The Crofter enjoys another photo session as he gently contemplates the arrival of Gemma at the weekend - hopefully now fully trained in the black art of tractor restoration since I noticed another, hopefully non-vital piece fell off the PoR the other day.
Obviously the Crofter is very relaxed about the state of affairs!
There he is. Managing The Croft and the tooth factory while Mater and Papter are off island and Gemma about to arrive in a few days. The paintbrushes are all read for her - as is Widdle.
Of course The Crofter doesn't really look like this, I took this snap a few years ago. He looks much more handsome and really happy these days. My, he even smiled last night when he came up for an evening chatette.
There's a time of year when the Crofter has to be light on his toes. Leaping this way and that, waving his delicate arms about in the most adorable way as he plays to the crowd and does his best sheeps dog impression.
It's time for the fank and the sheeps need to be gathered off the croft and trailered to the fank itself.
Mr Crofter gets his doting flock into position for the Dipping Dance.
Dad Crofter tells the sheeps to look at The Crofter as he begins the dance.
Move one; the arm wave with bended knee.
Move two; approach to mother with outstreched arm - as much as he can be bothered anway.
Just imagine The Archer's theme tune. Or Better still, listen here to get you in the mood. Or not as the case may be. I rather like a dose of The Archers from time to time but others cannot stand them.
Anyway, Mr Crofter gathered his sheeps for The Dippping Fank with young Shaun to help him. The dipping fank is where the sheeps get a swim in some ghastly chemical to help their wool stay light and controllable or something. And it's a great place to catch up with the gossip or moan at the photographers that come!
I went along anyway with the Croation man from the most boring town in Croatia apparently. I might show you a few snaps soon.
Oh doesn't he look handsome? In that island sort of way. Well, if you squint a bit through one eye and everything. And the Crofter looks nice too. Bit frayed around the edges and all. Maybe it was the hassle of moving things from there to there. Getting the sheeps to come in onto The Croft.
It's the dipping fank today and the sheeps get their swim in the chemicals. Even Fluff does! Mr Crofter sir has been whizzing here and there tailed by Croation photographer Denis - here for a few days to snap up the smiling good folk of Tolsta.
There I was wandering around camera in hand when the big huge tractor - all shiny and nice - came trundling past with The Crofter behind, proudly sat in his Pimpmobile trailing a trailer.
I followed the convoy into the field as I suspected SOMETHING WAS GOING TO HAPPEN. It did, The Crofter sold a coow or three to the nice man in the shiny tractor. But first the coows earings had to be changed as they clashed with the colour of he new tractor or something. This I might add was what they were doing in the snap above. They were not training for an aerial display, or rehearsing a cowboy move at a rodeo but merely tweaking an ear or two.
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.