Triumphant or What?
Sleep deprivation seems to have dominated April caused firstly by the need for a bedside vigil for a Terrier "fixed" by the vet who required constant supervision to stop him licking his surgical wound. (the dog not the vet) Secondly, an elderly relative of Dearest Dottie who has taken to wandering the corridors of the Tower of Trollaigh by night, stark naked , pushing a simmer and muttering "shut up". Thirdly, Dearest Dottie herself and a pack of dogs have been running around outside in the early hours dressed in night attire and wellies (Dearest Dottie not the dogs); chasing marauding stags from her formal garden. The stags should be miles away in the hills by this time of year, but the extended winter weather without any new grass has kept them close to the Tower of Trollaigh. A shot or two has been suggested however stags are just skin and bone at this time of year and not good eating; so my suggestion that we allow them some time to fatten up on the burgeoning shoots and herbs in the garden before we shoot them, has not been well received.
We who are renewable energy generators have trembled through the calm, dry start to the year, falling way short of generation targets; resulting on a tight squeeze on energy use. Come to think of it, I should have squeezed a bit more and a certain chill may have forced the above mentioned elderly relative to have put some clothes on during their midnight rambles.
And then there is so much to more to worry about Koreans, Syrians, Iraqis, Afghans to say nothing of the incompetence of our own government ministers (one now dying his hair Bellesconi style, never trust this person). The Bedroom Tax is upon us, one of our churches is falling down and I even had a call from the "data controller" of our local Community Council pointing out that by identifying Dearest Dottie, a living person, in these scribbles, and publishing a view about her, I am contravening the Data Protection Act and could face imprisonment. Apparently it is absolutely OK to wait until they are dead, when one can say what one likes. Of course a criminal conviction now carries the added burden of a dodgy Detective Inspector and a seedy Public Prosecutor grandstanding to live TV after the trial about what a superb job they have done; ignoring the fact that their minions did all the work and took the stress; and let's face it most successful prosecutions nowadays could have been solved by Dixon of Dock Green.
As I am about to embrace the Tweetershpere and other social media, it is all change. And although church sermons normally send me to sleep I enjoyed a recent story from the pulpit in which a housewife pinned up a note in her kitchen "Prayer can change things". The next morning the note had disappeared and on questioning her husband he admitted to removing it. "Do you not like Prayer?" said she; "Prayer is fine I just don't like change" came the reply.
Yours Aye, Archie, The Baron Trollaigh.
We who are renewable energy generators have trembled through the calm, dry start to the year, falling way short of generation targets; resulting on a tight squeeze on energy use. Come to think of it, I should have squeezed a bit more and a certain chill may have forced the above mentioned elderly relative to have put some clothes on during their midnight rambles.
And then there is so much to more to worry about Koreans, Syrians, Iraqis, Afghans to say nothing of the incompetence of our own government ministers (one now dying his hair Bellesconi style, never trust this person). The Bedroom Tax is upon us, one of our churches is falling down and I even had a call from the "data controller" of our local Community Council pointing out that by identifying Dearest Dottie, a living person, in these scribbles, and publishing a view about her, I am contravening the Data Protection Act and could face imprisonment. Apparently it is absolutely OK to wait until they are dead, when one can say what one likes. Of course a criminal conviction now carries the added burden of a dodgy Detective Inspector and a seedy Public Prosecutor grandstanding to live TV after the trial about what a superb job they have done; ignoring the fact that their minions did all the work and took the stress; and let's face it most successful prosecutions nowadays could have been solved by Dixon of Dock Green.
As I am about to embrace the Tweetershpere and other social media, it is all change. And although church sermons normally send me to sleep I enjoyed a recent story from the pulpit in which a housewife pinned up a note in her kitchen "Prayer can change things". The next morning the note had disappeared and on questioning her husband he admitted to removing it. "Do you not like Prayer?" said she; "Prayer is fine I just don't like change" came the reply.
Yours Aye, Archie, The Baron Trollaigh.
posted by The Baron Trollaigh at
5:11 AM
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