Category: isle of skye

We’re home again.

I’ve realised with this trip that however good it is to see folks, that I’m essentially a hobbit. Never happier than when I’m at home in my own bed.

We were welcomed back with this glorious sunrise.

The stags are roaring, there’s a distinct cold nip to the air and a light dusting of snow on the peaks. The ravens cronked their welcome from the old fir tree as the sun rose this morning.

And after packing off stepson and girlfriend who were house and cat-sitting for us whilst we were travelling, it’s just us and the cats again. Peaceful and quiet.

We’ve got a mound of washing to do, naturally, and I’m steeling myself to the work that needs doing on the Croft and in the polycrub now that we’re back. We still have late harvesting and pickling to do.

But it’s so good to be home.

We’ve been visiting family this past week.

We don’t get off the island very much these days, and being back in the world again, or at least the other world, seems very strange.

Yesterday we decided to try and do what normal people do and go shopping whilst close to a metropolis. We both needed boots/shoes and thought it would be easier to try them on physically than buy over the internet and have to return them if they didn’t fit.

So off we went to an outlet retail park.

It was a dispiriting experience and I was reminded immediately of why we’d chosen a different life, and how badly suited or prepared I was for re-entry into the “normal” world.

The retail outlet was full of cheap perfume, tinny-sounding background music and reduced goods. I absolutely hated it.

Hugh managed to find what he needed. I did not.

We traipsed from shop to shop, all happiness and life force draining slowly but steadily with each place that we visited.

After much searching, in desperation I did try a pair of ankle boots, but they wouldn’t do up and I left feeling dismayed that I was somehow too large now even for a pair of boots. I felt unworthy and embarrassed.

And I swore to myself that it was the last time that I would go “normal” shopping ever again.

Back to the anonymity of the internet and our little croft, I guess. I’m no longer a good fit for the wider world. I feel that I should scurry home to our quiet place and hide from judgemental eyes. I’m not sure that I want to leave again.

I feel a bit sad and emotional.

I’m late this year with my blackberry collecting, but there again everything has been late this year from a plant perspective so I tell myself that it’s fine.

The lane at the bottom of the croft is full of brambles. I’ve been watching them develop as we pass and promising myself that I would find the time soon. Yesterday was the day.

I’d been over to a friends at Drumfearn to drop off some homemade chutney. Laura is a very talented basket maker and willow weaver and she had made a berry basket for me.

It’s a lovely thing, woven with different types of willow to give a subtle effect. She’s very talented.

And so, even before the label was removed, it was pressed into service as I returned home and passed the blackberry bushes.

Despite being a small basket it holds a surprising amount and it took forty minutes to even fill the bottom.

Most of them have been frozen on a tray and added to my winter blackberry stash which I add to sausage traybakes and apple crumbles. But a cupful was reserved for my morning yoghurt and granola and very delicious they were too.

One day I will reach the nirvana of picking enough berries to make blackberry wine. Joanne Harris, the author, has a lot to be responsible for – ever since I read her book BlackBerry Wine over ten years ago I’ve wanted to make some.

One day soon.

When the builders first cleared the site four years ago and excavated the house footprint and access track, they didn’t do a great job.

The access track was very roughly excavated, some type one was thrown down and no thought was given to drainage. A bit of an omission considering that Skye is one of the wettest places on the planet. All similar tracks in the area have drainage channels cut into the sides or down the middle.

The builders also refused to use geotec membrane to help hold the surface together on the slope, despite our suggestion to do so. We suspect that they’d never used it before, despite it being the de-facto standard for stabilising surfaces on slopes for decades, or that it was extra cost, and so we were told that “it wasn’t how they built around here”.

There are no drainage channels or pipes under or beside the track. This has resulted in the rain washing the finer materials out of the mix and huge ruts and crevices being carved out by running water taking the most direct route downhill, as water does.

At times the track has almost been impassable although we’ve tried to repair it from time to time. It was clear that temporary repairs weren’t going to cut it for much longer – it was time to do a proper job.

Husband and friend hired a digger, a roller and a whacker plate machine and have worked through this last week to dig drainage channels, lay geotec membrane, cover the drive surface with several inches of hardcore and compact it.

It’s still a work in progress but is looking so much better.

Due to the difference in level between the house floor and the ground we were also faced with the prospect of a long wheelchair access ramp for the front door. Necessary for building regs.

But no longer. The surface has been brought up to where the doorstep will be.

Luckily the weather stayed largely fair for the week of work, and so great progress has been made.

I’ve lost count of the tonnes of hardcore that have been delivered.

As I write the workers are taking a break and will have a well-deserved day of rest tomorrow before cracking on next week to complete the job.

Level surfaces! No potholes and crevices! We’ll hardly recognise the place.

Thank you Hugh and Andy.