Mr Crofter wandered past our little hoosey today along with a well dressed gentleman which immediately got my curiosity up. It seems they were off to have a look at Diogenes whom I hadn't seen for ages myself. So I tagged along, camera in hand.
Off we went down a croft towards the sea and soon a troop of sheeps joined in the stroll.
There they are, The Crofter and Donald. It could have been a Murdo but here he was a Donald. Lives over there on the other bit of the island and everything.
Looking at the coows and all. Pointing, saying important sounding things and The Crofter nodding vigorously. I took that as a positive sign. Mr Donald liked the look of Diogenes and why shouldn't he?
I left them to talk business, came home and sloshed some chemicals over my film.
The Crofter is hard at work in the tooth factory catching up after his travels and what have you. Esmerelda, Rosenhild and Eric are 'enjoying' their first blow as the warm winds rush across the croft.
It was a bit better yesterday - if you like that sort of thing. Very warm and a great view across The Minch to the mountains of the mainland. [If you can see them, it's going to rain. If you can't, it's raining...]
There we are; the crofter in his factory - making teeth. What with all these new mouths to feed he better get cracking.
Oh yes, there are some Shetland Coows for sale if you want them. All lovely and what have you.
There's always time to stop for a bucket of sweet tea - and pose for the obligatory photograph. And gaze lovingly at his Pile of Rust outside. Gemma is going to very busy when she arrives later this year - renovating the PoR and milking the coows!
Mr Crofter was all eyes for the ladies, although he has a little something for Eric I have to tell you - what with his thick neck and massive rump. Eric the Bull not The Crofter. Although now I come to think........
Eric was keeping an eyes on Rosie and Rhianna - or whatever they are called. Having a quiet word in their shell-like as the other girls shouted and cried.
Of course The Crofter had to consort with the other buyers. Talk the talk and walk the walk. The latter may have been his tight jeans though. As it happens, there was a cafe there at the Mart. Not really worth going all that way for mind you but I did indulge and celebrated the deal with The Great Man with a strawberry cream tartlette. Eh? We were playing the part. Don't go on at me!
Soon it was time to load the goods. The box on wheels was lined with dried grass stuff for the beasts to sit on. Mr Crofter was still very happy at this point. I think I even caught him smiling. Perish the thought.
Mr Crofter and I, yours truly the diarist, took off across The Minch the other day. On the ferry. Only, I had to rise from my fitful slumbers at 4.30am to catch the early ferry [slaps head at the folly of it all]. What was I thinking? Well, if you must know, nothing much at all. Obviously.
We went in the Pimpmobile towing a huge box on wheels which slowed progress somewhat, caused consternation to The Crofter at the rising temperature of the cooling water but, and this is the important bit, looked the part. Oh didn't we look the part? I was almost tempted to tie a scarf round my hair and everything - but I really didn't want to frighten the locals.
We had an appointment with a lady in the less than salubrious end of Dingwall. At Dingwall Mart to be precise. It felt like one of those dodgy assignations you see in equally dodgy AmeriCan films. All flashing headlights and plain brown envelopes changing hands. There was the lady with her wheels phoning her,,,, her friend while The Crofter took it all in, smelt the air and played the part.
We'd been grilled by Germans earlier in the day when we were refuelling [scrambled egg on toast - lovely] at a transport cafe [The Crofter takes you to all the best places you know]. We didn't mention the war[s] but did have a conversation about sheeps, coows and the like. I hope we didn't give too many secrets away.
In no time, the assignation time had arrived. The goods were there. The buyers too. The middlelady did the deal and soon Mr Crofter had two new lovely ladies to play with and Eric to keep them in order - and in calf.
The best thing is, these coows are lovely and calm.
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.