It hasn't been a good few days to be frank. The weather has been awful so The Crofter mainly stayed put feet up on the Purple Satin pouffe watching the football composing love-odes and being generally irritated by the fleet of gooses that have taken up temporary residence outside the hoosey. Dad Crofter wheeled some 'stuff' into the yard as the rain lashed down. At least the hail had stopped.
The little coow is doing fine. I forgot to ask The Great Man what flavour the little beastie is. You'll have to stay on tender-hooks till I find out.
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.