Saturday, 31 December 2011

And a kick in the pants to 2011

What an unpleasant and difficult year it has been.

The final sting in the tail was to present the entire family with Norovirus or similar so we are seeing out the horrible old year whilst flopping on the sofa like beached fish, drinking copious amounts of water, unable to eat.
Even my hair is sore.

PieDog and Gracie are delighted to feast on all the special Christmas/New Year food and our pathetic attempts to walk them up the hill.

The good things this year have been incredible support, letters, emails, phone calls and generosity when our story went 'public'.
Your support has meant a lot to us and helped us stand up to the bullies when resolve was failing.

Things are nowhere near resolution yet but the New Year will see a new fight for our home/water and I will update with news.

The 'I hope you fall in a dung heap' awards 2011 go to the following:-

Elmer Fudd - you are not Rambo. Grow up, learn manners and how to close a gate. And stop telling lies.

Ditto to your 'mentor'.Times twelve.

Postie - stop swearing at and trying to kick the dog.

Richard Lochhead - for so many reasons.

The entire Tory government- for so many reasons times twelve plus VAT.

So, off you go, 2011, quickly. Glad to see the back of you.

Here is a glass (of bottled water until stomachs have settled) to you all.

I hope 2012 is a better year, so to your health, happiness, love, home and prosperity.

Let's hope it is good. x

Tuesday, 27 December 2011

Two mornings after the night before.

Happy belated Christmas!

Today is that floaty time when all the fuss and preparation of Christmas is over, you are not entirely sure which day it is as it feels like a Sunday yet the time holds in limbo until the New Year is over.

We feel a little like these sleepy creatures, today.

Our barley was collected from the farm on Christmas Eve, so it was both exciting and a relief to see it go.
Christmas Eve is also our eldest son's birthday so we celebrated the beginning of a new year with him as well as the end of the harvest for us.

When I look back to this time last year, I am thankful for the very mild weather we are having now and pray that it stays like this. Yes, the wind has artfully rearranged the garden and even moved the shed but the mild weather ensures that the taps have not frozen and moving around is so much easier.

I hope you all had a lovely Christmas.

Our Christmas was quiet and I admit to crying a lot this year because I missed my Mum and Dad even although they have been gone a long time.
I cried with overwhelming emotion at the kindness of the strangers who sent us gifts, so many beautiful things... so much thought and consideration from people who remained anonymous yet who sent love with every present.

Thank you so much.

It was as if my Mum was there as I unwrapped my presents. The same love and thought, the same choice of lovely scents, the warm mittens and scarf to protect against the winter winds...

The gift of Love.

We are nearing the end of a very difficult year and I know that our family will have an almighty fight on our hands next year - how I long for all these fights to end.

Life is bittersweet - the love and support of strangers and the battle against...well, you know...

I hope the strong winds blow away the negative and blow in the positive. May it sweep away all the blights and stains and the ferocity die down to a gentle breeze.

And may it carry Love and Peace to you.

Thursday, 1 December 2011

A toast

We sort of missed St Andrew's Day yesterday.

There was a lot of research to do, sheds to prepare for the cattle coming in for winter, rough weather to contend with. It was really rough yesterday, icy cold wind and sleet plus a driech grey light which could be used as a new Farrow & Ball paint colour on posh parlour walls.

It was late in the evening once The Farmer and I sat down. Our little boy was asleep in bed so we could relax a little.

I could not relax at all and felt frozen. Yesterday was a bit full on and the sleet had chilled me to the bone.

The Farmer brought me a hot toddy and a woolly blanket. The toddy was thick with honey, boiling hot and the strong smell of whisky told me there was a generous measure.

I don't like whisky, truth be told and am not a drinker but a hot toddy is different as it warms you like no other substance.

So here is a belated toast to all Scots, their kith and kin and to those abroad.

Here is to the future of our country, where we can pride ourselves on equality, where we can dilute our dram with clean water, where those without homes can be housed in some of the thousands of empty houses.

Here is to progress in land reform and all those who work tirelessly to campaign for our land to be freed from those who do not look after it properly and exploit land and Man.
Here is to the proper death of feudalism. Freedom of land and people.

Let us drink to the prospect of citizens able to provide their families with food grown from their own piece of land and a weaning from the dross sold in the large supermarkets.
To city children enjoying the countryside and learning new skills.
To the farmers of the present and the future. To all those who need our produce and support us.

Take a large drink to the toppling of the grotesque statue which dominates Golspie and which symbolises the very source of the wounds which never heal. People do not need a daily reminder, it is history. It is etched on their souls. Time to bury that entire vulgar episode and all those who were and still are responsible for clearing people from their land, plant rowan trees on top and move on.

I am toasting to a very different Scotland than the one I see now. I am drinking to the one that Wendy Wood told me to fight for. She told me it was worth fighting for and never give up the fight, regardless of the dangers.
It might benefit some of our government to reread her work as they appear to have selective memories regarding the people of Scotland and the land.
It would be wise of them to read Andy Wightman's "The Poor had no Lawyers" and consider making it part of the National Curriculum. To listen what the man has to say and implement his proposals.

The toddy went down in one followed by a small shiver from the effect it had on my frozen body.

If only something could act so well on our frozen land. Defrost it from the stasis it is in.

"Wha is like us"?

Wha indeed.