On two occasions recently the lamenting sound of a bag pipe floats over the dales and into the Glen. I am ecstatic! Transfixed! Quite overcome - I could weep. (Digby concurred, but I suspect his motives were different!) I never found that Piper!

And life goes on ....


A dinky little red postal van traverses hill and dale to deliver Her Majesty's Royal Mail. Nothing is too difficult! The driver opened our gate, drove right to the front door and smilingly, delivered a parcel! Thank you Postman Pat!
 
The dearest little birds have discovered the porridge oats we liberally scatter each morning. Blackbirds, wrens, thrushes, buntings, sparrows, and dear little robins. (The cottage has a bird book!) Ravens, hooded crows and seagulls circle the fields constantly. We hope to hear a cuckoo before we leave. And the rabbits happily share the feast!

We have consumed an enormous quantity of bacon while here - it is delicious! I could not resist a wee ceramic Scottish piggy in a charity shop. My souvenir of Skye! 

At Borrodale Croft, Sam has named two new calves after Digby and me. Now that is special .

Glendale Hall hosts a craft fair every Tuesday morning. We call in and we catch up with Moira, one of the participants in my Shibori workshop. Her stall is filled with wool, felt, threads and examples of Harris Tweed. From Lewis and elsewhere, she sources the loom end-bits, off-cuts and small remnants. They are rich, textured and so overtly 'tweedy'! Moira insists I take a packet of small tweed pieces. Russets, browns, creams and the odd blue. 

Delighted I race home filled with ideas and start to hand stitch. Oh dear! My arthritic hands won't follow my heart's desire! I need a sewing machine!

We dash back to the hall and locate an old, heavy and dusty machine. A Jones. Not heard of a Jones before! We coax, we oil, we cajole but Jones is determined not to run. He is returned to the cupboard in the hall.

I am so disappointed!

We decide to visit Skye Quilt Studio to view the delightful work of Jenny Lewis. Her range of quilting fabrics is diverse and beautiful. We talk textiles and I share my woes. Without blinking, Jenny offers me her small Toyota sewing machine for a few days. How kind! How special! How Skye!

By the time we get home, the wind is blowing, the cottage wailing and the sleeting rain is creeping up the window! And the Minch is about to get sunshine!

Forty eight hours of frenzied activity ensues!