24

The Culprit [I think. Was one of them anyway. Huh!]
Mum crofter keeps me out of the incident scene and traps me with those spooky little Hebridean Lambs.

The scene of The Fence Post Incident.

Ghreit loves me. I know she does. Arrived this morning to take her for a stroll on Garry beach and she barked with glee, span round three times before jumping into my car. That's how I know.

Hyacynth does not love me. She trashed a fence post yesterday knowing full well that there was a gale coming in and Paul the Crofter, newly elected onto the village grazing committee and all that, would have to come out and un-trash the fence post - with me, camera-laden following behind. That's how I know.

Paul the Crofter, newly elected.............. tolerates me. He lets me snap him up anytime while he, along with Dad crofter and Mum crofter do all the work. That's how I know.

I think Mum and Dad are rather ambivalent towards me. They smile at me. Me? Eh? So I snap them up, come home, develop my film and then sit in front of the fire and sip my green tea in a rather up-market way. I'm from Bath you see.

The weather is horrible. Hyacynth is a good forecaster - un-like the radio who even got the day wrong on the shipping forecast the other day. I'm still wet from venturing out onto the croft with PtC [+M&D] to sort the fence post. I stuck it out till the end. Well, till the end of the first bit when they had nearly got the stump of the old post out of the ground while Hyacynth looked smugly on.

I'd hate to be a crofter. I mean, I got spooked when the little flock of sweet Hebridean Lambs followed me down the croft today. I spoke to them Very Harshly I can tell you. And quickened my step and everything.

Its proper hard work and everything too. Once you have sorted the fence in the howling rain, the animals have been fed, get the amorous turkey extracted from your leg, you have to go and earn a living to pay for it all. Its not like this on The Archers is it?

ps. Yes, I lightened the pictures from reality so you could see them!

23

I was mooching around the croft yesterday exchanging pleasantries with Mr Crofter and fending off the amorous turkey when I noticed the light falling on this wonderful collection of tools in the feed shed. I love the look of old tools, they have so much texture and love ingrained in them - I was using a pile of old junk of a camera as it happens - so I snapped them up onto film. As you do. Well, as I do.

I hear one of the cows decided to go on walkabout yesterday - bashing down a croft fence and taking off towards the little village shop. Dad and Mr Crofter are out today mending the fences so, when I have walked Ghriet [an Afrikaan woofing dog] I shall be out snapping them up.
By the way, congrats to Mr Paul Crofter on his election to the village grazing committee. The first English crofter, possibly the youngest and certainly the nicest english crofter called Paul around here :-)

22

Pig is pinching the ducks mash again this morning. Ah well, at least the sun is shining

21

Chickens again. Or is it ducks. Whatever! Here's Dad crofter doing things in the old terraced hen-houses soon to be demolished [probably by a winter storm] to make way for a new hen-related development. Progress eh?

20

Chaos. That's the only way to explain it. I troll down to the croft to do a spot of snapping up at the croft to find the turkeys in the feed room trying to snatch an early feed [ they were threatened with the freezer as a home!], the piggies ran round the 'lawn' dispersing the ducks and chickens everywhere as they tried to pinch the chickens food - and did before being moved on by Sir the Crofter.
Dad crofter arrived and we went down to see the chickens - where I find that they have a chicken who thinks he is a duck. He lives happily with the ducks, he eats with the ducks, sleeps with the ducks. I wonder if he would eventually taste of duck!
I wandered back to the house to have a sane chat with Mum Crofter then went home.

19

I had a metaphorical letter from a Mrs Trellis about the sheep who had tidy-up in the horn department. That was Rambo - a common name for a ram in these parts. Not sure if that's a reflection on the film viewing on the island, a lack of imagination or else I'm missing something in the Gaelic. Needless to say, he's fine. I say fine but what I really mean is that he is well and just as likely to butt you up the rear end as you stroll unconcerned down the croft, camera and lightmeter in hand, as he was before. As it happens I was on the tother side of the fence when I took this brave shot [?] and Rambo was looking for some chicken/duck food to supplement his morning toast Dad Crofter had already given him.

18

Paul the Crofter and Eve stroll down from The Croft towards the beach.

Its not all graft and hard work at the croft. Mum and Dad have just had a couple of days living it up on the mainland - and visiting the various retail outlets one can't access here on the seaward side. Paul gets into Stornoway one in a blue moon for a quiet IrnBru or to collect some more feed for the ever ravenous beasts he has. And then again my partner Eve and I drag him him down to the beach for a stroll from time to time - where Paul regails us with how wonderful life is etc. Always uplifting don't you know.

The Crofter gazes over the Minch to the mainland mountains some 30 miles away.