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The Crofter, cooking up a storm

The Crofters' dad, watering the snow !!!

The Crofters' mum, checking to see if The Crofter is in the paper [he wasn't]

You see, it's Christmas Eve and the snow still lies crisp and now uneven, frozen as it was again last night after a mild thaw yesterday. So I slide down the road to The Croft to pass my good tidings of the day to come but bumping into my good friend Clocks on the way. Exchanging best wishes I leave Clocks to his stroll to the Village Community Shop of which, of course you know, Mr Crofter is the chairman of the board - or something like that. Entering the house out of the bright sunshine that bounces off the glistening snow, I find Sue Crofter - aka Mum - reading the Stornoway Gazette. It only takes 5 mins or so - unless you take in the court proceedings [which I do as it happens]. Still, it what you do up here. Unless of course your doing something odd in the 'garden'. I say 'garden' but its covered in snow - which is just as well since the pigs come out when Mr Crofter is cleaning out their houses and have churned up the lawn so it looks like the Somme - under the snow. Out there Mr Crofter seems to be watering the snow. I check his eyes and they seem clear enough, there's no tell-tale dribble from the side of his mouth which might suggest insanity so I look around again and then see the duck pondette - which, now having had its ice block removed is being filled with liquid water.

Meanwhile Mr Crofter is somewhere. He was in the kitchen lurking over the Stanley with a suggestion of culinary expertise - but that was a sham as I notice he was just warming his hands.

I really don't blame him since it is Christmas Eve [did I mention that?] and there sh.., sorry muck to be shovelled from the byre to the muck heap and the stys to the muck heap. It's hard work and Mr Crofter and his pater get down to it creating a right old smell. I retreat to go home and meditate.

Mr Crofter and his wonderful family wish all their readers a very Happy Christmas. And so do I :-)