There it is. I actually managed to snap it up without throwing up at the sight of it! Apparently, it's a Range Rover.
Sheeps in the sun
Meanwhile the little lambs are still popping into the world. Eleven so far and most of these had the pleasure of some warm sunshine - now sadly dissipated. The warmness that is; the cold wind from the north has returned. I went down to see the sheeps this morning and found another little beastie with it's mum. They had a lift in the back of a Land-Rover to get back to The Croft. The land-rover that has a few things less than brilliantly working with it. Eh?
Of course boys will be boys. They have a quad to play with, a tractor too. Lucy the Land Rover sits newly painted while the other LR - lacking is a suitably solid chassis [and other bits I'm reliably told are not that important ]- is used around the croft to take feed here and there. Or something.
Now there is a recent addition to the growing scrapyard. The Pimped up Mobile - all shiny and black with smoked windows and everything. I'm assured this one works perfectly [apart from the bits that don't anyway - and they are not at all important - I'm told]. I couldn't bring myself to snap it up the other day - so bemused I was with it's presence and blinded by the effulgence of it's bodywork [at the moment!].
Hector was round at The Crofter tother day. It's not as if he hasn't enough to do on his own having a lot of sheeps - and now lambs to add to the flock. But Hector has time for people and he was round to see Crofter's dad and pinch some sartorial tips I should imagine too. I snapped them up but it wasn't long before Hector became all bashful and went off with a smile. I like Hector.
It was day like most others. A sunny day although blowing a sharp cutting cold wind from the north. The hay rolls had arrived the night before and the coows were keen to get and eat it. The quad was started with a cough and a splutter, the trailer loaded with a roll and off down the neighbouring croft they went. Mr Crofter's croft is a tad wet down that end - and up toher end too as it happens so that's why they went that way. I followed behind. Walking.
First lamb of 2012
And there was Nigel [or it might be Nigella - I forgot to ask and it's not easy to tell these days] the lambette. Ah, lovely.
The roll had to be shoved through a hole in t'fence o'er the ravine that is the drainage channel. Mr Crofter and Dad Crofter got very warm as they huffed and puffed in the sunshine to get the roll under the wire. [I took snaps - but did help in the end - how kind is that?] . The roll was then moved ceremoniously o'er to the toher side, the dryer side where the bull proceeded to trash the thing - having great fun and thoroughly frightening me and the Crofters with his antics.
Mr Crofter wonders if he should have brought a red cloak with him.
Mr Crofter dances out of the way as the bull continues trashing.
To be completely honest, Mr Crofter wasn't at all happy. "You" he said sternly to the bull. "Yes it's you I'm talking about". The bull, it must be said, had been very naughty indeed. The hay was now spread all over that part of the field and Mr Crofter and his Dad then had to rebuild the roll so it all won't blow away. Now, isn't that a naughty bull?
It's not only Hector's quad that wouldn't start recently. The Crofter's Dad had some problems too. Yours truly and Crofter's Dad pushed the thing - already loaded -back up the slope so it was level and then it worked.
Pushkin had gone out for his morning constitutional - a quick stroll in the morning sunshine - while I was preparing myself for a visit to The Crofter. And then the hail came. In no time at all Pushkin came scuttling in straight to the warm Rayburn stove and I put off my visitation to The Crofter. It'll stop soon I'm sure. It is April after all !
Meanwhile I have scanned this - taken Yesterday - for your delectation whilst listening to a fine Late Junction on the BBC 'play it again Sam' thing.
The air was lovely this morning - despite the black cloud looming over the back of the village. I took the opportunity to tootle off down to see the Crofter and see what mayhem was afoot. To my surprise I found Lucy the recalcitrant Land Rover out of her hutch and glowing [almost] the the sunshine. Mr Crofter was bowing before her urging her to start - which she didn't. She's been living inside o'er the winter and the shock of the fresh air rather took her by surprise.
Mum was doing things inside but popped her head out the door to say hello while Dad smiled. He always smiles as it happens., Unlike The Crofter.
The Crofter meets a girlie
Soon we were out on a croft-field. Not Mr Crofter's but one he has a week or so of use since one lamb came early and he hasn't brought the girls home yet. Feed was the attraction and we soon had a lovely greeting before the hoards bound over.
Yes, they were all hungry. Even the four desperadoes who didn't want to come in last year and sport raggedy coats on account of not have been sheared came over.
But ex-boys will be boys - as these two who have had a close encounter with a tight elastic band proved. In no time they were carrying on like they had just fallen out of a Stornoway bar! Mr Crofter was not amused I can tell you!
The Crofter was out on his neighbours croft yesterday. He has a kind agreement to graze his animules there from time to time and there are four sheeps of the male kind down there at the moment. While on the bottom of his croft lurks the coows. Only it's easier to get to the bottom of his croft from next door on account of the soft ground on his side. Something to do with a spring.
I snapped up The Crofter and his dad from a distance [because of Harry the doog I had on a lead at the time ] shifting the last of the silage to the coows. The sun was out and everything [this was yesterday. Yes, I am a day late !!! ]. We came back and Mr Crofter washed his boot. His left one.
The sun was out today. After yesterdays flurry of snow and cold the day has come warm and sunny. The coows have been fed and are fine. The boy sheeps are fed and fine. The girlie sheeps are still out to play on the - where-ever they are - but will come in to the croft next week to have their lambs.
Murdo [no, the other one] was over when I arrived, plotting something grazings no doubt. Very furtive I can tell you. Nevertheless, I got a smile.
I took these snaps with my new cinematic film from the old East German company Orwo - and very good it is too.
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.