Thrawst

I was lying in bed this morning listening to the sheets of snow sliding off the roof. Ah the thaw at last. Then it started to rain - oh yuk - still it should speed up the thaw. Then the rain started to sound hard - I mean hard, not heavy. Ah. More snow. No thaw. And now it's freezing again so I've decided to invent a new word for a frozen thaw. Oh and the wind has picked up too - so even if it is warmer - which I doubt - it feels a lot colder.

Due to the kindness of neighbours we got our hay yesterday. It was more adventuresome than we had anticipated on account of the hay being in a barn whose doors were frozen shut and whose hay was hidden behind a clatter of clutter (can you give a collective noun to a noun of collection I wonder?).

We even had a snow plough yesterday. And this morning a local JCB has been out trying to clear the roads a bit more - though I still don't think we'll be venturing out for a few days yet - the compacted re-frozen ice turns it's nose up at a smattering of salt 'n' grit unless there's a decent amount of traffic to drive it in.

In another world...

Yesterday I ventured to the shops and as a special winter treat bought myself a Guardian. This is a treat we don't allow ourselves very often and I think it is over a year since I sat and read this rag. We get the Sunday Herald - it has a mildly intelligent and leftist leaning opinion section - and a TV section that is usually correct.*

Anyway - reading the Guardian was such a joy.**

So here are some random facts I gleaned from yesterday's paper:

On December 14th, worldwide, the on-line store Amazon sold 110 items per second.

And British internet start-up company onenewspage is supposed to taking on Google in the arena of free on-line news services. Maybe. But ha! - you try finding onenewspage by googling it - you wont get very far cos google have stopped tracking it.

And the networking site Facebook now has over 350 million users and expects this to be over 500 million by the end of 2010.

And there I was going to launch into a tirade about the power these seemingly innocent companies are being handed as we lemmings throw ourselves at their mercy. Myself included. But tirade is off cos Jussi wants to talk doors. Is this a metaphor?

*One really irritating aspect of life in Scotland is how BBC Scotland screw up the TV schedules, randomly and thoroughly illogically and .... rant rant rant

**I mean don't get me wrong - I love Scotland and a' - I've been here nigh on 25 years - but Scotland is too small a market to be able to produce anything of the standard of the English broadsheets

's no hay

Surrounded by farms and crofts as we are, there's very little hay to be had. Well there's hay - but it's moving it that's the problem - and there seems to be only one person with a tractor good enough to cope with the snow - and he's obviously in demand. Where are we in the pecking order I wonder?

Anyway - we can have the hay if we can move it. That is progress.... and we have wheelbarrows ...........

Meanwhile the snow looks pretty - our road is impassable to posties, snow ploughs (apparently anyway), and bin men*. We never fill our bins - except at Christmas, and indeed in the run up to Christmas when we decide to have a clear out in advance of visitors. The bins over-floweth... and the sea steams.

*but I'm sure wheelbarrows will be fine.

Hay snow...

... and other Beatles puns.

How lovely that the snow should fall and the ground freeze and the rain come and the ground freeze and thaw and freeze and snow and freeze....

I'm not sure who it is lovely for. With the outside pipes frozen Jussi's feeding and milking goats is a slip slide show carry heavy pails of water. Ice rink. Yesterday I spent a while chipping away at the ice - it's about 3 or 4 inches thick of solid ice - chipping away at it so at least the surface is rough, but last night it thawed a bit, rained, and then froze again this morning - so it's all nice and smooth again. And now it is snowing - masses of snow lying over the top of ice rink. It'll make it easier to walk on for a while at least.

For many days now, Jussi has been saying - she just wants it to warm up, for the snow and ice to go away.

And now we are getting low on hay. This isn't bad planning on our part - there's only so much hay we can handle at once. We stocked up in advance of the holiday but have been unable to get out to replenish supplies. So there's an anxious daily watch of weather websites - it's due to thaw tomorrow and then freeze again. I'll try to spent today clearing the drive of ice - so if it looks as though the roads will be clear we can get out. But we cant get out today - and the snow is falling heavily - making it less likely for the roads to be clear tomorrow, and hindering my attempts to clear the drive.

So we've started cutting whins to eek out the hay, but it's no replacement really.

Yule tide

Many of you wont have received an Xmas card from us yet sorry. Ahem.

So there I was, yesterday, slaving away in the kitchen, up to my ears in turkey and cranberries and all sorts of other delights when Jussi came in from having been up at the croft. There's a flood. I need your help. Everybody.

Thus we all slipped and skidded* our way up to the croft to see what was to be done. It was clear to me that the best thing I could do was show people where the stop cock was and then return to the kitchen - cos the food was at a bit of a crucial stage. I felt guilty about this, but really there was little to be done. It was pitch black, chuffin freezin, and really what was there to do? Watering goats and washing milking machines would have to be done by bringing water up from the cottage in the morning - sight that would make Buster Keaton proud for its comedy values, but there was nothing else to be done.

An hour or so later. Christian returned and modestly announced that it was fixed. Eh? How did you do that?!?!?!

Well - he found a bit of redundant piping with a value attached, took the valve off and attached it in front of the leaking pipe. I mean obviously I could have done that, and indeed I was about to until I remembered the turkey was blackening in the oven ... ...

Christian the heroic.

But with temperatures due to drop below minus 12 again soon (and that is on the coast) - we're worried about a repeat performance - and Christian has returned home and I'm not due to cook a turkey for months so no excuse for me next time.

* We've had freezes and thaws and freezes of thaws and the whole place is a friggin lumpy ice rink.

Christmas fear

Yo ho ho. Bored with filling the house with smoke every time we lit a fire we decided to call the chimney sweep. He was really nice and helpful and friendly and always had a reason why he couldn't make it this week and that and eventually stopped answering his phone. The other sweep, based in Wick, never returned our calls.

So we embraced the soot and bought the kit. Reading around the subject it seems that all sensible people sweep from the top, having sealed the fireplace. Here is Jussi executing this technique.

I wasn't allowed to try this - honestly I did try, but Jussi wouldn't let me - I'm not so good with heights you see. So Jussi did it. She's good with heights - but this terrified her. It's a whole lot higher than it looks, and fully extended ladders bounce a lot and the angles are all wrong and the sun was shining in her eyes and... ... ... Jussi the heroic.

Next time we'll brush up and deal with the mess.

dot dot dot

Our nearest met office weather station recorded -9C at 8am this morning. Fortunately it's now (11am) warmed up to minus 8C. But of course it is warmer here cos we're nearer the coast - but still cold. The water hasn't frozen in the house yet - but the outside tap has frozen - so the morning and evening goat chores are very hard. Buckets of water meant for the goats are snatched by jack frost of you're not nimble enough.

The school has been closed by the weather for two days and we are getting very low on wood and food. A power cut now would leave us very cold and hungry. We had a power cut on Saturday which meant writing christmas cards by candlelight - which was quaint but things is getting serious now.

Earth's rotation

Eeeh it got cold this week. Proper frosts like, with real frozen pipes up at croft. Only for a day or so - now it's settled to just being cold rather than eeeh cold!

The cold was briefly interrupted by warm winds from the north west but then the cold southerlies came in to chill us once again. Sic. Up-side-down eh?

Meanwhile The Girl is insisting that we call the full moon a dragon moon. So here is the dragon moon peeking through the trees up at the croft.

Back at the ranch we are making a concerted effort at making a concerted effort to get the house tender out. Nothing will stand in our way.

Much.

Bad parenting

The Girl has been off school for a couple of days - eventually we kept her at home after she returned from school with tales of being told she should be at home by her teacher. I always think though - it's far warmer in school than at home and she's better off in the warmth.

Sunday was the first Sunday of advent. Not an occasion that has ever meant anything to me, but Jussi's family celebrate it - lighting a candle and such. To add to that Christmassy feel we had our first snow which I rushed out to capture on camera. But I needed a subject, and a snotty girl was the nearest to hand. Not a bad piccy - in that it shows you what it was like. It's called "Dicing with pneumonia".

Weather

What with all the flooding everywhere it seems incredibly churlish to complain about the amount of water we've had falling from the sky of late. Everything is getting very wet and it's not nice. The old stable has a slightly leaky roof - we've patched in places and this keeps the water in check most of the time - until the day when we replace the whole roof - but all this rain is beating our repairs. And everything is all rather sodden.

It has been quite windy too. Not madly, just irritatingly. But the thrill is it gave me a chance last week for the first serious use of the anannanonomometer Jussi bought me for my birthday. So, on Wednesday, I measured 20.8 m/s (46 mph, 75 kph, or just gale force 9). And I didn't try particularly hard - just stepped out into the garden which, relatively speaking, is quite sheltered, and compared to many days we've had, it didn't seem all that windy.

My sentences seem to be getting longer. Perhaps the rural isolation is turning me into a rambling bumpkin.

Hmmmm.

A home for Hugo

There are all kinds of reasons why sometimes I don't manage to blog. Sometimes it's because I want to say something but can't quite figure out how to say it, sometimes it's cos I don't feel like it, sometimes it's cos there's nothing to say, sometimes there's too much to say...etc. Anyway I've been off-line recently for all the above. Of all the things I've omitted to blog of late there are two spectacularly significant events.

Firstly the completion of the lean-to - started with such urgency way back when. Here it is - labouring by yours truly, block work by Malc, magnificent holes by Christian, frame design and build and doors by Jussi. It's big, it's warm its glorious and we built it ourselves. Those who have known Jussi long enough might recognise Warrender-Park-Road-Bathroom-Blue. Funny how those old tins of paint get used up eventually.

It's first job is to house Hugo - an old timer we've borrowed to 'cover' the goatlings, and a couple of last years first time mums who aren't milking as well as we hoped (and it also puts them out of synch with the others so that we don't get overwhelmed with kids like we did last year). Anyway - as you can see Hugo is a bit of a toothless old sod. A character through and through. But pure Anglo Nubian and hopefully soon to be father to a handsome clutch of kids.

And hopefully soon to be returned to his adoring owner - cos MAN he stinks, and everyone who comes into contact with him stinks, and the house stinks ..... and Rebecca is coming to see us this weekend. Unfortunately I think we omitted to warn her...

Competence competence competence

So I drives all the way the Aberdeen - and it takes a long time mainly as a result of of all the road works on the A96 - due to the last serious bout of flooding - and I goes to the job interview at 4pm - a rotten time for an interview - and it's a dead simple interview really - asking questions the likes of which I've asked hunnerds of candidates in my time - but somehow not the questions I was expecting and somehow flapped and gulped like a drowning fish and totally fluffed that one thank you very much. And I drives home again. And I gets home to be slaughtered by a cold-like virus.

Bleugh.

My thoughts today are with the wet ones. Cumbria and Dumfriesshire. We seem to be in the eye of the storm here - beautifully calm and sunny - but down there looks grim. In 2004 a report by Sir David King, then the UK Govt Chief scientific adviser, predicted that, by the end of this century, what were once considered to be events that will only happen every 150 years, would be happening every 10 years. So the "1000 year" floods we had yesterday will have become events that can be expected to happen every 66 years.

As usual there was the TV footage of the besodden bemoaning the lack of action - "they should do more - build more flood defences" etc etc. You matey-pie, should get out of yer 4X4, and scream for higher taxes so Govt has the funding. Roughly, the UK Govt needs an extra £1bn per year to spend on flood defences if construction is to keep up with the worsening climate.

Climate change is real, we are seeing it in our own lives, the predictions are getting worse and politicians need mandate to do something about stopping it, and for finding the cash to adapt to it. And that it down to you.

Social services

Sorry - not blogged in almost a week. After the last post social services came and arrested me and took me to Guantanamo Bay. Hopefully I'll be able to post next week - when I'm going to Aberdeen for a job interview. Big City Lights.

Pollock Saratoga

Fish - three good sized ones and a wee for good measure - gutted and cleaned

Garlic - crushed

Parsley - chopped

Tomato - sliced

Green Pepper - sliced

Wine Wine - glug glug glug - splash

Olive Oil - glug glug

Plenty of Salt and Pepper

Stuff the fish - add the wet, season, bake in sealed container/foil.

Bingo.

Why this recipe should be Saratoga - the site of one of the worlds most important battles ever - no really it sez so on Saratoga.org - I've no idea. I found it on the web, but refined it through the addition of green pepper. Naturally the freshest fish - caught by yer own fair hands, is imperative - and I'd suggest serving it with rice cos the sauce turns out to be one of the deliciousist ever and needs a bland carrier.

I'd recommend fishing on one of those beautifully crisp and still winter days, and take your camera with new batteries, following the advice of an esteemed blog reader.

We fished with two new spinners - I caught three fish on five casts with the first - then The Girl tried and the spinner was snagged......and then lost. Then I cast once with the other new spinner, caught a fish - then The Girl tried and the spinner was snagged.....and then lost.

Good sized fish, so even with the cost of the spinners it was a reasonably cheap meal, but The Girl was a bit despondent.

Check the tide tables, this tide was only about 3m - any higher and I think The Girl might get washed away.

Tasty recipe of the day

Hold me back hold me back hold me back.

Bug yer minister

Follow this link to write to Alistair Darling (or equivalent if you're not a UK voter) and ask him to discuss climate change at tomorrows G20 finance ministers meeting in St Andews. You need to do it today or tomorrow (November 6 & 7th).

G20 managed to find £600bn to stimulate the economy after the financial crash last year. Groups like Avaaz are only asking for £150bn climate change package. Well it would be start.

Add your voice:

http://www.avaaz.org/en/climate_finance_emergency/98.php?CLICK_TF_TRACK

(when I wrote this they had got just over 5000 signatures, they are aiming for 25000 - how many have they got now?)

Saturday night

Yay! We went to the pub!

Totally spontaneously we got the opportunity to spend nigh on three hours in the pub on a Saturday night. FAB-U-LOUS. And not only was it an excellent little birthday treat but it was Halloween and therefore an excuse to lay on a dance in the village hall and for the locals to get dressed up for it. The pub was rockin'. Lots of young uns, not too many inebriates and plenty of high spirits. We had babysitting duties so couldn't get to the dance - one day we will, for better or for worse.

Our Saturday night excursions were fueled by a black forest gateau that I'd asked Jussi to bake for me. A fantastic treat - I think only the second bfg I've had in my life, the first being on my 19th birthday when I was too pissed to notice.

And it was all washed down by an unfeasibly large mug of tea from those nice people in Bonaly. This is a 1.5 pint mug - over 800ml - two tea bag sized. Phenomenal.

Happy Birthday Simon

I also get emails from Ed Milliband. He sent me one this morning. It was a link to this. Cheers Ed.

Bloggers junk mail

Bloggers get junk mail. Usually it comes from some twerp who runs a dubious-looking health food store in California - and in exchange for a link to their website they promise a free prize draw for an organic cotton T shirt. I don't succumb.

But this time I will. The email is copied below so you can pursue the links if you wish. When will people realise that buying unnecessary stuff, such as that sold at Nigel's Eco-store, is no way to save the world? How disappointing to see Caroline Lucas as chief judge, and various other luminaries of the green world who really should know better - allowing themselves to give credence to this poorly disguised advertising gimmick for Nigels Eco-Store. Cos that is all it is. If Nigel was really green he'd never be running a shop like this.

So I've nominated this blog, and this post, in the hope that the judges might get to read this and wake up to how cheap they really are. Here's the email:

Hello Simon,

My name is Diana, the intern at Nigel's Eco Store. I am trying to raise awareness of our Green Web Awards, now in its 2nd year. You can find info about the Awards at http://www.nigelsecostore.com/green-web-awards/ - any chance you could mention it in your great blog?

Of course feel free to participate by nominating some of your favourite green websites (which could include your own!) http://www.nigelsecostore.com/green-web-awards/nominate/ . Last year it was a great success, you can see the winners in its 12 categories at http://www.nigelsecostore.com/green-web-awards/2008/

I hope that through people like me and you we can push it one step further.

Please check the website and feel free to forward it to everyone who you think would want to participate or have any interest in green web.

You can also follow the progress of Green Web Awards on Twitter or Facebook :
twitter.com/greenwebawards
facebook.com/greenwebawards

Thank you!

--  Diana Office Assistant  Nigel's Eco Store www.nigelsecostore.com Office Tel: 01273 710770   Nigel's Eco Store 55 Coleridge Street, Hove, East Sussex BN3 5AB

Up yours

If the sun was the size of a man and located in the Glasgow Science Centre, Uranus would be in Thurso and would be roughly the size of a small coin. It's worthwhile pausing here and thinking - all that space!

It just so happens that astronomy clubs throughout Scotland are roughly located where planets would be, so we have a Scottish Solar System.

I went to a talk last night where I learnt this stuff. It was very good.

But more interesting were the audience which included a couple of old dears whose parents ran a local post office when they were kids. It was great back in those days (I suppose we're talking 1930s, 40s & 50s). Grandad ran a bakery (you can still see it's chimney down by the harbour) and another relation had a lorry that used to pick up groceries off the train in Thurso then drive round Sutherland selling them on. Few people had cars and children were plentiful and happy.

In the post office the post used to come in around 11pm. The worst time of year was Christmas, because all the local crofters would send friends and relations chickens. You killed a chicken by wringing its neck. Then you tied a label around its neck with the lucky recipients address on it. One year they sent out 16 sacks of chickens 'wrapped' in this way in one day. The stench was awful.......

Postie

It will be my birthday on Saturday. You've still got time.

Relax

If you've come straight from reading that last post you'll need some relaxation. Here, from cheapskate jazz collections is an amusing little ditty to sooth away all that pent up angst.

Lalalalalalal - la la

I have a prejudice against guitars in jazz - this works fine though, and I love the games with the time signatures giving a weird kind of syncopated syncopation - especially in what I guess might be the middle 8, though it's not in the middle and I've no idea how to count to 8. Or as someone else put it:

"The music of Zevious shrewdly juxtaposes order and its opposite: structural intensity pushed to its breaking point in the most appealing way. These boys are brilliant and fearless." --Vijay Iyer

Lose lose situation

F****** W** C***s crop up in all walks of life. Depending on the situation F****** W** C***s can take on a human form, be animals - especially obstinate animals, or they can be inanimate. When inanimate the F****** W** C*** is most often associated with machinery of some kind - however simple. Whatever manifestation it chooses, the F****** W** C*** delights in springing surprises, and revealing itself unexpectedly and turning a simple job into a trial, a quest of mythological proportions.

When confronted with a F****** W** C***, a good tactic is to scream "F****** W** C***" at the top of your voice, repeatedly and with abandon. The act of screaming in this way has the effect of encouraging blood flow to the region of the head and will, eventually, induce a state of calm (or, I guess, a lethal brain haemorrhage) and one can then take stock and seek to overcome the F****** W** C***.

If the F****** W** C*** is worth it's salt it will hide for a few moments before revealing itself in a slightly, oh so slightly, different form, and scuppering one once more. If this happens one should revert to screaming "F****** W** C***", it must surely be that the F****** W** C*** has returned because one didn't shout it with sufficient feeling and venom in the first place.

If this still doesn't seem to be scaring the F****** W** C*** away, try varying the emphasis, for example:

"F****** W** C***" or

F****** W** C***" or

"F****** W** C***" or even putting multiple stresses in the sentence:

"F****** W** C***".

If still thwarted one can add a musical element by varying the pitch of the screams. This is most effective when the pitch is raised, and can also be combined with the use of multiple stresses for advanced F****** W** C*** combat. For example

"F****** W** C***".

Caution should be exercised if considering expanding the sentence being screamed. So for example, it may be tempting to progress to something along the lines of:

"You F****** W** C***y Sh***", but such progressions risk exhausting one, and once one is exhausted the F****** W** C*** has most definitely won.

Yesterday I was confronted by a F****** W** C*** manifesting itself as a wheelbarrow wheel. Verily it was a cunning wee blighter.

1. It began by making it impossible to fit the new tyre I'd bought over the wheel.
2. Then it shifted to making it impossible to feed the valve of the inner tube through the wheel rim.
3. Once this was achieved it was impossible to attach a pump to the valve to inflate the tyre.
4. When this was eventually achieved the tyre deflated most rapidly, thus indicating a puncture.
5. Cleverly (we are talking advanced F****** W** C*** here), it was then impossible to remove the tyre and inner to locate the puncture and fix it.

Unusually at this point F****** W** C*** took a break and decided to have all the tools required to progress readily available. But it was a ploy to lull me further into the cunning F****** W** C***'s trap.

6. Once located and fixed and tested to ensure that the repair was sound, one must return to step one above. So to aid understanding and in the name of brevity I will adopt a notation whereby 1 is the step and in brackets will be the number of times the step has been executed. So we've fixed the puncture and must now reassemble the wheel:

1(2), 2(2), 3(2), 4(2), "Steady on" I hear you cry "You've gone back to having a puncture again". How astute of you. But I was not to be defeated:

5(2), 6(2), 1(3), 2(3), 3(3). Not finished yet!

4(3), 5(3).

The problem was that the puncture was beside the seam of the inner tube and at a point where for some reason the manufacturer had decided it would be really cool to give the inner tube some texture, in this case ribbing. This ribbing made it very difficult to create a smooth enough surface to get the whole patch to stick down. As for testing the repair, well I guess I was just too much of a Jessie to inflate the inner enough to really test the repair. I found it kinda scary inflating the inner outside the protection of its tyre.

So so far I've patched the puncture, and then over-patched the repair with a bigger patch. But those pesky little ribs in the inner tube are doing a superb job.

7 So next I rip off the repairs to date and try again. 6 (3) This time I use a super new-fangled glueless plastic patch.

1(4), 2(4), 3(4). PHEW!

4(4). Shite.

5(4), 7(2), 6(4) returning to the good old rubber patches. 8 - give the whole area a really good sand down so that this patch will really stick man.

1(5), 2(5), 3(5)............................................

............................................

............................................

............................................

............................................

............................................

............................................

............................................

............................................

............................................

............................................wait for it

............................................

............................................

............................................

............................................

............................................

............................................seems OK huh?

............................................

............................................

............................................

............................................

............................................

............................................

............................................

............................................

Yay! I won. Hah! Take that ya F****** W** C***!!

So then, at last, it was a simple matter of fixing the wheel back onto the wheelbarrow, tidy up and put away all the tools and get on with the things to be done. The whole small matter of fitting a new tyre to the wheelbarrow had taken over 2 and 1/2 hours. First job was to use the newly serviceable wheel barrow to

4 (5)

F****** W** C*** !!!!!!!

Edinburgh vision

Phew err eh? Never mind all that trams nonsense* - what Edinburgh really needs is this, running up the Mound beside the Waverley Steps.

Thanks to Town Mouse for the link.

* Eeek - more footnotes. Oh well - according to people I know in Edinburgh there are very few who have any patience left for the tram project. Which is a pity really, although I've always wondered why so much money is being spent developing and connecting riverside Edinburgh to anything - it'll be underwater in a few decades.

Sunrise 0717, Sunset 1642

No idea how these times relate to the changing of the clocks.

That Fall Back thing used to be quite welcome in city life, I seem to remember that 'extra hour' was a great thing of almost mythological importance - stoking up the batteries for the winter to come, or maybe partying like hell the night before and seriously needing several more hours in bed for the rest of the week.

Up here though it's just an excuse to get confused and to be forced to change routine - all of which to my grumpy little mind is totally unnecessary and a complete waste of energy. It's far worse in the spring of course - but still a pain in autumn. We've adjusted to it this time by changing the time of our evening meal - it now being after the goats have been done, rather than before as it was in the summer. This change is designed to minimise the disruption to the goats, and maximise the use of available light.

Meanwhile, The Girl and I went fishing yesterday. We got very wet. I mean very, like really. We lost our spinner (I think that's what it's called), got really really wet, and cold and caught nothing (except, as the girl brightly remarked, "We nearly caught our deaths!"). Spirits were restored through the application of hot cocoa and tomato cuppa soup* when we got home, swiftly followed by watching Merlin on BBC iPlayer. And all was well.

* I knew someone once whose main income was cleaning caravans in a caravan park. She used to delight us with tales of the things holiday makers used to leave behind - "I haven't bought soap or toilet paper in weeks". The cuppa soup has a similar history - not something we would buy, but visitors bring all sorts of exotic things and they are always a delight**

** Though I must confess- we've had a couple of Heinz sponge puddings in the cupboard for over 12 months. We've eaten a couple of them - and when I was a kid I loved 'em - but somehow they are no match for my own sponge puds (which I always bake cos steaming is too much faff and they're nicer baked anyway), and I find making my own sponge puds to be less faff than boiling the tinned stuff, then fighting the hot tin with tin opener etc. So there they sit (until the donors return, when they shall be fed them).***

***Sorry about the footnoting of footnotes. I remember being told off at school for an overuse of parentheses - "Most immature Lee" - but surely the footnoting of footnotes is far worse.

The return

Jussi and The Girl are back. This means I can start to see the funny side of things again.

Phew.

Pink letter day

By registered post. From the Crofters Commission.

Here it is, almost verbatum (perhaps not the right word?)

Case Number: Blah blah blah

The application blah blah blah for the Commission's consent to transfer the tenancy of the grazings shares blah blah blah, to you has been approved.

Blah Blah Blah.

The transfer of the tenancy of shares cannot take effect for at least 2 clear months after the date of our decision. You will therefore become tenant of the grazings shares with effect from 16 December 2009 unless, before that date, both parties jointly give notice to us in writing that the assignation is not to proceed. Please note if our decision is appealed to the Scottish Land Court the assignation cannot be recorded until the outcome of the appeal is known.

Blah blah blah

Blah blah blah

Yours sincerely

Blah blah blah.

Wow.

So we are THAT close. We put an offer in to buy the croft in October 2007, conditional upon being awarded shares to the grazings. In those days we were blissfully ignorant of the joys the various laws and procedures surrounding crofting. But hey. ALMOST there.

Hopefully, come December 2009, we'll get another Registered letter telling us it's all gone through. That will be a red letter day. This letter though is only an insipid shade of red.

ALMOST there.

Some days

If you've ever kept goats, I think you'll know how good and obedient and cooperative and wonderful they can be. I guess you'll also know how bloody obstinate they can be too. And how collectively they choose days when they are just not going to do anything you want them to do. And you can feel them laughing at you. And pointing. It's such a laugh. Bloody ha ha ha.

So the other morning I'd decided to get a job done. It was going to be tough, - it was one of those jobs that once started had to be finished - and with just me, in just a day between goat milkings - ooh now that is going to be tricky.

Of course this is the morning that the goats decide to be funny buggas. So I started the job nigh on an hour later than I'd planned - but because the goats had given me hell I'd retreated for a second breakfast around 9:30 and reckoned I could work through without lunch and so could make up the time the goats had cost me.

The job needed the wheelbarrow. The old wheel barrow would be the best. Where is it? Oh yes - full of oats. Empty the oats into the feed bins first. While doing this I noticed the tyre on the wheelbarrow was completely flat - so once emptied I went to reflate the tyre - which promptly exploded.

Oh well - I guess I'll use the new wheelbarrow. Where is it? Oh yes it's down at the cottage - waiting to be used to clean out the guinea pigs. Ach I might as well do that anyway - it'll only take me half an hour - they seriously need cleaning out.

So right here goes. Mix cement in cement mixer. Pour cement into wheelbarrow. Tshht! The new wheelbarrow is bigger than the old one and you can't tip the cement into it. Oh well, I guess I just need to swap wheels and then I'll be able to use the old wheelbarrow with the new wheel.

Can't seem to find a spanner that fits this nut. Best go down to the cottage and get the tool box with all the spanners in it. Good that's it. But the nut on this old wheelbarrow is seriously seized. Need the WD 40. Where is it? Oh yes - it'll be down at the cottage. Oh well off we go.

Right. Good. Sorted. Lets go.

The day continued like this. I worked solid through to about 4:30 - interrupted about once an hour when the chain came off the cement mixer. I stopped about 4:30 cos I'd run out of cement. Job not finished as I'd promised myself. Bollox.

I rushed down to the cottage, hastily threw myself together a toad in the hole with boiled cabbage and onion gravy and was back at the goats by 6.

They played up very merry hell. They knew I was tired and boy did they have fun.

Once doesn't really realise how angry one is until one hears ones echo resounding through the bonnie bonnie glens. Och Aye.

You f*cking little b*stard f*cking b*stards get the f*cking b*stard in there you f*cking b*stards.

I was finshed about 9. 15 hours working - or so - with very little break, very little achieved, in fact main job was probably ruined cos I ran out of cement at a crucial time.

F*cked.

Mystery

I've been shopping in Thurso today. Strangely, it seems to cost the same to buy me a weeks worth of food as it does to buy the family a weeks worth of food. I think the equation looks something like this:

[Feeding] Simon + Jussi + The Girl = [Feeding] Simon + chocolate bars + wee treats + chocolate bars + ooh look I've not had those in ages + chocolate bars.