I go away for a week and all lets loose. Potentially anyway. Mr Crofter took the lovely Gemma, his fiancée back doon to Yarkshire - presumably to ensure she left the island. She'll be back soon enough - but not soon enough for The Crofter whose general grumpiness has returned - although I obviously wouldn't tell him that. Yes, he is back as well haven taken aeronautical transportation to return to the island and his everso pregnant coows - ably looked after by Mam and Dad Crofter in the meantime.
The coows or at least two of them have moved into the bit that Mr Crofter used to inhabit some time ago. By the time Gemma returns to put the finishing touches to the PoR, the calflettes will be in the front room watching tv with Widdle!
The Boy Shaun turned up today, wafting in at 10.30 when he said he would arrive Thursday! Oh, it was Thursday. He turned up all the same. With a hat on too.
This must have been February 14th.
The sun was shining for the first time this year so Dad Crofter only had ten layers of clothing on as he searched for fresh guinea-pig grass watched over by a gaggle of birdies on the wire
I haven't been down to The Croft today. I was busy/lazy and I didn't want my ear bent after yesterdays report. You know the sort of thing "Why did you tell everyone that the tractor is stuck?". That rather does assume that people read this thing. I just write this thing for my own amusement really. And anyway, why did The Crofter stick the flippin toy-tractor in the mud with me there taking snaps then? Tell me that? Eh?
Dad Crofter wearily marches into the sun past the stuck toy-tractor.
And then walks back again
I noticed whilst examining the evidence here in snap form that we were being spied on.. And spied on by someone who looks suspiciously like a post person- on a account of the post office van they were driving and the post office jacket whilst delivering letters. Just saying and everything.
Right, that's enough of the flim-flam, the post that does not exist and all that, reality kicked in today. I'm not going to turn this blog into a love-fest especially when 'things happen'. As they did today.
The Brave Heroic Crofter, him of the committees and all that plus his lovely dad Dad Crofter set out to feed the Shetland coows. Big tough beasts they are roaming the outback that are the croft fields down at the glen, down where the witches are that for some reason I cannot tell you about. Not that I know etc.
Mr Crofter resorts to the 'shove it' methodology
Then the 'roll-it' method.
And finally, the 'stuff that' method!
The Crofter drove the recalcitrant Chinese born tractor with trailer and hay baley thing. Mr Dad came with me savouring the heater in my car. What possessed Mr Crofter Sir, the brave heroic one to drive straight on the crofty field with all that snow and, I might add, gluety mud right near where the coow got stuck a few days ago, I'll not understand. Apart from the Crofter not wanting to carry the hay to the coows but rather tow the trailer with said hay aboard to the waiting coows. The tractor, being all oriental wasn't that keen on the mud so refused to go on, back wheels firmly ensconced into the mire and the front following soon after. Even when the hay had been off loaded, the trailer un-hitched and a great deal of huffing and puffing taken place, the tractor stayed put. It's still there awaiting a tow from the pimpmobile - once The Brave Heroic Crofter gets it's mended. Oh, and the tractor-san steering sorted as that sort of er er broke in the mud!
Of course I shouldn't be showing you this sketch of a snap. That's why the post isn't really here. Just have a quick look and move on. AND DON'T TELL THE CROFTER or Gemma.
Of course I have to run this snap past the happy couple before I show you. Gemma will want to be able to tell The Crofter what to think I suppose. And about time too. I mean, there are going to be some changes and everything
OK, THAT'S ENOUGH. Look away now! NOW! Do you hear?
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.