Listening to: Barbed Wire Love (Stiff Little Fingers)
Eating: pork sandwiches
Reading: The River Cottage Meat Book
Skiving: Burt Lancaster is on the telly.
Funny how 24 hours can change your mood completely. And funny how often it's a visit from Marcus that changes things. Yesterday morning I was burying a much-loved dog and resigning myself that my hopes of becoming a pig farmer were as forlorn as ever.
The four Saddlebacks seem to be stuck on their farm near Thurso for as long as the foot and mouth thing goes on and that looks like being a very long time.
I was stomping around the farm in a below-average mood yesterday evening when Marcus rumbled up the lane - well his tractor did the rumbling, but you know what I mean.
Understanding the accent in these parts is never easy at the best of the times (think a cross between Oslo and Newcastle with a bit of Aberdeen thrown in and you are somewhere close) and getting to grips with what Marcus is telling me is the single most difficult intellectual exercise of my life.
Once I had absorbed all the sounds and framed an appropriate response, I realised he was telling me that someone in the village had four piglets and might be persuaded to sell me some or all.
I trundled down to Pierowall this morning and was shown four cracking-looking piglets with their mother. They're not pure bred - the sow is Oxford Sandy and Black crossed with Tamworth, while the AI sperm came from a Duroc boar - but they are in great condition and big for their age.
Can I buy all four? I burbled excitedly. No, just the two I was told and they are £40 each - just the price I had in mind.
So it won't be the fab four, but the dymamic duo - the main thing being is that it's a start. It's bloody lovely when something goes right.