Teef are getting made and The Crofter seems to have little time to shift sh*t from here to there - and probably back again on the tread of his boots. So Dad Crofter is doing that bit on t'croft while The Crofter 'imself fiddles in the cupboard supposedly looking for something important in the Tooth Factory. Mum Crofter awaits instructions.
Meanwhile the Starlings are beginning to run things round here. I saw millions of them lurking thereabouts. I shall keep a look out and tell you more.
On the Isle of Lewis off the west coast of mainland Scotland lies a croft inhabited by an English off-comer. His Mum and Dad live nearby and help him run the croft. This is a photographic record of their lives as it unfolds.