Meanwhile The Crofter slaves away in his tooth factory - all cosy and nice wjile the PoR slowly but surely falls into bits on the ground. Unless Ms Gemma Crofter has it's renovation on next weeks' list of jobs. Ooh, can't wait to find out!
That's The BoyShaun. Looks like he got promotion as he was stood and earlier sat in the pug hutch shovelling sh... stuff from there to find the hutch wall which had been dismantled by an over-gruntled pig. Once rediscovered the hutch wall was rehung, wallpapered and what have you for the piggies to go back in.
While Ms Crofter whiles away the days painting her nails, training the chickens to dance and fluffing up Widdle's coat the stove is holding yet another culinary masterpiece. This time it's Diogenes and potato pie. Smelled awful when I popped in for a gander - but then I never did like or eat meat. Gemma seemed happy enough though and I'm sure the The Crofter won't be complaining.
Ah, look. The poor Crofter has to scratch a living for his expanding entourage by knocking up a few teeth in his factory. He is, I might add, very good at what he does - I know, I used to do a similar thing some years ago although that was just after teeth were discovered.
Here's a few snappers nestling together waiting for that final flourish that makes them the best on the island - and the Highlands too I should imagine.
The weather hasn't been too bad recently. Well, it hasn't rained all the time. And the wind stops blowing from time to time but when it does and the suns pokes it head out of the clouds the washing line is soon full. Hanging there and what have you, HHHCB checking to make sure it's all the right order as it should be. It was so we came home.
The end of Diogenes as we knew him. Now nestling in the freezer, he succumbed to the knife last week and Mr Crofter sized him down into edible bits. It's a family affair butchery with Dad Crofter dicing the ickle bits for stews, The Crofter weilding The Big Knife, Mum Crofter sorting the packing and newcomer Gemma Crofter wrapping and sealing the bags. All day they carried on.
Apparently, this is getting ready for a Salmon cut. No, I didn't know what it was either - but then I'm a fish eating veggi.
And this was his dodgyknees. The coows not the Crofters.
And here's Ms Crofter supervising Mum Crofter in the packing/wrapping dept. And sticking on the beautifully designed labels too.
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.