There's always washing to be done - especially with Widdle around. Mum Crofter does it. Maybe the returnee to the island from Bangkok might do some as well - in between renovating the PoR, clearing up after Widdle and cutting the sheeps hair. Maybe.
When you have Blackish Hebridean and White Woolly-back sheeps on the croft, when the hair-cutting is done and dusted you have two piles of sheeps hair. It usually lays there till The Crofter or his Dad get round to putting it on the compost heap - such is it's value.
It was very hot when the deed was done. Mr Crofter said it was too dry and needed to rain to keep the piggies cool and water the grass. Now it's raining. It's probably the wrong type of rain though.
There's a new road appearing in the village, over there [gesturing uselessly in front of the pooter]. It's for a shed of something. A quite big shed so Mr Crofter got in a local MacIver for the job of arranging the field in a particular way. With a digger. I think Mr Crofter would have liked to have played with the digger but he had to earn a crust so others can eat one.
Meanwhile, Widdle - who is growing fast - does what she does best - in the house mainly. Apart from trying to eat electric cables that is.
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.
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.