Tag: isle of skye

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Emergency Cake

Sometimes, when you’ve lived through two successive storms and the wind is getting up for a third wave, there is a need for Emergency Cake.

Today was such a day. As the wind roared around the walls of the caravan and the rain lashed at the windows, I looked outside and declared the weather so foul that it qualified as an Emergency Cake Day.

The key was not to go out to get any ingredients. Far too horrid out there. I would have been swept into a ditch in an instant. Not a good way to go.

So it was rather lucky that I just happened to have a jar of cherry jam and a small punnet of fresh cherries in the fridge, and some cream. I have no idea how that happened. The Seventies were calling me.

As regular readers will know, the oven in the caravan is tiny. One cake in my one square baking tin fills the whole cooking space. It’s a testament to how badly I wanted this that I was prepared to prepare and bake the cake twice (in the same tin) and sandwich them together stickily and unctuously with jam, kirsch, fresh cherries and cream.

And so, dear reader, two hours later both layers were baked. The filling was spread onto the base layer. The top layer was manoeuvred into place. There was much chocolate grating to hide the fissures.

No fancy piping gear here, I’m afraid. This is the Seventies at its most fabulously rustic in cake form.

Black Forest gateaux

Any locals fancying a slice had better battle their way to the top of our rain-lashed hill before it all disappears. A pot of tea and an inelegant, squidgy slice of lusciousness awaits.

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Storm Malik

Whilst storm Malik rages, whipping the tarpaulined piles of material stored at the front of the house into a frenzy, progress inside the house continues slowly.

The wind was huge last night. It was apparently gusting to about eighty miles per hour, and it was so loud that it was almost impossible to sleep. The caravan was dancing in the wind, walls flexing and straining hard against the webbing straps that hold it down.

Piles of building material on a calmer day

Morning brought a damage assessment between the storm flurries. Nothing too serious thankfully – a few pipes blown out of place, the bin and bits of wood and building material blown across the croft, and the cover on the rotary clothes dryer totally disappeared . I suspect it’s flown all the way to Norway by now.

We have a few more days of this predicted so we will be battening down the hatches and riding it out as best we can.

On the house front, we have an almost plasterboarded corridor and hall now. Progress.

Corridor

It makes such a difference to see walls inside rather than just spaces. I’ve been struggling with the kitchen design and colours, unable to tell how much light the room will have, but over the next few weeks I should be in a position to see exactly what it will look like. Then I will need to get my skates on and get finalising selections..

It’s true that these days we almost have too much choice. Although having said that, I can never find quite what I have in my minds eye. I seem to have a remarkable ability to love what is not trending at the moment, making it difficult to source. I will slap myself into decisions soon.

Kitchen still awaiting plasterboard and the light well

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Plasterboard progress

The two Dereks are plasterboarding for all they’re worth, and we are starting to have rooms emerge from the chaos.

The boot room

Husband has been working long hours to keep pace with the wiring and plumbing. The house is full of strange ducts and metalwork, like something from an industrial post-apocalyptic novel. It’s all slowly taking shape.

It’s strange how a bit of plasterboard changes the aspect of rooms. When we had open studs for walls and you could see through them to the next room, it was difficult to get a real sense of the solidity and space. Now the rooms have opaque, solid boundaries, giving them a feeling of volume. Makes it much easier to visualise fittings and furniture.

The plant room

As I write I’m sitting in the caravan in a burst of unexpected sunshine. It’s streaming through the windows infusing a bunch of gifted, slightly overblown tulips with an warm orange glow.

Spring is coming. Each morning it’s lighter a little earlier.

It’s coming.

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Plastering, wiring, ducting & kebabs

Now is a really busy time for the build. We have two guys (the two Dereks) busily and speedily installing battens and erecting plasterboard panels, with husband wiring and ducting alongside them.

It means long days and not much in the way of breaks. He’s shattered when he collapses in front of the fire each evening. A good tiredness, I think – one born of a long days manual labour and visible progress, but certainly tiredness. We’re neither of us as young as we were!

The best I can do is provide tea and food as it’s needed, and finalise the many remaining decisions on bathroom and kitchen finishes from the caravan.

When I’m not browsing tile sites and bathroom fittings catalogues, or calling Home Energy Scotland for advice, I spend much of each day making flatbreads, cake, quiches, stews and soups.

My latest attempt at urban food is kebabs! Sliced leftover roast lamb, shredded red cabbage, garlic and mint yoghurt, harissa paste and baked soft flatbreads. When you don’t have a takeaway on the island, you make them yourself. Probably much healthier too.

I’m not even pretending that the pear frangipane tart was anything other than an indulgence…we need yummy things right now.

I’m also reading this. An excellent book, if slightly terrifying. It’s about the disappearance of insects due to pollution, pesticides, chemical runoff, changes in farming practices and climate change, and is written very accessibly and compellingly. Dave Goulson is well qualified to write about this, being a Professor of Biology, an expert on insect ecology and an Ambassador for the UKs Wildlife Trusts. Get a copy if you can.

So progress on the build is steady as we move through the highland winter. I’m starting to think about seeds and have ordered seed potatoes, onion sets and garlic. We’re still eating red cabbage and kale from the croft, at least what the deer haven’t eaten.

Soon, now. Spring is coming. Not long now.

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Ducts!

They may not be big enough to crawl through, but what the MVHR ducts lack in girth they make up for in number…

It looks a bit like spaghetti-geddon at the moment, with the ducts going everywhere. These loose ends will be fed into a manifold over the appliance wall in the kitchen, hence the waving around in mid air look. Husband has assured me he has it all under control and I have, to be fair, seen much labelling and even checklist tables.

You can see from this photo how useful the posi joists are in accommodating pipes, ducts and wiring. The gaps between the steel sections are big enough to be woven between.

The plasterboards are also going up. It’s strange how much they change the dimensions you perceive in each room.

All in all, it’s feeling like a good start to the year. The rain and sleet showers come and go but watching them from the big windows at the front of the house whilst work continues within is always inspiring.

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The plasterers arriveth .. or not

The festive break is now truly over, the shortbread is finished and the cards are all taken down . I’ve left some twinkly lights up over one of the caravan windows because I feel that these dark days still need a bit of twinkle. It’s very cold here now, with icy days and occasional snow flurries over the hills.

Icy morning from the caravan

For the last few days husband has been sorting things out in the house in preparation for the plasterer.

Much iciness

The plasterer was supposed to start yesterday with the strapping, the wooden batons that are tied to the stud walls to support the plasterboard, but he is ill and rightly being cautious is delaying until he is recovered. Covid days, eh. One of our many new challenges.

Battens

The house is filled to the rafters with bales of rockwool insulation and pallets of plasterboard and insulation board ready to be fitted. When you see it piled up like this it looks as if there is far too much to ever fit onto the walls.

Filled to the rafters

I can’t wait for this next stage. Husband is ducting and wiring away in readiness for the MVHR and with him and the plasterers in the house at the same time it will feel like we’re about to take a leap forward in visible progress.

Building material waiting to be let in

Internal walls! It doesn’t take much to make me happy. Here’s to lots of progress in 2022.

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Storms and the Winter solstice

The winter solstice is nearly upon us. Somehow, this far north, in the long stretch of dark days, this date takes on a special significance.

From the 21st December onwards the days slowly start to get longer. There’s no appreciable difference in the amount of daylight in January, I always think – but by February it’s definitely slightly lighter. It’s good to feel that psychologically at least we’ve turned the corner and that spring is on its way. Much as I love winter.

Skye is definitely a winter island with its snowy peaks and wild winter weather. The year here has taught us to invest well in thermals, warm throws and plenty of blankets! I’ve recently found Vinted, a vintage second hand site that has proved fabulous for spare fleeces and wraps at very little cost. I seem to be building a wee nest of wool in the caravan on these cold days. 😊

I’m watching the clouds scud across the sky in the aftermath of extreme winds last night. It reached around 80mph around midnight, and we got very little sleep in the caravan whilst we were buffeted around like a small boat on an angry sea. Luckily the straps all held and apart from being slightly tired and grumpy we have escaped unscathed.

Breakfast this morning was a bleary-eyed affair with a second mug of hot coffee needed before being alert enough to get moving. We will need a quick spot check for damage.

I have a few more presents to wrap, the Christmas chocolate orangettes to make (the test batch were all distributed, eaten and declared good enough for gifts) and then we are about all set for the festive week. The preliminary air tightness test on the house is happening on Wednesday this week, so another milestone is imminent, and we will be very interested to see how it scores. Husband will then crack on with the wiring.

Stay warm and safe, everyone. Don’t stress in the run up to a Christmas. It will all get done, and if it doesn’t, poo, who cares.

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Christmas Reading

I promised myself that I wouldn’t buy any books whilst in the extremely restricted living space of the caravan. I promised myself. But it seems that I have an addiction that is very difficult to shake.

Books have always been a big part of my life.

One of my earliest happy memories of Christmas is opening a gift-wrapped book. The smell of the paper and printing ink. The tactile pleasure of handling it, feeling the slight roughness of a linen book cover. The crisp turning of its new pages. The pleasure of curling up quietly on a sofa and losing myself deeply in its world. These are things I’ve always loved.

I couldn’t resist buying a few books to read over this festive break. It seemed sort of traditional.

Besides. Alan Garner has just published a new book at the age of 87. It would seem rude not to support such a momentous undertaking. I first read his novel The Owl Service at the age of eight, and I found it deeply disturbing, and very powerful. So much so that the memory of the book stayed with me, and when forty years later I came across a copy of it in a secondhand book store, I had to buy it to read again as an adult. It was still a strongly evocative, disturbing book.

His new book, Treacle Walker, is apparently based on the legends around Alderney Edge in Cheshire, where the author still lives.

I shall wrap it in festive paper and gift it to myself for Christmas. I shall find some quiet moments to absorb it.

It’s over fifty years now since I first read his work and I feel that Mr Garner and I are overdue a revisit.

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Christmas thoughts

It’s beginning to look as if we have another uncertain Christmas on our hands with the latest Covid variant running amok globally. I was hoping that this year would be different, but I guess we need to realise that this may be the new normal. Husband and I have our booster shots booked in for next week, and it feels like it’s not a moment too soon.

We may have one of the stepsons with us for Christmas, we may not. His travel plans are a bit up in the air just like everything else in the world at the moment. I’ve ordered supplies as if we have him here, happily eating us out of house and home. Well, caravan and home really.

Last year we cooked a piece of venison in the slow cooker for Christmas lunch. This year we have a piece of local highland beef, and with a year of kitchen juggling experience under my belt, moving things in and out of my tiny caravan oven, I’m hopeful that there will be roast potatoes too.

I only really start to feel as if Christmas is a reality when I see the lights start to go up in the village cottages and I’ve written and posted my Christmas cards. Christmas has always been such a big thing in my life. I’m getting used to a second year of no table, no big gathering, and life in a wee space where the normal arrangements can’t be made. We will definitely be in the house for next Christmas.

However different and sparse Christmas arrangements might be this year, I am grateful above all that we are all well. Health and happiness are so much more important than any of the other trappings that we associate with this time of the year. I will gather berries and foliage to decorate the caravan, put up some fairy lights, plan trifles and mince pies to take to friends, but mostly just savour the time that we have together.

Wishing you all a stress-free and happy run-up to the holiday period. Remember, it’s about the people that you love, not whether you’ve managed to bag the last turkey in the shop.

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Snowy days and roast hogget

Storm Arwen swept in over the last few days bringing a significant drop in temperature, and with it, snow.

It was difficult to see the mountains of Knoydart in the flurries of snow and sleet sweeping down the sound, but once it had cleared we were treated to a scene of absolute beauty.

The low winter sun lit up the slopes of the mountains and the skies were blue and crisp. Somehow the air always seems cleaner and colours more vibrant after a storm.

We were not as badly affected by the storm as the East coast and other parts of the UK, surprisingly. The caravan rocked alarmingly in the wind and the hail and sleet were relentless for about 24 hours, but we didn’t lose power or water, so we figured we’d got off lightly compared to some.

The morning was so stunning that we decided to get out to enjoy it.

We popped down to our local pub at lunchtime and warmed ourselves by their open wood fire. They had local hogget (lamb) on as a Sunday roast , and one warming plateful later, with a pint of Skye Ale to wash it down, we drove back to the croft replete and content.

There is always blue sky after a storm.