The Perthshire Nazgul.

I have been thinking a lot about the Victorian methods adopted by certain areas in Perthshire. Some are positively Medieval, mirroring the quirky, old vennels of Perth which lead to the Tay. You are never far from the Tay or a council 'owned' property.
It is a very municipal town, Perth, but not in a good way.

We are preparing our son and ourselves for school. Home education went fairly well but there is so much work to do on the farm this year that we would need 48 hours in a day to manage everything plus  being remote, our son needs company and friends.

Once a child is registered for school, they are in 'the system' and if for any reason things do not work out well with that school then it becomes difficult to revert to home education without the council intervening.
I fully understand the reasons given for intervention; they do not wish a child to be used as labour, as a baby sitter for younger siblings or if there is cause that a child is being harmed or worse.
There is no leeway for parents simply wishing to home educate their children - ideas of abuse or harm would never cross their minds. Perhaps mainstream school is not working for the child.

Perthshire council became very medieval when I home educated Rosie whilst waiting to go to court over her Secondary education.
Rosie responded very well to home ed and excelled in life skills. She is a superb cook, has an aptitude for gardening and the uses of herbs; culinary and medicinal, she had a couthy way with animals and knew how to deliver a lamb or how to feed an orphaned calf. She knew trees and plants, which poisonous ones to avoid plus enjoyed art exhibitions and ballet, when a troupe came to town.

Lots of these skills are not taught in schools.

One evening, the council education Nazgul descended on the area. This evil dragon swooped and descended at the wrong house (my eldest son's house) and was rude to him at the door. He refused to let her in on the strength that a) she had been rude and b) he had no idea who she was and c) it was 7.30pm and she could have been *anyone*.

P&K council tend to have marvellously puffed up ideas of themselves and woe betide if I had not been there to answer to the Nazgul (despite her going to the wrong house).

The week in court arrived. Hideous place court. There was a murder trial going on at the same time as my appeal to get Rosie into a special school and I should have been helping with the harvest that week.
Junkies hid syringes in the toilet paper roll and stole the soap for washing your hands. Naively, I thought the blue light in the toilets was for killing flies. My eldest son told me is was to make your veins disappear in case you were going to inject something into them.

All week, the invisible council shuffled in. All those who I had tried to speak with in the months before the trial but who had been 'busy' or 'on holiday' or 'in a meeting'. Here they all were, each more like a character from a Breughel painting, shuffling in, spouting municipal guff, shuffling out to get their expenses.

Their very expensive lawyer asked me why I had not met the Nazgul the night she swooped.

I tried to tell them that I was with my Dad but the words stuck in my throat. I wanted to say that I lived miles from the house she visited and that she was an evil dragon who had no good way with children. I wanted to ask why I was being treated like a criminal and why a Kafkaesque trial for the right to educate a child at the school which was best *for her*?
The council lawyer accused me of choosing this school "As a lifestyle choice".

That makes me spit bullets to this day as it was such a glib and stupid statement. Who was I going to boast to, the sheep? It was not going to be to the cattle as we sold them to pay for a trial term. We worked our socks off and had no social life whatsoever in order to help our daughter and keep our farm going.

I had not met the Nazgul that night because I was in the hospital with Dad and he died that evening.

We won the appeal.
 Rosie won the right to go to the special school and she is a different person as a result. She is confident, able, happy and has friends now, thanks to her school, the pupils, teachers and care staff.
 It was worthwhile standing in the fetid air of the Nazgul, Breughel weirdos, Kafkaesque trial, murderers and junkies so my daughter could have a chance in life. Sometimes you do things for your children because you love them and know what they need...and not because you fancy a lifestyle change.

Perth and Kinross.

Your mental health emergency system stinks. Your education services team were hideous and so narrow minded, they could all look through a keyhole with both eyes.
You award yourselves meringue titles like "Convener of Scrutiny" whilst the infrastructure crumbles in the county, roads become lethal, rivers flood and the rural 'services' cease to exist.
You are blinded by the foolish 'aristocracy' and are corrupt to the core. Allegedly. said through gritted teeth.
There now, it is out and said.

And the Nazgul never came to much, did they?

A curious and unusual day.

Nothing extraordinary ever happens here. Until today.

We were leaving to go up to the farm to see what needed doing when we saw something unusual on the hill in front of the house. We had a look through the binoculars but could not fathom what on earth we were looking at.
Our little boy thought he could see Father Christmas, Rosie thought she could see an emperor.

The Farmer went up the hill to have a better look as he was concerned that something was not quite right. Gracie the collie went with him and began to bark as she arrived at the scene first.

Sorry about the blurred photo but it was taken from a distance with a zoom lens and no spectacles.

The Farmer stood and conversed with the person for quite a while then eventually returned and told us that this man was doing an ancestral ritual to reclaim the land. He was in full ceremonial regalia yet barefoot. He asked that The Farmer respect his desire to pray and give him space.
Normally, anyone who wishes to reclaim land would be lauded in this household yet something was not right.
The Farmer and bairns went off to tend to the cattle and my two lovely neighbours and I climbed the hill to see for ourselves.

I won't go into detail out of respect but we found a man who was really quite unwell and who had been sleeping rough in a very local location (unknown to anyone) whilst on his own private quest.

As it started to turn dark and cold, we led him off the hill, under the dodgy electric fence and through the stream as it is the safest way off the hill.

My neighbours invited the man into their home, gave him bread and he requested some water. They listened quietly when he began rambling and treated him with utmost courtesy and respect. I slipped next door to phone our doctor to ask advice and was told to phone for the police.

The police took quite a while to arrive as we are so remote here but once they arrived on the scene, they were kind and patient with the man. He was determined to go back up the hill and remove his clothing as his quest was unfinished. He told them that he had been sleeping rough in our area for a week (yet none of us had seen him). It took them four hours plus extra back up to take the man to a place of safety. Things became scary at one point and it was so alien to hear screams and shouting fill this quiet glen.
I dread to think what would of happened if he had slept outside on the hill, naked, as was his wish. It is bitterly cold and wet outside plus the wind is whipping up.....

My neighbours and myself feel awful about what has happened, very shaken yet we are relieved that the man will be safe and warm tonight. My kind and gentle neighbours probably saved that man's life.

Poor man. I hope he gets the help he needs and that he recovers soon.

Post script- I'm not quite sure how I feel about the way that the man's eventual admission was handled. The police were very good at handling a very difficult situation but seriously, if someone became agitated through, say, hyperglycaemia or some similar illness, handcuffing them and putting them in the back of a van?
I am shocked that there appears to be no provision of a doctor and ambulance for someone at risk to themselves through mental unwellness in Perthshire.
Perthshire has many outmoded traits but this one really shocked me. It seems positively Victorian.

My neighbours have gone to the hospital this evening to see if the man is settling and also to return the Bible which he dropped.

Bliadhna mhath ur!

Happy New Year!

Our family saw in the New Year with a modest celebration (the children had found and eaten most of the 'fancy' nibbles hidden for visitors) so with a dish of Bombay mix, some Christmas cake, lemon barley water and BBC Alba, we hooched, hugged and sang our way into 2013.

I'm not a huge fanatic of resolutions as I always have a fly puff or lump of cake just after midnight thus instantly squashing any good intentions flat, however this year I am going to learn some basic Gaelic.
We sang in Gaelic at school but it was only taught in lesson form to those who either excelled at German or were native speakers and sadly, I did not fit the criteria.

The musicians on BBC Alba included the amazing Duncan Chisholm, formerly of Wolfstone and an ex nextdoor neighbour of mine plus I recognised several very familiar faces in the audience and felt a bit home sick for the ways they celebrate in the North.

The finale was the Runrig song, 'Alba!', the passion in the voices was infectious and when I looked up a translation of the lyrics, I felt fired up with a love for our country that would have ignited a damp peat fire.

Alba
Scotland

Air sgiath a' seoladh nan neoil
'S an domhain liath
Mar dhealbh a' tighinn beo tro na sgothan
'S mi a' tilleadh gu tir

Alba nam beanntan ard
Nan acraichean lom
Thairis air na lochan mointich
Nan coilltean 's nan gleann

Alba

Alba

Ach 'se sealladh leointe is gann
Tha an seo aig ceann thall an linn
Talamh alainn nan daoine
Fhathast an lamhan duine no dithis

Cuibhlean stolda mu dheas
Na fasaichean a tuath
An taigh-mor falamh an Dun-Eideann
Gun chumhachd gun ghuth

Alba

Alba

Sibhse chuir achadh ri achadh
Taigh ri taigh
Gus nach bi ait anns an tir
An gabh sibh comhnaidh air leth

Ach 's math dhomh bhith seo an drasd
A cur failt air a' bhlas
'San tir a tha cho ur dhomh an diugh
Is a bha i nuair bha mi 'nam phaisd

Alba

Alba

--oOo--

This flight is sailing through the clouds
And the blue heavens
The homeland appears like a developing photograph
Through the mists as I return to land
I see Scotland of the high mountains
And the empty acres
Flying low across the moorland lochs
The forests and the glens

Scotland

Scotland

But it's a wounding and a hollow sight
Here as we reach the end of the century
The beautiful soil of the people
Still in the hands of the few

I see the wheels of industry at a standstill
And the northern lands wasted
And the empty house in Edinburgh
Without authority or voice

Scotland

Scotland

You that have laid field upon field
House upon house
Till there be nowhere for you to be placed alone
In the midst of all the earth
But it is good for me to be here now
As I welcome the warmth
In this land that's as exciting for me today
As it was the day I was born

Scotland

                                                  ................................................................

I hope with all hopes that this year sees a dynamic leap for our country and people, an end to the inequality which stifles our collective abilities, our health and our dignity.

Today, our family are off to assess what needs done inside our farmhouse in preparation of our return there because this year, we are going home.

May your year be blessed with health, happiness and enough wealth to provide you with what you need.
And here is to our country.

Alba!

A nip and a grouse.

I hope you have all enjoyed the festive period.

We are getting ready for the next few days which sort of morph into one; that strange period of New Year when you never know which day it is and visitors that you have not seen since last New Year appear.
I'm eager for life to revert to normality, sans tinsel and Christmas cake. The farm work continues regardless of holidays and the children are missing their friends. (This is not my favourite time of year!)

The weather is still pretty stormy, we have even had a smattering of snow which soon melted and made the burn swell up again. The cattle are dry and sheltered inside and the strange thing I noticed was that they seemed much smaller. The Farmer told me that the cattle's size was 'One of those things' and had something to do with the Belgian Blue genes.
They are stocky and healthy, just small, Lilliputian cattle who are not in the least bit intimidating, docile and a joy to work with. I'm studying some of my father's livestock books to try and find out the cause of dwarfism in some types of cattle.

On the Eve of Christmas, we received a letter from the man who is assisting us with the Battle of the Roof; the estate want us to provide a letter from the bank which proves we have £50,000 in order to do up the inside of the farmhouse once repairs are carried out on the roof.
This is £50,000 that the estate have estimated we would have to spend on their house. This in addition to a rent rise notice so you spend your money to do up their house and pay extra for the privilege. I will need a new cap as my old one is worn out with doffing.

Given that we have spent the last few years buying then storing all the articles necessary and the fact we would be doing all the work ourselves, £50,000 seems rather excessive unless you are installing a solid gold bath with real swans holding the soap, mink baffies and diamond toothbrushes.

How would the laird feel if I asked him to prove that he had fifty grand in his account?

What is sauce for the goose and all that.

2013 soon....how about Scotland wakening up and properly losing feudalism?

Slainte mhath.

Roaring rivers.

I wish it was possible to let you hear the noise outside. It has rained incessantly, turning the small stream in the picture into a wide torrent.
The river at the back of the house is so loud that I thought there was a lorry in the yard. This house lies between  the two bodies of water which join then fall into a waterfall.
We are high enough not to become flooded although the tiny burn to our left has burst it's banks and is now in the garden.

I think we are just about organised enough for the forthcoming festivities but if anything has been forgotten then too bad. We are not going anywhere until the roads are no longer little rivers in their own right.

This is the wildest that I have seen the river in nine years and while I know it will recede, I'm a little bit scared tonight.

Keep warm, dry and safe. x

One of those days plus an invite.

You know the sort of days - you begin early with good intentions then as the day unravels, it all goes wrong, hideously so.

I think the zenith (or possibly the nadir) happened when our young son stood at the top of the stairs and his father threw socks up to him, the idea was that son would pair his socks and put them away in the drawer.
Son duly wanted to throw something back so picked up a phone charger.....phone charger made contact with The Farmer's head. Blood and staggering. Shock.

I went into Nurse Ratchett mode and cleaned up the worst of the mess. Our son sobbed and sat wide eyed until he became placated with a small bag of Moon Sand; this gave me time to carefully butterfly stitch the mashed skull.
Mid stitch, I heard voices shouting "Cooee", a couple were in the hall with an invite to the localish school Nativity play.

Why do people just walk in to our house? I think it is a farmhouse thing but I would never walk into somebody's house or hall.
Anyway, they were met with a blood soaked, wild eyed, scissor wielding fright. It was a Bad Hair Day to boot. The man took a step back and his wife did a nifty sidestep which took her outside.

I felt so rude. "Thank you very much for the invite and I would ask you in but I'm stitching my husband's head although you are welcome to come in".
They didn't want to come in, made excuses and practically ran back to their car. I went back to the slightly concussed Farmer and Moon Sand clarted small son.

The coal run was cancelled, we were not going anywhere until hot sweet tea and painkillers were dished out,  The Farmer bundled into a chair and told to rest then told to rest some more as he does not feel comfortable just doing nothing.

Thank you, Eldest Son for turning up and saving the day. Big brother took his small brother to after school club so The Farmer and I had a bit of peace for a couple of hours.
I hoovered up the Moon Sand, mopped up copious amounts of blood, made more hot sweet tea then just enjoyed the peace.

"I look like I've been dehorned, if I had been a unicorn" said the Farmer.
"That would have been easier, I mean, it is heaving with unicorns round here".

"And we found the phone charger !"

It's beginning to look a lot like harassment....

I wanted to sing that 'It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas' with the snow lying deeply around the farm, instead, we are back to day three without water.

The supply has not frozen but rather it has been turned off. Three days of manually supplying the livestock with snow and water hauled up from the burn.

The estate, of course, have not replied to my emails yet they did recently send a reminder of the outstanding water charge for the farm cottage. The one where we fitted a filtration system from our own pocket so the tenants there would not become sick then die like my father did.

We had to report ourselves to Animal Health as we were unable to supply our livestock with fresh water or at least not enough to cover twenty five cattle in the shed.
When this happened before, The Farmer did his best to supply the livestock plus ourselves with water and as the power was off, we had no way of filtrating the emergency supply which we needed for thirty nine days. Yes, of course we became sick and yes, The Farmer had a heart attack from the sheer physical exertion in sub zero temperatures.

We have provided bottled and jerry cans of water to my son who is living at the farm (someone must stay there when the cattle are inside) but I have only just discovered that our nearest neighbour, a blind pensioner, shares our supply and has been gathering snow for three days.

This is 2012, isn't it?

I do not give one whit about legislation, civil matters, legal matters. They are overly complicated, mostly nonsensical and have been created by pen pushers who go home to a clean, running water supply.
I would ask these faceless bureaucrats,where is the humanity? You do not have to sodding well lug buckets of water up steep hills all day or shovel loads of snow (which melts into a tiny amount of water).

Quote from the Code of Recommendation for the Welfare of Livestock Scotland paragraph 54

54 There should be enough water available for at least 10% of housed cattle to drink at any one time. Water troughs - especially those in loose housing or cubicle units - should be designed and placed where: they are protected from fouling; and there is a low risk of the water freezing in cold weather. where there is sufficient space and easy access for all stock and dead-ends are avoided. You should keep water troughs or bowls thoroughly clean and check them at least once a day to make sure they are not blocked or damaged, and the water is flowing freely. Checking for blockages is equally important where drinking nipples are used. Provision must be made for providing emergency supplies of water.

"Provision must be made for providing emergency supplies of water".

Shame such a legislation does not exist for humans.

Update: I contacted our MP and goodness knows what was said and to whom but within half an hour of phoning him, we had a visit from the estate, a telephone apology plus the promise of several large tanks full of water for the *livestock* (nb none for humans) plus a pump to fill the troughs.
Most of the glen have now had the water supply halted as from this evening and nobody seems to know why this has happened or how long it will be off.
The estate has assured me that the elderly and partially- sighted gentleman neighbour will be given proper drinking water.

Many thanks to Gordon Banks MP, Christine Sinclair and Haldis Scott plus all the support here and on Twitter.