Dad Gemmima has been up recently. Came up as chaperone to the very lovely Gemmima who was visiting her fiancée. Turns out he is a dab hand at semaphore or something like that so soon he was sending signals across the island from the unpolyed poly-tunnel. And I have no reason why. Still, seems a nice chap.
While The Crofter has his feet on the mantelpiece with Gemmima stroking his brow and whispering sweet nothings into his ear as they watch Euroviosion song contest for the seventh time, Dad Crofter is moving feed from the Pimpmobile [now with recharged battery] to the place where the feed is put.
Oh, I'm loving this snap. Very JR don't you think? Anyone who wasn't in the know would think the kind Crofter has placed the junk there just for me. He hadn't, he was too busy in the Tooth Factory for that.
Yes, ahhh. He's ok. Had triple man-flu / double Pneumonia [aka a cold] for the last few days but he is pulling through you'll be pleased to hear.
Found enough time and energy to pose for a snap for me though. I mean, I didn't ask him to pose he just does - sort of unconsciously. Just in case his fiancée looks in here perhaps!
I know there's been a break. My nose started running, a cough racked my lungs so I took to my bed - which was just dandy as my dearest Eve was away. And I didn't want to give my snivels to the sheeps anyway. Mr Crofter already had double man-flue so there were no worries on that part.
The other calflette - whose name escapes me on account of my ageing self, was looking expecting me to play whilst Mum lurked behind. I didn't play. I didn't feel like to be honest.
When I snook down to the Big Shed yesterday in the sunshine, The Crofter et all were just sorting the place out after the recent lambing. Little sheeps all over the croft, in the small barn, in the house and still, three mummy to be sheeps in The Big Shed. There's over thirty of the little Hebridean- guinea-pig crosses this year. How's that for nooky eh?
Meanwhile Doonray/Doograe/little coow was running all over the shoppe like an oversize strange sounding lambette. Not surprising really since twas his first day in the big world. Not sure what he thinks about the world today as the rain hoofs down.
At least Mum was calm although I don't think that's the same Mum who tries to take my arm off. At least I hope not.
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.