Tatties and other Tuesday activities.

Our next door neighbour but one has this amazing farm. Note the wall art.

I have posted pictures on here before of his 'art' work. Dotted all around the place it is.

He rents the odd field and grows tatties (potatoes). At the farm you can buy a bag full, bit fresher than Tescos! Leave the money in an honesty box, so peaceful, no "Please put your goods in the bagging area."

You can also buy jars of his beetroot, pickled, and turnips. So if we do get snowed in, we wont starve.
Just to prove the Dawn Patroller does get up before it is light. He took this photograph this morning. The Eagle sits on top of a gate post of another neighbour.

This lighting up does annoy us a wee bit. Our closest neighbours have lights all around their house which come on at dusk and remain on till dawn. Fortunately you can still see the stars. Our own home has lights at every corner also, but we have them turned off. Only one light is switched on and that reacts to movement which comes in handy when you return home after dark.
The Whooper Swans were heading off to feed.

"Morning!"

And the second of our Friends of the Lighthouse Activity Mornings. This picture was actually taken last week. This week I was so busy, there were even more children than last week, that I never got the camera out.

I was in charge of paint stamping and stained glass windows.

Paint stamping was bits of foam on sticks, plastic lids with liquid paint on, sheet of paper and away you go.

The stained glass windows were printed off pictures of ghosts, black cats, skulls, pumpkins. These were placed under a sort of perspex, drawn round, coloured in with felt tip pens, remove the printed off paper, holes into the perspex and a thread put through the holes and hang it in your window. Seemple.

The activity I was most impressed with was at the other end of the tables. Get ordinary cooking salt, get a piece of coloured chalk or pastel crayon, rub like fury with the chalk into the salt and the salt then becomes coloured salt. Clear plastic small drink bottle, add the coloured salts, in layers, poke about with a knitting needle - well the result was amazing. Does anyone remember years ago buying such a thing? Often it would be a glass lighthouse with the layered colours.

Furthermore the scoops for the salts was made from the bottom of a plastic bottle and the funnel to put the salt into a bottle was created from the top of a plastic bottle upended into the main one. I tell you I wish I had known about all this when I ran a playgroup. The kids today loved all of it.

I returned home totally exhausted!

Tuesday has also been a day of strong winds, rain and hail.

The Dawn Patroller has been sorting out the radiators. There is just one which is not obeying instructions. Despite being hammered, which does sometimes work.....

It could be wacky Wednesday tomorrow.

Whoop!

Friends called us this morning to say they had Whooper Swans feeding in the field next to their house. They had been joined by some of the thousands of pink footed geese we have wintering with us.

The Dawn Patroller set off to take photographs.

Note the obligatory wind turbine.

Puzzle cat is not stalking a whooper swan. In fact I think he was just practising his moves.

As I am, most afternoons.

Down the garden, in the Summer House/Artist Studio/drinking den.

And finally, Minerva McGonagall, doing what she does best. Looking pretty.

Shopping.

I hate city shopping. The travel. The heat inside the shops, the pushing and shoving customers. The trail back round again in case you missed something.

So I am well pleased with the internet.

I get up, showered, dressed.

Zoom out to see the Whooper Swans passing over head.

And they do whoop, more a whup, but totally different to the call of the geese.

Although they do fly in skeins like the geese in a v shape. Though the ones above have gone off on a detour on their own.

This morning I booked a holiday cottage. I bought curtains for the dining room. Christmas present for a grandson. Went back outside to hear and watch the skeins of geese passing over. Off to feed.

Then bought two reclining chairs for the dining room so we can chill out and watch the wildlife. This morning deer wandered about the field at the back.

The Dawn Patroller returned with a sad picture.

We haven't yet found out where there is a badger sett. Sadly this is our only evidence that they are around.

And here is Richard with his greyhounds. Richard cares and trains for two greyhounds at a time. He gets to keep one. He doesn't know which one. He then places it in a kennels that trains them up for racing. And hopefully it is a winner. Well these both look fantastic. Fingers crossed Richard.

Greyhounds are really lovely dogs. But I don't think they mix well with cats......

Richard helped us remove our many feet high Leylandii and gave us our view at the rear.

An absolutely beautiful day we have had today. Warm, no wind, washing out on the line. House cleaned. Windows open - lots of fresh air.

Looking forward to all my internet purchases arriving this week.

Shopping without the blood, sweat and tears.

He's back...

The Dawn Patroller is back on the beat. Today's sunrise artistically portrayed through an electricity pylon.

He is now away before dawn, so he has now got arm bands that flash lights. He, hopefully, will not get mown down, but will probably scare the wild life.

This is Cairnbulg Castle.

Cairnbulg Castle is a z-plan castle situated in Cairnbulg, Aberdeenshire, Scotland. Originally known as Philorth Castle it was built in the early 14th century, destroyed in winter of 1308-1309 in the Wars of Independence, and re-built by the Fraser family in 1380. Subsequently, a courtyard and outbuildings were added to the main tower. It is now open to the public by appointment only. Lady Saltoun and Captain Alexander Ramsay of Mar, who was one of Queen Victoria's great grandchildren, lived there for a while but nowadays Katherine Nicholson eldest daughter to Lady Saltoun lives there with her husband Mark and three children Louise, Juliet and Alexander. Lady Saltouns children lived at Cairnbulg while children themselves. Her children were Katharine, Alice and Elizabeth. Alice married David Ramsey and they had four children Alexander, Victoria, George and Oliver Ramsey.

I think this is courtesy of Wikepedia. But I tend to download quite a lot in my excitement of discovery, so fingers crossed I have this right.

What gob smacks me is that THEY STILL LIVE THERE. Should we expect Ruth Watson any day now? Country House Rescue? Do they need it? Dare I make an appointment to view?

It is just up the road from us. You can see it from the old railway line, The Buchan and Formartine Way, as it is now known.

This morning I visited our local library at Cairnbulg.

"You've had this one out before."

I couldn't quite decide whether to respond, "I am a slow reader, " or, "Time you got a better selection then." so remained silent, and smiled.

I like a good crime novel. Scanning the shelves I noted there was not one Agatha Christie (we do have most of hers on our own shelves,) or P.D. James, (ditto). Perhaps they are all out.

I cleared the shelf of Digital Photography Books (3) for the Dawn Patroller. Selected an omnibus of Ngaio Marsh, two out of the three I don't have on our shelves and left.

Wonder how good the library is at the castle?

Fit Like?

This is Doric. Translated it is "What like." The question is, "How are you?"

Vowels are transformed in Doric. The word 'one' as in this one becomes 'ane'. "This ane is no guid."

After nine years of living here I am just about understanding the language.

"Fit are ye needing?"

What are you wanting?"

When I lived in Cornwall it didn't take me long to pick up the accent. And the odd word. But here, in the North East, I stick to listening and do not attempt to "spik it."

Ey gets put onto the end of many words. "Put in your cardy." Is followed by, "Now yer pin number." This after me frowning and wondering as I hadn't got a cardigan on, and if I had where was I to put it.

The language, as with so many 'foreign' languages has a lilt to it, it is tuneful. Unlike the English dialects. I am from Yorkshire and I can soon slip back into the broadness of the dialect. But it is a sharp one. Here, the words flow. Anyway enough of that.

This is Inverallochy, 3 miles up the road from where we live.

The posts are for drying washing and for drying, long ago, fishing nets.

Well established fishing communities were in place in the area by the early 16th century, but after an epidemic of cholera in the 1860s wiped out the "collections of huts next to which fishing boats were dragged out of reach of the tide", planned fishing settlements were recreated at Inverallochy and the twinned village Cairnbulg. As a result of this planning, within twenty years over 200 boats were based here, although in recent years this has dwindled back to almost none as larger, commercial operations became focused on the nearby ports of Fraserburgh and Peterhead.

I think this is a pleasure boat which has been scuttled!

But there is plenty lobster fishing all around the coast.

I really must find ane.

Maggies Hoosie.,

History Of Maggie's Hoosie

Fishing communities such as Inverallochy and Cairnbulg would have been heavily populated with fisher folk and their many boats. There would have been hundreds of boats in the harbour, actively being used around the coast. The fishermen, their wives and children would have lived in cottages like Maggie's. The local dialect is Doric and house is known locally as hoosie. The families would have lived and worked in the hoosie. Space would have been taken over by fishing equipment, nets, creels, baskets, etc as equally as normal living items.

Maggie's hoosie is a two bed roomed cottage - one room, which would have been used by the children, was also the kitchen and living area. There was a bed within a doored alcove which would be shut up during the day. The boys would probably have slept in the rafters on mattresses amongst the fishing gear. Maggie's parents would have slept in the But end of the hoosie, which also had a sectioned off bed. The beds mattresses were filled with chaff from the corn each year which the family would have got in exchange for fish. When Maggie's parents died Maggie moved into this end of the house and got the whole house to herself when all her brothers and sisters left home. Maggie remained unmarried and had no children. She was born in 1867 and died in 1950. She spent her life preparing and baiting fishing lines, curing, smoking, salting and drying the fish and selling the fish around the countryside. She would also barter fish for other goods and produce.

Most of the above is courtesy of the website 'AboutAberdeen.com.'

The house was 'rescued' by the local community who ensured it was presented as it had always been. Maggie never had electricity or an inside loo. It is run by volunteers so is only open June - September for a couple of days a week, so yet again, I missed viewing it.

We have all these gems all around.

Sadly our council has made cuts and short sightedly decisions have been made to close the Lighthouse Museum for the Winter, and possibly, Duff House, in Banff. Both places we needed to be able to send tourists who come 'out of season'. Scotland does not have a season. It is beautiful all year round.

I have mentioned the cafe at the Lighthouse Museum in this blog. The lady who has run it is looking elsewhere now, as she says, "You cant run a business that is only open 6 months."

That cafe was packed out every lunch time, with locals as well as tourists.

Will there still be a cafe next year?

Its true what they say that you never look at what is under your nose.

And councillors dont even look up, down, right or left.

Trepidacious Tuesday.

I know it is Wednesday. Its taken me a while to recover from yesterday.

The Friends of the Lighthouse Museum were mustered at 9.30 a.m. to receive final instructions before the doors opened at 10 for our activity morning.

There were hordes of children. All were supposed to be accompanied by an adult, but one woman brought seven children!

Skeletons made from packing chips. Apparently they are made from starch, so all you have to do is dampen them and they stick together. Amazing.

Ghosts made from bin liners and carrier bags. Health and Safety would have thrown their hands up in horror. Plastic bags and kids. Not one tried to put them on over their heads.

Finger painting without the mess. Paint poured into sandwich sealable bags. Then squish away. Using a cotton bud draw in it. (cotton buds ye gods, glad there was no-one from Social Services.) Not one child poked one up their noses.

Spider made from the packing chips.

Just look at the concentration. Elsie to the right is making a streamer of ghosts. Elsie on the left is drawing a spider.

This was my corner. Not sure what you call it. But you fold paper, draw round the shape of a ghost, cut it out being careful where not to cut and you end up with a string of ghosts. We kept getting twins, till I got the hang of it!

In my past I have spent years caring for children. When my children were tiny I became a child minder. As they grew I set up a playgroup in the village. At the age of 40 I went back to education and retrained and became a Nursery Nurse. Adding that to my earlier legal qualification I became an Inspector of Childrens' Day Care. And finally I worked with children who were behaviourally challenged.

We moved up here and set up our b&b - no children.

Yesterday I realised I had no reason to be trepidacious, thinking I was now too rusty. Because kids remain the same delightful sponges of experiences and attention.

We have another session next Tuesday. And I am quite looking forward to it.