Tag: self build

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Wintering

It snowed last night.

When we awoke it was to sleet and snow pounding the roof and windows of the caravan, and it had settled on the hills. The morning was very cold. It took all of our willpower to leave the warmth of our bed and stagger through to the kitchen to make hot coffee.

We ate breakfast watching the snow swirl around the caravan, and both decided it might not be a bad idea to head out to do our weekly food shop now in case it got any worse.

We already have food stocks of oatmeal, pasta, tinned goods and flour, even within the very limited storage capacity we have within the static. I think it’s just prudent to keep long-life food available in case roads become impassable or we got ill. You never know. And whilst the weather is doing this it just reinforces the stocking up instinct further.

Whilst husband is working in the house filling gaps between the SIP panels in our desire to have the house as close to passive house standards as possible, I’m doing most of the food preparation. It’s just what we can both best do to contribute to pushing this build forward at this point in time.

Food has become reduced to simple homemade soups, curries, stews and occasional bakes. Tonight, for example, I’m making a cottage pie. Yesterday was bean and vegetable soup. Nothing fancy, just home made food that fills us up and is filled with nourishing ingredients.

I’m also making Athol Brose this evening. A small, sweet, creamy whisky based treat that we’ll take a glass of before bed each night.

Absolutely essential preparation for wintering in my book. 😊

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Powered by Flapjacks

I have many half packets of nuts and dried fruits that travelled with us from London, and which I don’t really have space for in this little caravan kitchen.

Oatmeal, dried apricots, pecans.. So I made flapjacks.

I’m not going to pretend that these are healthy with the amount of butter and golden syrup that they contain, which is more than the oatmeal could ever compensate for!

But as a pick-me-up, elevenses, or snack when energy levels are getting a bit low, they hit the spot.

Powered by flapjacks.

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Eating our local deer

The news spread that the local village store had some estate venison for sale this week, so I hot-footed it over to see what was available.

I picked up a 500g pack of diced venison (no haunch of venison for us as we have no way of roasting it right now 😕) and decided to make a venison ragu for dinner in the slow cooker.

Deer are a problem here on the island. They no longer have any natural predators and as such their numbers are out of control. There is talk of reintroducing lynx to the Highlands after many hundreds of years of extinction through over hunting, but nothing has yet come of it because of farmers concerns for their sheep.

What there is in place is a selective culling programme across most estates, and when that happens Clan Venison appears in the local outlets.

It’s cheaper than Highland beef, totally free range and organic, almost fat-free and very tasty. And every deer we eat is one less to eat our baby trees when we plant them next year. What’s not to love?

I cooked the venison with red wine, red onions, chopped tomatoes, peppers, garlic, juniper berries and a sloosh of balsamic vinegar. Four hours in the slow cooker. I forgot to add the chestnut mushrooms that I’d bought.

Divine.

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Once around the slow cooker

Two chicken breasts, a pepper, and a non-working oven? No problem as long as you have store cupboard staples and a slow cooker.

Spicy chicken with tomato and peppers cooked in the slow cooker for four hours with basmati rice to the rescue for dinner.

Husband brought in the box with my kitchen spices today for unpacking.

As I unpacked I added in a generous scoop of dried chilli flakes, a tin of chopped tomatoes, smoked paprika, onion, far too much garlic to be sociable, smoked salt flakes and a little sugar.

Luckily he didn’t bring in the canned goods box or I might have been tempted to chuck in some tinned pineapple. Maybe that would have been a step too far.. 😏 A tin of borlotti or butter beans would however have been a worthy addition.

The slow cooker did the rest.

Served with a spoonful of Greek yoghurt as a balm to the heat, it was one of those ‘once around the cupboard’ dinners that went down well after a long day.

I can’t wait to source some local venison to make a venison stew soon. I’m sure that there is a bottle of port in the boxes somewhere found at the back of one of the London kitchen cupboards before we moved. I’m thinking beef bourgignon but with venison. And mashed potatoes.

We are eating out of bowls most of the time now, like four year olds. It’s just easier.

Just don’t ask me for chicken dippers.

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Deciding what’s essential

Moving into this caravan has taught me again how privileged I am and how I had no real idea about the minimum level of basics needed to be comfortable.

As I unpack each box and the tiny kitchen fills up I hold my head in my hands and ask myself why I thought I really needed that item over and over again.

For example, I packed four wooden chopping boards. Four. What on earth did I think I was going to be preparing? There isn’t enough worktop space to lay them out for use let alone enough space to stack them.

I have one drawer in the caravan kitchen which I’ve filled with all our knives, cutlery and utensils. It’s over full. I seem to have thought that several wooden spoons were essential. The list goes on.

Now, of course I can get more creative with ways of storing things, I know. I’d bought some macrami hanging baskets which I’ve hung to hold apples, vegetables that don’t need refrigeration and other bits. They don’t hold much weight so it’s light things only.

I’ve got hooks up for mugs and hanging storage for other things to keep them off the work surface. Walls, however flimsy, I’ve discovered, are my friend.

But the key thing here is less stuff rather than more ways to cram extra in. I will pare this back over the coming weeks to what I really use so that it’s more comfortable.

We’ve discovered that the oven doesn’t work, so my old slow cooker has already proved its weight in gold whilst my ever resourceful husband gets time to work out what’s wrong. I made a lamb and vegetable stew with dumplings in it a few days ago, and a rice pudding. It’s so comforting after a cold day of hard work to come into a caravan warm and fragrant with the smell of dinner cooking.

We still have no water. The pipes in the caravan had been cut when they were removed previously for transportation which we didn’t notice until we came to install them.

This meant that new pipes and connectors had to be ordered, which won’t arrive until next week. So no running water or usable toilet… We are filling containers from the one tap in the house. I won’t go into the mechanics of the toilet arrangements for my more delicate readers, but it’s led to many moments of hilarity and a more intimate knowledge of the croft than we had been expecting..

A camping portaloo should arrive any day now… 😊

PS. we do have a comfortable bed that we managed to crowbar into the tiny bedroom. It’s my bliss at the moment.

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Ancient Drovers Track

This is the ancient Drovers track that runs up the side of our croft, providing access to the common grazings on the hill behind us for the people of the village and their sheep.

It’s a path not much used these days except for occasional walkers, but once upon a time it was clearly well used judging by the width of it.

I love how the heather embankments enclose and protect it, creating a sunken lane in the landscape. The colours of purple, gold, russet and green in the low autumn sunlight are beautiful.

There is one lone tree (I will need to check what this is) bravely growing through the hedging, and standing proud despite the predominant winds with no company for shelter.

My eyes are usually drawn the other way, to the South, to our view of the Sound and the mountains beyond, but there is an equal if more understated beauty in the hills to the north of us.

Autumn in Skye is a truly stunning season.

Two weeks to go and the anticipation is almost painful.

All photos by kind permission of the wonderful Sara Louise Taylor @sara_louise_taylor on Instagram.

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Of slow cooked stews and power tools


We’re now in the final few weeks of the London house as the October winds blow. We sit listening to the rain and wind blustering through the branches of the crab apple trees that flank the house, commenting ruefully to each other that this is an early trial for the Skye weather.

We’re making lists of what will be packed for storage and what will be needed in the caravan for the duration of the build.

I’m anticipating a cold, wet Highland winter in the caravan and days of hard physical work, something unfamiliar to our soft urban bodies. Not to mention my still recovering replacement bionic knees.

We’re going to ache and I’m sure that exhaustion will hit pretty quickly. Husband will bear the brunt of this as there are things that he can do that I simply can’t, so one of my small contributions will be keeping us fed. Food will be important for both fuelling tired muscles and keeping morale going.


I’m packing my slow cooker so that I can make soups and stews first thing in the morning to come into at the end of the day without too much effort. It’s comforting to come home to the warmth and smell of a lamb hotpot permeating the caravan when you’re tired, cold and wet. We should be able to raise a spoon and some chunks of bread if we have energy for nothing else!


The kitchen in the caravan is also pretty small so I’m trying to condense down what to pack to the most essential items only. Kettle, oven dishes, plates, cutlery, a few good knives etc. I suspect that our food will be basic until we are in the house, and eaten off laps, but that’s fine by us.


Forget the wild fantasies of feasting off venison and salmon in the Highlands – this is going to be lots of simple cooking designed to fill us up and keep us warm. Soups, porridge, stews and dumplings. Hearty fare, albeit with fresh local produce.

Whilst I’m looking at supplies, husband is restocking essential tools for the build. He got rid of a lot of tools when he moved from the North of England, thinking that they’d no longer be needed in London (and having no storage space for them).

Our living room here is gradually filling up with reciprocating saws, drill bits, power screwdrivers, steel capped boots and work trousers.

I hug myself in anticipation. Not long now until we pack up the car with our ancient spaniel and start the long, slow drive up to the island.

It’s all becoming very real… 👍☺️

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It stops, and it starts again…

We’ve had a delay in progress on the build for the last few weeks because the roof light window flashings didn’t arrived as planned.

They’re coming from Poland, apparently, where our Fakro windows are manufactured, and they were delayed. As such, the slate laying had to stop, and from the looks of it nothing else could be done on site. The builder tried to start the exterior wall larch cladding to make up time but his man went sick and so progress stalled here too.

The good news is that we heard this week that the flashings have turned up at last, and work has restarted.

I shouldn’t be frustrated by this, but everything was moving so smoothly and so fast that even though I knew that there’d be bumps in the road, I’d sort of got used to the exceptional progress as normal. It wasn’t normal, of course. Problems and delays are the normal state of affairs in any project of this size.

We’re close enough to our actual site visit next month now for this to feel real and for excitement to build at the prospect of seeing our home in the flesh, so to speak. Pictures and videos are great, and have been so welcome, but this will be the first time that we will have been able to see and touch the house. I simply can’t wait.

Even the slightly daunting prospect of the flight to Inverness in these Covid-19 times isn’t enough to stop the anticipation building….

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Curbing instincts

Knowing that we’ll soon be moving into the static, which has a tiny kitchen with very little storage space, means that I’m having to curb my tendency to stash food for emergencies such as the next zombie invasion or pandemic.

The current Covid-19 situation has only reinforced what I recognise is deep-set behaviour to store for bad times.

Every time I see a 10kg sack of basmati rice or puy lentils on sale I have to physically restrain myself from buying them. The instinct to stock up is strong, but there’s no logic in more dried goods sitting in storage with the furniture for six months whilst we complete the build.

There simply isn’t anywhere to put them.

I grit my teeth and tell myself that there will be the chance to fully stack that pantry once it’s built and ready to take supplies. And not a moment sooner.

I think I’m on the spectrum somewhere (aren’t we all in some way, I guess?) but it gives me great satisfaction to list what the pantry will eventually hold. I haven’t confessed to husband yet, but I’ve got LISTS of proposed purchases.

I’ve been looking at labelling systems, storage jars and boxes, and what shelving we’ll need…😂

It maybe the smallest room in the house, but I’m planning to make every inch of the storage work, and I can’t wait to add homemade jams, pickles and cordials to the stash next summer to see us through those long, dark, wet Scottish winters.

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Slates

A dreich day, with constant drizzle. A friend on the island visited site to take pictures of more progress for us.

The slates are being laid.

Loving the texture of these.

The windows are also now in place.

Can’t help thinking how good this would look in black – not a look that we’d seriously considered previously.

The only challenge with a black or grey stain is that it needs maintenance every few years, and probably reapplication to keep looking good. Natural Siberian larch is left untreated and it greys naturally over the years, needing nothing further. The wood hardens in reaction to the atmosphere and weather and protects itself.

It will be ready for its larch cladding in a few weeks time and we’ll see how its weatherproof wooden coat looks “au naturele” then.