spring

Stuff is springing up all over the place: the first lambs in Aird which led to a series of stock-based conversations with Roddie MacDonald; the Calmac summer timetable coming into force (now with added Sunday sailings!); lunches outside (sandwiches on Balivanich beach today); my bicycle lights running out half way to the gaelic class in Griminis and the Benbecula 10k. It sounds quite respectable if I say that I finished 34th but since there were only 41 finishers (gentleman number 52 made a bid for freedom by heading off the island to South Uist) it's not that great however I did manage to overtake two ladies who were deep in conversation. And I got a medal. And I got a personal best time by finishing under one hour. And there was free cake afterwards. And I got to meet the famous Father Ross who was running in full French style (jogging bottoms, woolly hat, gloves, hoodie pulled up) to avoid 'le froid'. Alas my delicate Scottish skins is getting blasted by all the attention and I'm nursing my second set of blisters which I'll have to wrap up before frolicking on Berneray tomorrow.

Drumbuidhe is also doing fine with the potatoes planted (charlotte, romano and harlequin) and two beds cleared, the raspberries cut down and the hedge trimmings cleared away. We also made a start on clearing out the oldest compost heap (I try to remain equable but C's only contributions to the garden in the past 3 years has been pulling up my seedlings thinking they're weeds; pontificating about my errors in potato cultivation and getting his acolytes to 'help' by dumping grass cutting on closed compost heaps ... hey ho).

C has found a new acolyte in his joiner Ravi which is good company for C but is leading to the standard initial problems as Ravi misreads the situation (C encourages people to think that he rules his wee kingdom like Prospero whereas he's actually a visitor to my home) gets a rush of blood to the head and exploits C's frailty to provide ill-advised (and coincidentally pricey) work. The best case scenario is that Ravi's mortar joint between the aluminium roof and the stone wall will crumble by this autumn but unfortunately the worst case scenario is that it will pull out the new pointing as it cracks. C is now banned from doing anything to the fabric of the building (see garden comments above) without explicit approval from me although I have no doubt he will forget this when he meets the next new acolyte.

He's back down in Glasgow at the minutes sounding calm but a bit sulky - the current government funding for wind turbines mean that we must get one installed (and by 'one' I mean a turbine that generates useful amounts of electricity and doesn't fall down which kind of rules out C's twenty variations on a Darrieus). On the positive side C's spending on his turbines (about £20,000 pa for the past 3 years and probably £100,000 plus over the past twenty years ....) mean that the budgets required for a turbine that actually works hold no fear for me. On the negative side, a functioning wind turbine will play havoc with his Prospero act.

But enough pondering over parental sulking - here's a fabulous bit of saffron bread that will make anyone smile:

make a dough with:

250g white bread flour

50g butter (rubbed into the flour)

1 sachet yeast

100ml warm milk infused with a good pinch of saffron

1 tablespoon poppy seeds

1 beaten egg (keep a wee bit over for glazing)

1 tablespoon sugar

1 teaspoon salt

roll out into a rough rectangle and fill the centre with a paste made of

100g softened butter

80g caster sugar

50g ground almonds

150g dried chopped apricots

finely chopped zest from two oranges

wrap the rectangle up into a parcel and turn it over so the rough bits are hidden on the bottom. Slash the top diagonally and leave the bread in a draught-free place (I use the oven) to rise for a couple of hours. When it's risen to your heart's content, brush the top with beaten egg and bake it for 30 minutes at 200C. All very pagan