I poked my head out the door of our wee housy this morning and took a stroll down to t'crofter's shack - only to find he was not there. The snarling dog was guarding the place so I came home only to find the kind crofter and David his lovely father in the croft opposite home talking over a box of water. The water was for Eric and his ladies who were between the Crofter and I. I snapped them all up and went home again
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.