Mr Crofter seems to have got it bad - so to speak. I ventured down the road, dodging the traffic jams to find Mr Crofter doing a bit of light dusting in his factory. Dusting? When did that arrive then? Must have missed that.
I might even be suffering from osmosis of the lung now. What I do for the right snap - even if it is not in focus and what have you? I think you'll find that focus is overrated. I read that somewhere.
We, the Diarist and my lovely partner Eve have had the call. The call from Ms Crofter [blurrily pictured above. I was caught off guard when she smiled. I'm not used to that] to come to share the table over food stuff. Hopefully not the arse-end of Diogenes on account of us being veggie and all that.
"How very lovely" Eve and myself have been saying to each other - and it is lovely. We wonder what The Crofter is after.
No, it's not the PoR. You should be able to tell that by the fact that it appears to be moving - at the moment. Out taking food for the poor coows on the apportionment no doubt. Ms G Crofter has side-lined the renovation of the PoR for the moment. She's in the village school teaching the kiddie-winkies Yorkshirespeak. I know, I know but I can't do anything about it can I? Tried to get her started with the tractor but apparently the school needs her more!
Meanwhile The Diarist, yours truly has broken another cusp off a molar. I shall be needing one of The Crofter's false teef meself soon!
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.
The Crofter girl Gemma, has not it seems got into the swing of the life on the island yet. The PoR still lies unattended and unpainted outside the tooth factory. Yes, Ms Crofter had to wrap Diogenes kit up after has was sectioned. Yes, Gemma has been cooking nutritious and tasty meals for The Crofter and yes Gemma has been keeping Widdle in order but the Pile of Rust still awaits her attention.
I'm not sure these here coows in The Crofter's possession would be that enamoured with the Crofter et al today. They, the Crofter family, spent the day making Diogenes into a kit. He wouldn't mind I suppose since he was dispatched the other day by men at the killing factory in town. All the same it is quite a sight to see the old boy on the table inside out so to speak.
Yes, it's that BoyShaun again, moving hay bales from there to here and possibly back again. He loves all that - being busy.
Mr Crofter was busy fabricating someone's dentures. Ms Crofter was [probably] slumped in front of the TV watching Crossroads - or whatever is on these days. The football is banned in the house at the moment due to Liverpool FC losing yet again. Was it Stornoway FC they played? Who knows.
It is duck weather at the moment. The croft is filling up with water and the ducks rush around in ecstasy while Widdle looks on in dismay. I think ms Crofter has been looking at recipes for duck recently so they had better be on their best behaviour!
It's The Crofter's spiritual home. Lewis Crofters in Stornoway just down the road. Here is the great man walking to get some hay for an amninal or two the other day. I think it's hay, something grassy anyway. Puts it on the trailer before taking it home. I suspect Mr Crofter is one of LC best customers.
Fashion seems to have arrived at The Croft now Ms Crofter us here. Mr Crofter arrived at chez nous the other night in his tuxedo and bow-tie. I'm guessing that might be Ms Crofer's influence. I think that's a good thing.
I managed to sneak and paparazzi snap or two of Ms Crofter the other day as she strode out in the latest Crofter fashion inspired by Galiano [and Clocks no doubt]. Bout time we had a bit of glamour round the Croft!
Notice the designer bucket held with grace and poise.
Keep your hair on! I didn't take this snap today but tis true I am posting it today. I am doomed, I know.
Not as doomed as the young boy sheeps were the other day. Ms Crofter held the torch affair while the nice young sheeps' Dr did the business ending their boyhood. Mr Crofter cringed with each cut I'm told. Twelve ex-boy sheeps and all. Obviously, Ms Crofter is really getting into crofting life as she seemed to almost enjoy getting involved in the days events. Maybe Gemma was imagining the culinary possibilities.
It is, you might be pleased to hear, not like this at the moment in the village. The rain is falling as it has done most of the day and the wind is now blowing too. So Ms Crofter has been baking. She managed a run around the village earlier I'm told - although goodness knows what for. And tickled the pigs as one does up here.
And now the evening has arrived - nearly - Ms Crofter will be making The Crofter straighten his bow-tie as they get ready to visit yours truly, The Diarist. :-)
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.