Blog Day.

I've been told I 'need' a blog by Peter Urpeth - the nice chap from Hi-Arts, so here goes.



It's all rather strange, being a private - some would say secretive person. It also seems fraudulent, as I live remote, in a caravan on a croft surrounded by wild things.

A blog is for someone urban, young, trendy with a sense of fashion, a minimilist apartment. Is not for someone who spends most days outdoors up to wellie tops in mud and shit and sometimes the hours of darkness hunched over a key board tapping in flash fiction.



As I say somewhere else, I write with the curtains closed, so know one sees. It's my dirty secret, or was until now.

It all seems a bit odd, a bit blabber-mouthed, but I will get used to it, just like the nail gun, the eccentric gas cooker, the device for ringing the male lambs. T'is only a tool after all.

One of this evening's tasks is to do link thingies. But first me and better half are to construct another hen house for Mrs Hopperty who is sitting on 13 eggs (mostly not her own) , under a scrubby tree.
She was run over years ago and has a strange gait, like a drunken sailor's. She rolls along, one leg bowed. I think she needs a disabled ramp really.
I got her for free as she stopped laying, so her previous owner said, was too ancient, but she lays fine tasty brown eggs every now and again. She raised a small brood last year of her own eggs.
Now she is sitting on mainly Scot's Grey eggs. They're very rare breed. The original crofter's hen.

I breed them - or rather the hens do.
Will be interesting to see what hatches out.