Kept in the dark and cold.

Once upon a time, there was a farm without a fire. Now, the fire was ordered in Autumn last year and lo! it finally arrived.
The fire installer was also contacted in Autumn last year and verily he agreed to install the fire.

The fire installer lived in a house technically next door to the temporary house which the family without a fire at their farm were renting. I say technically due to the distances in remote places but he was a neighbour albeit a new one.

The fire installer was asked to install the fire once it arrived and yet again he agreed, but did not turn up. They are like hen's teeth in this area, fire installers.

Yesterday, The Farmer phoned Mr Fire Installer up, only to be told that the fire would not be installed due to the Farmer's Wife sabotaging a shoot!

The Farmer was shocked but not half as shocked as the Farmer's Wife.

The Farmer's Wife phoned up the fire installer to find out what the hell was going on and yes, he curtly told her that a shoot outside her temporary home in which he was party to as guest of the laird and his family, was ruined by the Farmer's Wife.

The Farmer's Wife explained to the fire fitter that no warning of the shoot had been given, no note, phone call or even a knock on the door. Had she known, she would have taken her children out for the duration of the shoot.
As it was, she did not see the cars arrive as they parked to the west of her house - the side with no windows.
Her children were terrified as the shooting began *very close to the house*. Her daughter, like many other children with the same condition, had sensitive hearing to certain sounds and could not be consoled. The little four year old boy was screaming too.

The Farmer's Wife went outside to ask the gamekeeper to move the guns which were within the legal shooting distance from the house. Much like this one in the photograph..

Her next door neighbour was also out to ask the gamekeeper why he had not been given warning and why the guns were shooting so close to his house. His wife was in tears from the shock of several guns being discharged all at once.

The Farmer's Wife and her neighbour were ignored. The guns continued, one even firing across the road.
The police were called.

Being a remote and rural area, the police arrived surprisingly quickly and took statements from the Farmer's Wife and her neighbour. Everyone was visibly shaken, the shoot had moved on.

The Farmer's Wife told the police that there was never notice given and one year, a shooter's dog killed all her poultry. No charges were made and it took a long time and money to replenish the stock out of her own pocket.

All the Farmer's Wife wanted was written notice of the shoots so she could remove her children and animals from the area. She was not a hunt sabateur, just a mother concerned about her children (and a responsibility to her dogs).

Nothing came of the complaint although the policeman said he would talk to a fellow policeman who shot and see what he could sort out.....

Nothing came of the cat who was poisoned by alpha chloralose even although it was the vet who reported the poison used and *not* the owner of the cat. Red kites flew here although not so many these days.

So, there we have it.

No 'and they all lived happily ever after' rather 'they had to go to a different county to find a fire installer and meanwhile felt pretty damned cold until one turned up so lit fires outside to keep warm'.

The woman felt so hurt at the allegations and felt furious that not one person from the shoot thought to ask her to her face why she wanted the guns further from the house or some warning.

It is only common sense or courtesy.

Sadly, a lack of, prevails.

The rattling bog

Fed up being cooped up in the house and feeling squiffy from the effects of the medication to kill the shingles, I happed up in the dung coloured duffle coat and we all went out today to gather more limbs from the birch trees which the Hydro men had cut.

Now what The Farmer had omitted to tell me was that the limbs were on the other side of the rattling bog, just behind the house.

The rattling bog is a permanent marsh with little pools of oily, stagnant water and in days of yore would have been home to a kelpie. Kelpies were river or marsh horses which lurked malevolently then carried poor unsuspecting travellers into the marsh for all of eternity.

It was just the sort of story we were told when young and gave you The Fear so you would not go near rattling bogs. The whole thing rattles and moves when you put weight on it like it wants to slurp you in.

Creepy place.

We skirted around the edge and wandered up the side of the river where the ground was solid. Right in the middle of that photograph is the spot where an enormous bull wandered and got stuck, a tractor tried to pull the bull out and the driver was lucky to escape as the tractor was pulled in too. They are there for all of eternity.

You really can imagine that a kelpie would live here.

We hauled the limbs back to the house and I felt completely exhausted. Perhaps next week would have been wiser to go back to quite strenuous work as the limbs were large and heavy. Oh well, there is always next week and more limbs.

I forgot how beautiful it was down by the river. It is a favourite spot and the river turns the corner then falls into a deep waterfall. It is quiet just now due a lack of melting snow.

Tonight, we have a sweet scented fire roaring, throwing out a good heat. You can smell the burning birch logs outside.

I wonder if the kelpie out the back can smell them.....

Locusts and pox

The good news is that the fire for the farm has finally arrived today despite being ordered in October but hey!

The not such great news is that it is minus silly figures outside and the fire needs to be put in.

Normally, it would not be a problem but something had not been right somehow with The Farmer and our youngest son. "Something behind the eyes" as my Granny used to say.

I have been given the role of Nurse Ratchett this past few weeks, wafting about with steam inhalations, decongestants, Calpol and the odd hot toddy, all to no avail.

The Farmer is very down indeed after the loss of his friend and I wondered if his resistance had lowered with all the events of the last few months... he and our young son took to flopping miserably on the sofa and punctuated the air with sniffs every few minutes. Drove me daft.

Well, it has all become clear.

Chickenpox!

As welcome as a pack of Tesco mince or a landowner's agent.

Then the water supply froze.

I am just waiting for the plague of locusts whilst applying calamine lotion to any waif that passes and eating enough garlic to hopefully stave off any germ that looks at me sideways.

Our Eldest son is holding the fort, feeding the cattle and sheep, keeping us all at arm's length. I caught a whiff of garlic when he flew in to grab some supplies (tobacco) and flew out again.

We just have to sit this out, scratch, sniff, inhale steam and the odd frozen fag outside, eat chocolate and garlic then wait for the thaw.

I do this for the sheer glamour of rural life, you know ;)

A good man.

The entire glen is in shock and mourning the loss of one of our own, the neighbouring tenant farmer.

A horrid accident occurred on Wednesday night and we woke up early on Thursday to the sad news.

Our neighbour was a lovely man, one of the farmers who quietly helped when my husband had his heart attack last spring.

The saddest thing I saw was when the other farmers met here to talk of their shock, how to help, memories of starting primary school, anecdotes, sentences begun but which were not finished...
Of huge men who have taken many knocks in life, openly crying.

Despite the presence of police and other emergency services, other neighbours asked if they could pass the cordons in order to feed the livestock and collies.
That broke our hearts.

Our neighbour had recently and romantically married his sweetheart in a secret and quiet ceremony. None of us knew but word soon gets out and we were all delighted for our friend and his new wife.

Farewell to a good man, good friend and neighbour. We will miss your cheery wave and big hearty laugh. We will miss your wonderful singing and lively wit, your amazing knowledge of cattle and your friendship.
You were like a brother to my husband.

Our love goes to your family. x

Aillidh

My friend's little eight year old girl has been bravely fighting Acute Myeloid Leukaemia and needs a bone marrow transplant.

We ask that people sign up to the Anthony Nolan Trust, especially men between 18 and 30. Someone may be a match for Aillidh.

The Farmer and I are too old at over 50 although the stem cells from our son's birth cord were donated only four years ago. Please look at the Anthony Nolan website to see how you can help.

Aillidh is beautiful, smart and has a wonderful sense of humour.

Her illness came out of the blue yet can be helped.

God bless the child and help her to get better. God bless her parents, siblings and grandparents. Give them all strength.

Strange light

Yesterday, we woke up to no power; the storm had brought down many trees onto the powerlines and we were one of thousands of homes without electricity.

The Farmer rigged up the inverter and we could choose which electrical gadget should go on.

The children wanted the television on, I wanted a heater and The Farmer wanted coffee so we democratically decided to go out instead. It was pretty raw and cold yesterday so we all muffled up well. Rosie looked lovely in her new hat and scarf, our little boy could hardly move in his duffle and jumpers and I looked like a bag lady. The Farmer vanished into the big shed for the day.

The children and I had a good day out - sort of a busman's holiday as we went to one of those farms with a cafe, small pigs and overpriced Emma Bridgewater pottery. I worried as the children went dangerously close to the pottery, immune to sensation with all the layers of clothing on.

We went outside to fuss over the pigs but it was absolutely freezing so we returned home by the back roads.

A tree had fallen on the road and a team of men with powersaws were busy clearing it up. The driver of the car in front of me was an old friend I had not seen for years so hugs and news were had.

When we got home, the power was still off so we rootled about in the dark for things to eat. I set a huge fire but this house is cold at the best of times so we made nests from blankets and quilts in a futile attempt to keep warm.

Rosie spotted the strange light on the hill first. I thought it was a planet until it moved.

The neighbourly thing to have done was to muffle up, gather all the children together, climb the hill in pitch darkness and see if anyone was lost.
The common sense thought was that this was madness, we would fall in bogs, get lost and end up on the freezing hill all night.

I wonder if it was the shepherd although the light was right at the steep edge of the hill. I am going to phone him today and find out if it was him. It is too steep for a vehicle and the light was too big for a torch plus it did not waver like a torch would.

The light was static for about 10 minutes then vanished.

The double thingy is my hand shaking, partly from cold and partly as I had to expose the shutter for 7 seconds but it is an odd light.
It never appeared again all evening but the electricity did a little later on.

I would love to know what was on the hill last night.

Welcome 2012!

Happy New Year to you all!

2012 has been gentle in it's infancy so far and touch wood.

The weather was not gentle, far from it...a few more garden renovations, limbs moved from the places they were dumped by the last gale, Nature changed her mind and decided the limbs would look better over there with an added swing and a few plant pots....

The Farmer and our eldest son are out with the chainsaw cutting some of the limbs up. We all complained bitterly when some 'logs' were hastily brought in during the storm, chucked on the fire, went up in a huge blaze and then the smell hit. An old telegraph post had been chopped up and the smell of creosote cleared the room. It lingered and refused to leave.

We could not open the windows because of the gale so took to sitting in the kitchen (where the fumes from the ancient oily Rayburn were only slightly less evil).

We have been slobs this year, so far.

Toys for small boys are being played with by small boys, painting by numbers painted carefully by Rosie, old copies of the Scottish Farmer read happily by the Farmer and I am attempting circular knitting for the first time. Badly.

We had a lovely First Foot from the neighbouring farmer.
The entire family was so chuffed to have a visitor that we plied him with food and drink, listened to all his stories - who had been born, married and died (I had no idea who half the poor deceased were as he called them by their farm names as is common here), new calves and the struggle to bring them into the world, gossip then after his system was 'well oiled', some cracking jokes which made me blush then shoo the children out of the room for a few minutes!

Pledges were made between The Two Farmers to go to the market together more often and possibly one or two local social events (bowling - sorry but it does not float my boat).

This is that time of year when you really have no idea what day it is, nor do you care. The children have melted back into the home 'routine', school and nursery forgotten, sleep times longer, eating when hungry and playing when they want.

It is wonderfully peaceful.

I was chuffed and shocked to find that I had lost 2 1/2 kilos over Christmas, despite initial piggery. I still have no appetite at all but no doubt it will come back with bells on.

Scotland seems to be slowly wakening up after her wild shehannigans over the festive season and is taking her time to get back to normal.

I'm ok with that, right now.

Slante!