Wonders will never cease, the Barking Dog is quiet for once. It is still there but quietly looking on. And how did this come about? Well, some intensive training by The Crofters got tBG to shut up for once. Brilliant work.
The day to day goings on arfe still going on, here The Crofter telling the piggie her bedtime story.
Went down to see Dad Crofter the other day. Found him looking for that long-lost whatever it was he started looking for. We had a little chit--chat about this and that while the weather changed by the moment.
Mum and Frankie the miniture coow enjoyed the cooling mist
I couldn't let the recent visit of The Vet man, Hector Low pass without a suitable snap. Here Hector seen discussing the finer points of veterinary couture in between tickling the sheeps bottoms - or whatever he does.
Oh, I forgot to mention that Uncle Hector the kindly vet came to The Big shed and took the temperatures of the sheeps looked at their tongues and all that sort of technical stuff. Hadn't seen him for a while but I recognised his dulcet tones.
The sun has been shining a lot here you know. Not now as I write you understand, but before that. And since them little wooly-backed are getting a touch warm, the Good Crofter brought them in for a short back and sides and a tickle - obvs.
Now, them sheeps know the Good Crofter is a Good Man and everything - although they possibly know little of his committees and the like - and will follow him nicely. So nicely TGC took them back to his big shed in case the expected rain actually did arrive. It did.
I hadn't been down to The Croft for a few days - what with The Barking Dog and me being busy and all that. I'd heard The Croft and his good wifey and Dad Crofter had won a few trinkets at a local show with their buns, beans and sheeps. Not the mini-sheeps though, the Crofter is keeping those for a special occasion although I'm not what sort of occasion that is!
I found the Crofter and Dad Crofter playing hide and seek in the big shed. Seemed odd as the sun was shining outside and everything and you know it's always best to play outside. Turns out they were looking for some wire bits to start the Nice Tractor . Apparently, the electric box thing was flat - looked just like the others to me - and that meant the smoke producing engine bit wouldn't go. I added my unwanted knowledge to the situation and suggested they tow the thing out of the Big Shed with the Pimpmpmobile. They did that to my surprise and soon the very quiet tractor, a very Nice tractor was outside in the sunshine. The big string was found, knitted and everything so the Pimpmobile and the Nice Tractor were co-joined or something.
The Crofter had consulted his seaweed and said that rain was on the way so the sheeps had to go inside so they could have their haircut in the dry. You know, it's all so very complicated this crofting lark. You don't just leave them sheeps to enjoy themselves you know.
All is well at The Croft. The Crofter has been dividing his time between making a living making teeth, fitting the new kitchen with visiting father in law and winning prizes at the local show. As did Mrs Crofter. Well done you.
Emily smiled at me this morning in that knowing way that she does. That was lovely. A dog growled at me from in its pen and all was good
This was that day. Obviously. See that man there, the one that isn't the Crofter, well I can't remember who for the life of me that was. Walked with purpose that I can tell you. Helped The Crofter with the snack of grass stuff for the coows. But who he was / is, no idea.
Must be someone as The Crofter was up on an apportionment with him. Not The Crofter's apportionment but another one with a smidgen of proper grass on and everything.
Oh the wee Crofter girl Emily has gone off on her first road trip with The Crofter and Gemma along with fellow Hebridean sheeps breader Donald from the south isles. The Crofter took some of his best full-sized sheeps to the show as the chihuahua sized sheeps he has at home don't please the judges any
Meanwhile Dad Crofter is keeping the croft ticking over while they are away. Peace at last !
Of course Dad Crofter has been busy, here playing at being a handsome scare crow in the outside veg patch helpfully turned over by a working Tractor .
Twas a lovely day. A bit of cool breeze yet the shining sun kept us warm.
Now, I'll tell you this quietly since I must mention this to Dad Crofter; his croft couture seems to have gorn astray. A little needle and thread is required to keep up standards.
Nevertheless, Dad seems to have plenty of energy as he coaxes the mini tractor thing into the back of the shed to keep the Chinese FiveYearPlanMobile company as they await a tinkering. Mr Mini tractor thing needs brushes I'm told. What for I have no idea but it does look a tad dusty
Sorry and everything.
I have been serving penance for miss genderising Frankie - not Frank in my previous post. Apologies. You just can't tell these days.
I caught Mr Crofter Sir, 'im of the committees etc, playing with his machines in the Big Shed. Apparently, and I know you'll find this hard to believe, one or two of the machines are a little under the weather. There, I've said it. Just as well The Crofters don't actually read this.
The Big Cattle roundup was gathering pace. Eric and his pals were ensconced snugly in the ex-caravan place . Mr Crofter had the movable shed behind the pimpmobile now backed into the gate and a little corral built swiftly round the rampy thing.
Then the brave Crofter went off to bring the beasts in.
Here they come!
Oh no, gone again.
Here they come again.
Bother! [or words to that effect]
"Can you see if Chris is around" asks The Crofter and I dutifully go off to find him, prize him away from the footie and bring him to the scene.
Yes, I'm telling you about the Big Cattle roundup. Not that the cattle are big - though Eric isn't a small boy, or that they were a lot of cattle but it just sounds more impressive.
Oh how very brave The Crofter was, shouted, waved his stick and everything but Eric and Co were not for playing. They trotted this way and that enjoying themselves as The Crofter breathlessly followed behind, stick frantically waving.
Now, Eric is a big boy. I may have mentioned that before but he is a big kind softie. I know this from personal experience,I went to Dingwall with The Crofter when he adopted Eric. But he is big and if he wants to go left, he goes left. Right and you follow him right. Doesn't help in getting the coows back in a field at all. But along came Chris the hired hand, purposeful stick in hand, confidence oozing from his pores and Eric knew he was defeated. He came my way, his pals following behind. I smiled kindly as he came close and I shook in my boots, waved my - whatever I had in my hand [an Olympus OM1n for the photographically geeked] and miraculously Eric trotted into the temporary pen - a former caravan park bounded by string and typical leaning posts of Hebridean fences.
Mr Crofter Sir, 'im of the committees etc and hired hand Chris look out at Eric and pals on the moor.
Did I tell you about the big cattle roundup?
No, well if you are seated we'll begin.
The cattle got out. When I say 'the cattle' I mean four of the cattle got out. They were meant to be enjoying the delights of the Glen field that The Crofter uses from time to time but Eric and his pals were not too keen on that at all. So, almost every day they went walkabout but in the evening went back again aided by a homesteader nearby who kindly opened the gate to let them back in.
Since they must have heard about the new baby Emily, they decided to come all the way 'home'. Only when they got to the village, the road stopped them. they were not too keen on that at all.
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.