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Yes, yes, I went to The Croft this morning. Well, it was almost morning anyway. I'd been out working last night, off onto the other side of the island at night in less than ideal conditions. Then I didn't sleep so well. You know what it is; the job you've just done earlier in the night runs through your mind and when you eventually drop off to sleep you are awoken by a ghastly diaphanous apparition hovering over your minds eye in a particularly menacing way which, when you realise you've just been dreaming your pulse is racing and the likelihood of regaining sleep is about as unlikely as the council deciding to actually switch off the terribly wasteful street lights that light up the island like a Christmas tree.

Okay it was 11.30 am ish. With the emphasis on 'ish'. Mr Crofter was having a mug of builders' tea to prepare him for the journey to our small capital in t'land-rover to pick up some hay - assuming there is any to buy. The animals had been fed and watered, the teeth made and posted while the sun was shining. I took a snap, had a whinge and came home. As I do.