oh god oh god what's going to happen) meant only one thing.

Choccy Foreheads (crashing crescendo). It would be unkind of me to blame Chris for introducing last weekends Mod with Choccy Foreheads. It was my own doing.

Choccy Foreheads involves placing an After Eight on your forehead and then migrating the rapidly melting confectionery to your mouth by means of facial contortions. It is a funny game to play and watch. And I succeeded on the first attempt and was rewarded with cooling mint and smudgy brown face.

Several teachers rushed in to take up the challenge. Unfortunately, excessive alcohol consumption had taken its toll on their coordination and they soon gave up. By 'soon' I mean immediately. They gave up because they couldn't find their foreheads. I wonder if they remembered Choccy Foreheads when they awoke to find their hair matted and pillows encrusted with minty goo. If they do I suspect I've blown Ailsa's chances at school next year.

Neglect

Not been posting too much of late. I'd like to say that this is because I've been working too hard - getting ready for the goats, for Jussi going to Hamburg, and me doing a spot of consultancy, but truth is I've just been wasting my time.

We had a great weekend, alcohol fueled (good beer likeasay) and late nights. And we had a mini Mod, each of us performing little, erm, performances. Really good. And if ever anyone has Chris or Shaun round you must get them to organise a league of match football - really went down well - even Claire who generally snorts at things sports-like got into it.

But now the beer has gone and I've not got a new kit to get started sob sob.

sunrise 04:11, sunset 22:28

Just about recovered from the beer and realising the impact of the shortening days - Aye the nights are fair drawing in - but I've been conned, all these years. June 21st is no longer than June 22 and June 23 - at least according to the widget.

There's a link to piccies of our midsummer on the drunken post below. Thankeee Chris.

shthfunrise 0408 thyunsthet 2229

Gd br. oo ee.
Fshanks shangeworks hic.

Crop envy

I was served gizzards once - with a flourish. We were heading for the Dordogne, and stopped off at a restaurant where gizzards took pride of place. A strange meal. I've often wondered about it since.

Liz - fae doon Haddington way - tells me she is enjoying her home grown cucumbers right now. Well here is a piccy of my cucumbers. It's hard to tell, but I don't think they're ready for harvesting just yet.

Summery forecasts

The weather is also behaving very nicely. Just now it's warm, windy, and sunny - a most uplifting combination. What will it be like tomorrow?

On the forecast on the telly last night I heard the following:
"So Saturday looks like a welcome return of summer with widespread sunshine and light winds"
what I saw on the weather map was England - all clear and good, but the most godawful splat of a dense raincloud covering the whole of Scotland.

No wonder the Scottish Nationalist Party are in the ascendant.

Incompletions

I doubt you can make a noun out of incomplete. But here is a quick list of current frustrations:

• We don't have a holding number with the crofters commission. The previous owners have at least a two step process to go through, and then the crofters commission have to start the process of transfer, which involves inviting stakeholders to comment on our intention to use the croft. We've had heads up that there are rumblings afoot that might make this less than straight forward.
• We still can't connect to the internet and have a phone connection. BT are full of empty promises.
• My kit for the next lot of beer still hasn't arrived. I purchased over £100 worth of stuff over the internet taking advantage of a free delivery option (we have a KW postcode so often get charged Island delivery rates - very expensive), since then I've received nothing but a torrent of excuses.

And we've discovered that hay and straw is very difficult to get hold of up here - what you can grow locally is poor quality on account of the 'moisture in the air' - which I suspect means rain. Most folk who need it import it from the Black Isle and beyond - over 100 miles away.

On the plus side, I've got the gold medal on tanks. 84 in case you're wondering. I'm having lots of fun trying to make a maze out of the stance of whins we have at the back of the cottage. It's not a designed maze - there are several small trees hidden in there and I'm cutting the gorse to make a track to the trees and making little clearances to give the trees a bit of space to thrive. Eventually one of these tracks will lead down to the steam at the bottom.

sunrise 04:08, sunset 22:29

Eeeking out the extra minutes. Tomorrow is the soltice, we'll have friends, a fire and food. Then it'll be downhill from there on in!

I want to capture the juxtaposition of the rising and setting sun but I think maybe I'm too old for that sort of thing.

Rebecca arrives tonight and I'll open the beer!

Phenotypic plasticity

It's a beautiful morning - I was awake early and rather than lying there I crept out of bed got dressed and headed to the croft for a spot of weeding. The sun was already quite high - but it was very still and the midges did their best to protect the weeds - but I stuck at it.

Phenotypic plasticity is the remarkable ability of most plants to change the way they look according to environmental conditions. I'm discovering how good thistles are at phenotypic plasticity. There are lots of thistles on my veg patch and it's difficult to get out the whole root. Each time you pull a thistle (and half it's roots) it will grow back a little bit pricklier until they grow masses of really prickly big prickles that can penetrate even the most prickle proof gardening glove. Picking prickly thistles with prickle proof gloves must have a tongue twister in it somewhere.

A somewhat less charitable example of phenotypic plasticity was on display on Monday night when the Crofters Commission came to town for a public meeting. The main discussion for the evening was the Shucksmith report into the future of crofting, which I've commented on previously. It was good to be at a meeting of crofters and hear from them that they felt most of the recommendations were rubbish. They also felt they had not been properly consulted and that the report had been overly influenced by people who don't croft.

One of the recommendations of Shucksmith is that the Crofters Commission be abolished. Now I've never heard ANYONE have a good word for the Crofters Commission - useless interfering pen-pushers is the best I've come across - until that is, someone suggests abolishing it - suddenly it becomes (with all it's faults but) a shining example of compassion and understanding of crofters needs.

But what Shucksmith really seems to have got wrong is the creation of a network of 'local crofting boards' that would have the powers to evict crofters from their land (not their homes) if the board felt that the crofters weren't crofting. The Board would also have the power to decide who the land should go to - potentially overruling the heritable rights that crofters have had for generations. This is not going down well.

Now to bore you with nuances - there are two ways crofters occupy land - one is an assured tenancy for which they pay an annual rent to the land owners, two is for the land to have been bought from the landowner under a tenants right to buy. Shucksmith proposes that these powers should cover even purchased land, so some crofters are facing the prospect of buying the land but then being told how they can use it and even being evicted from it. As one old lady remarked "Have we learned nothing from Communism?"

But it is a very real dilemma. Crofting is symbolic of Scottish resilience, hardiness (and oppression) and politically very important. The Government wants to protect it as a sort of window into the past. But it don't stack up - crofting doesn't pay. You can't protect a way of life that doesn't exist anymore (on several occasions I've heard old folk say 'In the old days we wanted for nothing'. (what no mobile phones/ playstations / washing machines??) It was repeated again at the meeting.).

Much of Shucksmith is trying to work out how to ensure that crofts continue to be worked - the answer is simple - money. If you make it pay to be a crofter then there'll be crofters. But then again if you make it pay it wont be crofting anymore because the essence of crofting was subsistence farming - that romantic ideal doesn't exist - except in the minds of idiots like me. But it could be made to pay - if there was a proper sustainable food strategy that recognised the importance of local food. And that, we hope, will come.

We have a field of thistles.

Silence of the lambs

Who the f*** thought of this as a film title? Lambs aren't silent.

Nor is the RAF. They're on a mission this morning bombing somewhere west of us and our silence is being punctuated by deep booming rumbles. This is a little worrying as as far as I'm aware the nearest bombing range is a good 30 miles away. There's low cloud cover so maybe the sound is being reflected - but it seems a long way for the sound to travel. Maybe they've just got the wrong bay and are bombing the shit out of some poor tourists. Oh well - a bit of a shame I guess.

Still it's good of the RAF to be so sensitive to the delicate economy up here - much of which relies upon the tourists who come all this way for peace, quiet and the unspoilt. The MOD are in the bad books up here anyway - having accidentally destroyed 350 acres of habitat a couple of weeks ago as a result of playing with tracer bullets (contrary to advice from SNH) - the resultant fire destroyed many coastal and inland habitats including blanket bog that will take a decade to recover, oh and just a few nesting rare birds.

Still we have to protect our oil supplies eh? Sorry I should have said we have to protect democracy and our right to 42 day detention without trail and to be spied upon by any jumped up local official who decides to poke in uninvited.

Rubbish school

I need a new word to describe things that happened but I didn't put in the blog - those interstitial things that fall through the gaps. Suggestions welcome.

It was parents evening at the school last week. Got to have a little chat with Teach. All seemed OK - but I have to say that I'm sorely disappointed.

Yesterday I got to walk down to the shop with Ailsa to pick up a sunday paper (as usual), read it in relative peace (as usual), cook the main meal of the day (as usual, except that today it was that great Scottish classic - Sausage Stovies - a necessary meal as Jussi had bulk-purchased sausages last week (BOGOF)) and watch the footy (Turkey: Czech - good stuff).

There were no cards, no special treats or anything. This is not an omission that Dunbar Primary school would have tolerated. They made sure that all occasions such as Fathers Day were properly and reverentially celebrated with beautifully crafted presents and cards made in school time.

Very poor show and nul points for the new school.

Movements

On the topic of movements - things are happening. In the last few days we've engaged a fencer, a builder and a joiner to get things ready for the goats. Yesterday we went to see a goats cheese lady over east, and although she was quite cagey and protective about many things, we learnt quite a lot.

Yesterday was also our first visit to Wick. Wick is quite nice, in a Scottish- town- that's- seen -better- days sort of way. It proudly boasts of being the birthplace of someone who's name I've forgotten who did someone remarkably insignificant which I've also forgotten. The nearby village of Watten, however, was the birthplace of Alexander Bain, the inventor of the electric clock.

Thurso - Wicks bitter rival (people from Thurso refer to people from Wick as 'dirty wickers'), was the birthplace of William Smith - the Founder of the Boys Brigade.

"Someone should" write an A-Z of all British - ach hell let's get ambitious - of all place names in the world with two sentence biographies of the famous people each place has spawned. It would be entitled "The concise pocket book of famous people", be marketed as an essential travel companion, and come in at around 15 volumes, foolscap.

Apparently foolscap is a 17th century term and refers to a type of paper that was watermarked with a jesters cap.

Next time I must take my camera.

Sharing 2

One consequence of shutting the cats outside to stop them using our home as a toilet is that word has got round every mouse, vole and shrew for miles that this cottage is a cat-free haven. Being a fairly messy household they are fulfilling a useful role in cutting our electricity consumption - we don't need to vacuum so much - they eat anything that falls to the floor.

No doubt they have toiletry needs too - but we've not noticed it yet. I think the cats will be allowed in again soon.

sunrise 04:08. sunset 22:26

The light around midnight is quite special. I'm not sure that my skills with the camera will do it justice - but I will try.

Midsummer is next week. I'm looking forward to cracking the beer. And we'll have visitors too, which I'm really looking forward to. Even the vegan.

Friday night 7

Unexpected consequences
Spanish lorry drivers. They've been striking this week over the price of fuel. The small-time fishermen up here are also being hammered by diesel prices and last night one was claiming that he can't catch enough lobsters to cover the fuel costs of getting them. But a bigger concern for him was the Spanish lorry driver strike - because he sells his lobsters etc onto Spanish lorries and they've not turned up this week. That's a weeks income lost with no drop in out-goings.

It seems to me that the real problem here is a cultural one. We seem to be the oven ready chip generation. There is no local market for the stunning produce these guys are bringing ashore. I imagine that oven ready chippers would scream the place down if confronted by proper food like a live lobster (well I know I would!). If our fishermen could sell from the quayside, or from local shops the price of diesel and revolting foreigners wouldn't be such an issue.

There were some oven ready chippers in the pub last night. A swollen throng of teenage girls were flumping around getting mars bars and diet cokes (I mean diet coke for heavens sake). Unusual for females to be in that bar - and there were two lots last night - shock horror.

And we have new bar staff. A Polish lad. Totally out of place. Apart from his lack of English, and you have to admire his bravery coming all this way to serve behind a bar when his total grasp of English amounts to a grin which stretches from one ear to the other and back again and apologetically fluttering eye-lashes, apart from that - he's a mirror moth. You know that type of young man fatally attracted to admiring himself at every opportunity - sharply dressed and agonised-over hair. I suspect he was part of the reason for the abundance of oven ready chippers last night.

I wish him luck. My god he's gonna need it.

Burning issues

The problem with the Irish referendum, and the whole issue around the European constitution and stuff - is that no one understands it No-one really seems to be selling the benefits and this makes the no vote inevitable - and the no campaigners can dredge up all kinds of issues with Europe, in the main not related to the constitution, making the no vote even more certain. This is a lack of leadership and poor leadership is rife across the democratic world (as far as I can see, and I confess that isn't really very far - but why should such detail stop me from making sweeping statements?).

And for all that it smacks of being vainglorious (whichever definition of that you choose (a reference to this - but I can't make it easy for you)), I admire David Davis for his stance over the 42 day detention and I believe he is right to try to generate a proper debate about freedom.

And then there's this madness.

Above all of this is the question of how many tanks you need to destroy on Wii Play to get a gold medal. I managed 79 during the week and still no gold medal. I'll battle on, selflessly, of course. And I shall prevail. But it is getting a tad time-consuming.

Lost

There is a railway station in Lairg (about an hours drive from here and the best place to pick up the train if you want to public transport to Inverness). Lairg is noted as a stopping point for the trains between Inverness and Wick on all the timetables. Lairg isn't very big. But I can't work out where the trains stop - I mean - where is the train station in Lairg? I've looked, driven through it, round it and across it, but there is no evidence of railway lines or station.

Can blue men sing the whites?

You have to hand it to Jussi really. She is flat out at the moment trying to organise everything for our goats - due in July. She's up against a ridiculous timeline but is just knuckling down and getting on with it. I'm helping where I can of course.

What Jussi is demonstrating is the power of vision. Knowing what you want to achieve. It is more than half the battle.

Meanwhile I'm hiding in little projects - like the garden, the house, the beer - and not really progressing a vision of my own, because, ermm, well, I don't have one. I'm beating myself up over this at the moment - I do need to paint myself a picture of what I'm going to do and go for it (and 'it' is singular). Just now I'm flirting rather half arsedly with too many maybes.

It'll come good, but it's depressing me just now. So I take refuge in the deliciously silly.

Modern crofting

Will it come to this for us?

Windy water weather

So at last our home is showing it's true colours. Wind and rain. Much more, just now, of the former than the latter. It's OK - I'm not complaining.

I seem to have come across a lot of references to weather recently.

When neighbour was round talking of fences we were picking his brains for what might grow where on our little croft. He professed to having no idea - 'It's all changed - can't predict the weather anymore, things happen at the wrong time of year - we used to get snowed in during lambing, but the last few years it's been shirt sleeves weather, and the wind - it used to be north-westerly just about all the time - now you never know where it's going to come from. I can't suggest things you could grow - Things keep happening at the wrong time of year. I don't know anymore' This guy has been crofting all his life - his family came here with the Clearances.

Then there's little snippets - like this.

And there's drought in New Zealand causing an energy crisis cos the hydro is drying up. And in Ethiopia and in India - just a few more million people queueing up for hand-outs after another crop failure (In Northern India the rains have failed for the last five years).

This is climate change. It's real, it's killing people and it is caused by you. And if you stop buying crap you don't need you might just help others to do the same, and this might just stop climate change getting really silly and killing billions. (Look for Working Group 2 report "Impacts, adaptation and vulnerability" and choose the Summary for Policy Makers in your preferred language. It looks heavy - page 13 contains the fun stuff. And remember - these reports are cautious).

But don't despair. If you start doing something now we can avoid the worst. Now.

Strimming

You know there's something manly about pulling that starter cord and the splut and roar as the strimmer coughs into action. And then there's the thrill of cutting down all that dense growth. Ah ha!

This lasts about ten seconds. Then it's just a chore. I spent more than two hours strimming yesterday - and came up with the following top ten strimming songs:

"No strimmin' no cryin'" - Bob Marley
"Black magic strimmer" - Santana
"You only strim when you're winning" - sports fans everywhere
"Got to strim there" - Jackson 5
"Strimming up that Hill" - Kate Bush
"Strim your own hole" - Chemical Brothers
"Cry me a strimmer" - Julie London
"Ten strimmer love song" - Stone Roses
"Your strimmer is big enough for me" - Catfish Keith
"Strimming Doctor What What" - Red Snapper

Now you might think that I could have made this list much funnier. But I had a constraint, all the songs I chose had to remind me of girlfriends. Well it wiled away the time.

It's now Monday - and it's raining (a bit) - first time for weeks.

Sunrise 04:12, Sunset 22:19

And continuing boiling hot and virtually midge free.

Friday night 6

Nothing noteworthy - just one of the drunken locals lecturing us on the relative merits of Ashanti gold weights.

Really.

Mod, moths, mozzarella, and Mach

Mod
The first concert I ever went to was The Who. I was about 9 or 10, and can still remember Pete Townsend's windmill and Roger Daltry swinging the microphone. Unfortunately Keith Moon made no impression on me at all. Which is a shame, I'd love to go back and see it again and watch Keith Moon's antics.

Toaday Ailsa sang at the Mod, as part of her school choir, competing against one other school (with the same music teacher - how quaint). I'd love to be able to tell you that the performances of the song celebrating the joys of a May morning were moving. Alas.

It's remarkable how SERIOUSLY it was all taken. 2 performances, 2 judges, each judge stood up and pronounced on the strengths and weaknesses of each performance, musical interpretation, accuracy of the gaelic etc for five minutes. Anyway Ailsa's lot lost - not having not pinned down the gaelic well enough.

Moths
Then we sped off to Borgie Forest for national moth day, and were treated to the excitement of opening a moth trap that had been set last night. This part of the event was fabulous and we saw all kinds of moths including stunningly spectacular hawk moths, beautiful carpet moths, prominants, pugs and many many more (like that's enough showing off about how much I know about moths - but it's important to record it now - I'll have forgotten it all tomorrow).

After a slide show we traipsed off into the wilds looking for moths. But the fresh water mussels, toads and dragon flies stole the show. I think Mr Moth was a bit peeved - I mean he certainly knew his subject, considering there are thousands of moths and many of them look very similar and he's only been studying them for a couple of years - and us all getting excited over a few toads.

We came home and I did a bit of gardening. Look at the piccies - I have lettuce and spinach and much more - and Lulu has given me some kale and lupin and it's all good. I cleared nettles away from the gooseberry and currant and found another toad. And there was a lizard in the cats water this morning - (this sounds like it should be some portent - I wonder what?).

Aye when there's lizards in the cats watter
It'll end with a splatter

So I'm hitting the red wine - you can't be too careful.

Mozzarella
And look at Jussi's door. She made this weeks ago - her first bit of carpentry, using reclaimed wood. It opens and it shuts and it even fits. A grand achievement.

Then it was time for pizza using Mozzarella made by Jussi on her cheese course. Another fabulous achievement.

Mach
There are things that we decide not to do, omit to do, forget to do, don't get round to doing, delay doing, can't be bothered doing and can't face doing.

Shaving for example. I hadn't shaved for a couple of weeks, and frankly the itchy mass was driving me nuts, so Today was the Day. And boy it hurt. So it was a slow process trying to spare myself the ripping pain of shredding my face off.

Unsurprisingly it gave me time to contemplate consumerism. I have a two blade razor - had it for years, in fact when I got it I seem to recall the innovation of having two blades was quite cutting edge (ouch). The blades for it have been discontinued now - cant buy them anywhere. Fortunately Jussi came across a shop selling them off cheap a couple of years ago and bought a stock of them. But when that stock exhausts what will I do? God forbid that I'm faced with the possibility of a five blade gillette mach wank. It's a perfect metaphor for the obscenity of consumerism - the stupidity of the notion that anyone needs a jet powered five blade razor. Mach my arse.

Hair is another things altogether. Ailsa wont let me cut mine. It is getting rather long. I mean we'll soon be talking pony tail here guys. Aaargh.

Finding me

I'm desperately trying not to become obsessed with how many people visit this blog. But it is important to me to know that a small (and growing) and loyal readership is out there. Some people chance across me by accident through a google search. Here are few examples of the things people have googled and ended up here. I hope they weren't disappointed:
"egg mayo"
"What should my priorities be" ( this person spent a goodly bit of time on the site - I wonder if it helped them?)
"building a lizard cage"
"cabbage recipes from Scottland" [sic]

Sadly, I mean very very sadly, I tried googling egg mayo to find out where this blog appeared. Jussi was calling me a sad git all the while, so I may have missed it, but I gave up at 956.....

Names

There's a neurosis I developed when I was a chief executive - it was a neurotic fear of upsetting people. This phobia developed because I found it incredibly easy to upset people - by saying something remarkably innocent - but then having a tormented member of staff, or usually their manager, at my door expressing disbelief at my crass insensitivity.

That is why this blog tends not to name people. Where people are named it's because the name itself adds something to the story, or because I've got careless. When I understand the local relationships better I'll perhaps become more confident.

We've just had a meeting with our neighbour discussing fencing. We got on to general chat and we were asking about who could help to renovate our outbuildings. The advice included speaking to: "Turkey", "Heep" or "Loppy". With so many people sharing only 2 surnames, and a general conservatism over the choice of first names, nicknames are essential. But it does somewhat baffle the incomer. Neighbour said "Loppy" - we gave him that look to say "Loppy" isn't a useful piece of intelligence for us, and he said, "Ah sorry, Angus, Angus Crow", Jussi wrote it down "You'll find him in the phone book under Mackay."

Nicknames are one thing, but multi-layered nicknames add another dimension altogether.

New pets

Jussi is back with a boxful of cheeses she made on her course. And who goes to a cheese making course in Plockton? Jussi, a lady from Stirling, a gent from Nigeria, and an Australian mother and daughter. Cor that's international innit.

But we now have some new pets - big lumps of stuff that need to be kept warm and turned every two days and then put away somewhere cool for a few weeks. They should be ready for eating in October. Meanwhile we have a fridge full of young cheeses and yoghurts tht need eating now. Yum yum.

Cask is doing fine. We tested him last night and the sugar I added has made a very big difference. It's much sweeter now - and it definitely needs to be left to finish that secondary fermentation. It's a shame cos the weather is absolutely perfect for sitting outside with pint. But it's probably for the best.

I didn't sleep very well last night. I have to go to Thurso for the grocery shopping today - I think the excitement kept me awake.

I've been hit

I've got an analytics program that runs in the background of this blog. It means I can see how many visitors I'm getting, where they're coming from and stuff - well it keeps me amused.

Yesterday my visitor numbers doubled. This is why: http://stonehead.wordpress.com/2008/06/01/10-crofting-blogs/

A useful resource for anyone interested in modern crofting.

Self Control 2

It's really very very nice beer. So I dived into the web and spent £100+ on more beer kits and accessories (it is really important to accessorise - Trinny and Suzanna said so). I'm so excited. But please don't tell Jussi.

We are less than 6 weeks away from the arrival of goats. Mama Mia!

June 1st

Was glorious - just a hint of breeze to keep the midges at bay - I spent most of the day sitting on the greass reading the Sunday Papers. A perfect day. And I didn't touch the beer!

Self Control

Of course Daniel is right - it is all about self control. But fuckit I haven't come all this way to exercise self control have I? The beer is fabulous. Very crisp, hoppy and refreshing. Ailsa and I went for a run in the van (we have to run the van about once a week to keep the battery charged - well it's an excuse anyway). We went to Strathy Point, Melvich and Portnaskerray.

The highlight of the trip was Ailsa taking her shoes off at the top of the cliff - one shoe inevitably rolled down the grassy cliff and stopped, tantalisingly, at the edge of a 40 ft drop - I had to use my best commandful dad voice to stop her running after it. I think I stayed remarkably calm under the circumstances - she was out of reach and she'd started to run after it when from my inner recesses arose commandful dad voice and halted her. When I caught up with her she insisted she could retrieve said shoe - in socks on wet grass. No chuck. I sent her to safety and stared down the precipice wondering if it was worth orphaning Ailsa for the sake of a shoe.

It's all about risk assessment innit? Likelihood of risk, consequences and things to do to mitigate against the risk. Well, the fact that it was her school shoe conquered all and I brought it safely back. It's nice when people are pleased to see you - like when my head resurfaced over the lip of the cliff - Ailsa's face was a picture of delight.

So I deserved the beer when we got back. I think it is as well that I did - cos it made me go back and check the calculation I'd done for working out the amount of priming sugar to add. I'd got it hopelessly wrong so I added more.

I wont touch it again until tonight maybe. But I'll definitely offer it tomorrow when key neighbour comes round to discuss fencing. (Boundary fencing divvy! really!)