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.