Unwelcome back scratching

So those of you lucky enough to be going to the Wigtown Book Festival could do worse than to look in on this. Go Tadg!

I spent most of the 1980's living in that part of the world working here. Then, both Wigtown and Whithorn were scarcely places anyone but lovers of rural decay would want to visit. But things are very different now. Go check em out.

Sunrise 0635 Sunset 2029

Aye tis fair drawing in.

Windy and wet. Fire is lit. Summer has ended.

In between trying to progress a grant application for empire building on the croft, trying to think about writing a tender for the house renovations, trying to stay on top of the garden and all the other stuff, I've been applying for a job.

It's one of those dream jobs - decent enough day rate paid for a few days a year of brain stretching work away from the croft. So far the application process has been on-line. Firstly there was an on-line application form which, like application forms the world over, did not ask the right questions. Anyway I seem to have passed that bit, and was then invited to take an on-line verbal reasoning test, which I've just completed, and I have to say was pretty challenging. It consisted of a series of paragraphs often written in fairly convoluted English, followed by statements which, based only on the text, you had to mark as True, False or Cannot Say. Sounds simple but I promise it was not! I'll not hear whether or not I've done enough to be invited to interview until late September. Fingers crossed.

Cohabitation

This might look like a picture of a poorly constructed raised bed to you, but to me it is a shot of my compost heaps. There are two heaps here - on the right is this years compost, and on the left is last years, covered with straw, maturing nicely for use next year. But hey - what's that if it isn't a magnificent stand of tatties growing through last years compost. Methinks me compost isn't working properly if all it can do is propagate potatoes - but they do look rather healthy - much better than this lot which are all rather yellowed. I had a good look at these yesterday and apart from hosting a few slugs they look pretty healthy - apart from being yellow that is, and my diagnosis is malnutrition so I think I'll throw some semi-rotted manure over them. That'll learn 'em.

But my compost potatoes look great - but I've no idea what variety they are - I mean when should I harvest?

And strange things are happening to my greyhound cabbage (no piccies of the cabbage - I know you'll be disappointed) - apart from the cabbage white caterpillars and the slugs, my cabbages seem to be harbouring worms. Cabbage worms? What? And another thing - my cabbages are always tasty and all - but shop bought cabbage always seems to taste of cabbage - my cabbage tastes of cabbage a bit, but mainly of soil. Why is that?

And over on the broad beans we have a new visitor, which, as far as I can tell is knot grass moth caterpillar. Which is nice. These broad beans are finishing so I'm happy to leave 'em.

According to some web sites knot grass moths are generally rare or infrequent in Scotland - so I guess it's a testament to the magnificent summer we've had that they are here, or maybe it's global warming, or maybe it's all one in the same anyway.

Identity crisis

Thruckbird? Blackbrush? Or just an adolescent blackbird? Like Phil the hedgehog, blackbirds love the cat food. This one was on alert and flew off as soon as I'd snapped this piccy. A wee wren was less fortunate this morning. It's good to have cats - they're getting few a good number of rabbits and mice, but wrens? Oh dear.

Talking of hunting - here are the results of the last fishing expedition. Fishing is dangerous business - and coastal fishing especially so - this catch was taken on Monday evening - the tide was pounding in and Ailsa and I both got soaked.

Getting wet is fine - but it's the fear of the freak big wave sweeping us off the rocks that bugs me and I think I'm going to pay more attention to tide tables and will check not just the time of the tide but also it's predicted height. And maybe I'll stuff Ailsa into a life jacket for good measure. But of course, like cycling helmets, the danger of safety equipment is it can give you false confidence.

Pollock again - very tasty.

A brief interlude (PLEASE!)

I'm not blogging much at the moment cos I'm focussed on desk work - and really there is nothing funny or interesting about that. Tying myself to the desk has coincided with rotten rainy weather - which is a good thing cos desk work seems to be impossible when the sun is out. But cold toes have returned (not as bad as this) , but a harbinger of winter perhaps. Oh my god - NO! Not yet PLEASE!

So, although the cr*p weather is good cos I'm getting things progressed that I should have done months ago - we are hoping for a return of summer soon.

Anonymous benefactor

Meet Phil. I guess a bit of cat food is a fair exchange for a bucket of peas. But apart from peas, Phil (The Hedgehog - the note with the peas said - Will return for bucket-Phil - a bit of a giveaway really) - where was I? Oh yes. Apart from peas, Phil also does a good job eating the remains of all the moles, rabbits, rare birds, voles and mice that the cats are wont to catch and leave in the middle of the path as a squelchy treat for wanderers in darkness.

Excuse my French

POLLOCKS!

It took Ailsa and I less than an hour to catch these beauties. We rushed home and Jussi cooked 'em. And eeh bah gum I aint never tasted nowt better. A completely home grown meal - tatties, peas (well OK the peas were from the hedgehog) parsley and the freshest fish ever. Grand!

Political ambitions

There are lots of reasons why I could never be a politician. Top of the list is democracy - I mean who would vote for me? Especially with my autistic tendencies and penchant for making jokes out of everything, and preferably a joke that strains the listeners sensibility - wouldn't look good on Newsnight. Another reason is that I like to paint pictures to illustrate the point I'm trying to make but don't always think through the metaphor - that listeners might hear something different from the message I'm trying to paint.

For example I was at a Climate Change conference a couple of years ago being addressed by a new Scottish Minister responsible for climate change who was labouring the need for due process, a bill, a consultation process, reflection, a further consultation process, a parliamentary debate before becoming an Act. Frustrated by what I saw as complacency I took to the floor and said that climate change was far more urgent than that, that we are in a crisis and action needs to be taken now. Imagine, I said, that an invading army was marching up the M6 - would the Scottish Government undertake a consultation process or get on and do something? Of course the Scottish Nationalist Ministers head was now filled with ENGLISH invaders - not of the urgency of climate change - and the minister rather irritatingly dismissed the question with some quip.

Last night Newsnight was filled with footage taken from WWII propaganda films trying to get people to dig up golf courses and plant spuds for the war effort in a piece on food security in the light of climate change. Thus my use of the war analogy feels vindicated, but not obviously, of the use of the M6.

So will we get agreement in December for a global 40% cut in C02 levels by 2020? No chance if you ask me. Complacent and deaf to the marching of boots and the rumbling of tanks.

Back to real issues - today has been eternal drizzle interspersed by occasional showers. It feels like the end of summer. Jussi has spent most of the day making cheese and I've been curled up with a book. Thoroughly enjoyed the day - but rather hoping that summer returns soon.

Kicking the hedgehog

... ought to be a euphemism - but I'm not sure what for. "Sorry guys - not coming out tonight I'll be kicking the hedgehog".

Last night I kicked the hedgehog. I didn't mean to, it was dark. I managed to get a light onto it before it scurried off - HUGE! - I mean small football size - but unfortunately the camera wasn't to hand.

And then this morning we find this on the doorstep. Are the two related? Does kicking the hedgehog bring 'random' peas? Does anyone know of ancient folklore relating to hedgehog abuse?

So if you chance upon a hedgehog lugging a blue bucket about, please thank it for me.

Gone fishing

We scrambled over the rocks with spuming sea etc.

Actually it was quite calm. Ailsa doubted the chances of our success on account of it being a Sunday morning and according to her, everyone has a lie in on a Sunday morning - even fish. It turned out she was right. We never got a single nibble. Still it was four hours being together in the sun and rain by the sea. We'll be back.

Magnetic north

More visitors expected today, or tomorrow, from Dunbar. Hectic and great fun. I'll be able to look back at this during the long lonely winter and remind myself what it is to speak to people. Winter conversations with sheep and dead parsnips can be surprisingly stimulating and considerably more unpredictable than your average day to day, but ultimately unsatisfying.

Meanwhile, I opened a book this morning. The first lines of books are supposed to be crucial - they are supposed to be enticing so the reader launches into the rest of the book. This one started:

"A Turkish heavyweight boxing champion sauntering down a Hamburg street with his mother on his arm can scarcely be blamed for failing to notice that he is being shadowed by a skinny boy in a black coat."

I reckon this must be one of the best first lines I've ever read. So good in fact that I had to read it a few times, put the book down to reflect upon it, and fall back to sleep. The Germans liked my beer - there's no greater compliment than a German liking your home brew.

Die Deutschen sprechen Deutsches

No time to tell you about the man selling chainsaws - we're busy with visitors - nice visitors of course! Malcolm would be very disappointed with me.

Die Deutschen mögen Würste und haggis.

I accept no responsibility for the quality of translation - it's all done through babelfish.

Warum sind so viele Deutschen Ingenieure? Ich bedeute wirklich.

Chaos

Ah gawd - can't cope! Tomorrow we've got a man coming to repair the cooker, a woman coming to buy some kids AND more visitors from Dunbar (Isabel and Dave) and then the next day we've got visitors from Germany. Piccadilly bloody circus mate.

Might have to have a beer or two.

Right up there

There aint nothing, but nothing, quite so wonderful as wandering down from the garden with a basket full of fresh picked home grown veg, grabbing a litre of home brewed summer ale out the fridge and settling down in the garden in your home made chair for a couple of hours of shelling peas and beans, picking over parsley and scraping fresh dug spuds.

It's the good life alright.

Malcolm and Helen

Often unaided, always with very little encouragement, and always with maximum enthusiasm, Malcolm and Helen's visit was characteristically characterised by a fairly uncoordinated but characterful and highly effective attack on three jobs that we needed doing. Firstly was this, secondly a guinea pig run for Salt and Ginger (and the wee girl obviously - but you'll be pleased to note that despite the bed clothes she hasn't taken to sleeping out there - yet), and thirdly a frame for a chicken house.

I decided that we needed to buy new blocks for the lean-to, as many of the blocks from the Nissen hut are a bit crumbly - I'll use those for paths and stuff in the veg patch next Spring.

The challenge now is to have made some further progress on 1 and 3 before Malcolm and Helen visit again... which hopefully will be sooner than you think.

One day, dad, he'll be proud

Rounders

Flushed with the rosy glow of success we had a game of rounders. Rounders is a team game of course, but I won so there.

Whisky drinking prize

So when the adults stay up too late drinking too much and stay in bed too long the next morning (except Jussi and Helen who got up to do the goats and then went back to bed). The children awake and decide that, as there's no one to tell them not to, they'll watch The Lord of the Rings - all three million hours of it, before breakfast.

Eventually people get up, everyone gets fed and we head off to the local beach for the sandcastle building competition. The kids, still reeling from Orcs and Elves, decide to build Gondor, and Helms Deep and Rivondell and a hobbit house and a hole for Gollum. Then the castles get joined by roads and rivers and Helms Deep becomes Mount Doom and it all looks rather splendid. When it's time to judge the sand castles the judge admits to being a lifelong Tolkien fan and the boys run around shouting "It's in the bag".

And Indeed it was - against stiff competition our complex of castles won the day. Spot the red rosette.

And while other teams had brought buckets and even shovels, we did almost all of it with our bare hands. Well done everybody!

Harvest

We're getting a particularly good crop of visitors this summer. I never found the time to tell of the delights of Tadg and Margaret's visit before Malcolm and Helen arrived, later joined by Graham and Fi.

Malcolm and Helen will get a post unto themselves, but for now here are a couple of shots of the impromptu campsite. Grown ups slept in the vans, the kids had the cottage with me and Jussi.