Oh how very brave is the Crofter going about his cleaning duties despite the recent snow and the mud thereabouts. And driving the big car-thing too with such,,, such ,, something. Made right lovely patterns on the ground. I was beginning to wonder if he has the air of an artist. Or an Artiste.
Have you met Eric the Bull before? No, well, this is Eric The Bull. A rather nice bull as bulls what I have met go. I was even present in Dingwall when the Crofter adopted him. Only he was breathing fire today as his girls were taken out of the big shed as the Crofter, Dad Crofter and the Father in law - who had been promoted to second level sh... stuff shoveller shovelled s... smelly stuff from there to over there.
Apologies for neglecting you, I, the blogger have not been at my best.
The Crofter and his lovely family on the other hand are all tickedy-boo although Emily is wondering who all these strange men in red coats and hats with cotton wool round their face are since she has seen a few these last few days.
All the same we do wish you all a very happy festive season whatever it means to you.
We had a wee breeze the other day - and snow was forecast again. It came a few weeks back and then went quickly. It was here a bit in 2013 but now, not sure. No doubt the Crofter's will be letting me know if it's here and affecting their workings
Oops! The numbering the of posts seem to have gorn astray I notice. No doubt you have too and were about to write in. Well, don't bother since I really don't care. There, I've said it. I'm going to stick with my mis-numbered posts here. and to top it all I have posted a virtually irrelevant and rubbish snap from another year as well.
I nearly fell off me legs the other day when the Tractor that nearly goes properly, went properly and, get this, on the first time of asking. Eh? You're not surprised I nearly ended up on my dainty little bottom now are you?
The Ttngp had to be fired up so that something else could be moved. Can't remember for the life of me what it was since the starting of the engine incident - without the changing of the battery, bump-starting it with the Pimpmpmobile - threw me and my mind couldn't compute anything else. Not that this doesn't happen regularly of course, it's just that it never happens. I mean, even The Crofter was smiling.
Don't ask me to do this again. Granted the snaps are a bit wobbly or something but it was pi**ing down, the wind howling and the sheeps running fast. What else does one expect eh?
Filthy the weather was. Filthy I tell you. The good Crofter wore his best foul weather gear wellies and everything. It was horrible.
Mr Crofter had been to the mainland the day before to get some 'much needed' sheeps. Needed for what I don't know. I mean, what's wrong with the other millions he has. The Crofter hid behind the trailer [above] so as not to mess up his hairstyle.
I mean, the weather was horrid. Have I told you that? I had me boots on, me leggings, me 'at and me coat. I was cold. and wet at the end. I ran about waving my arms don't you know - to no avail as it happens. But I did do it.
Dad Crofter said little, smiled a little and stood ready to invite the wayward sheeps into the big shed. They didn't get in.
Mr Crofter lifted a hurdle or two. Luckily the ground is good. Two sheeps had to sleep outside, and two in the big shed.
No, the snaps are not sharp. It was blowin a hoolie. And I only had the little camera to bring out quickly beneath the torrent.
The Good Crofter was tolerably happy when things were done.
Wonders will never cease, the Barking Dog is quiet for once. It is still there but quietly looking on. And how did this come about? Well, some intensive training by The Crofters got tBG to shut up for once. Brilliant work.
The day to day goings on arfe still going on, here The Crofter telling the piggie her bedtime story.
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.