Sunday, 28 October 2007

Darkness descends

Listening to: Bolton v Villa
Weather: rain, wind, sunshine, rain, sunshine, hail, wind and finally sunshine
The time is: err. . . um
Pigs' tea: potatoes and barley

The Indian summer that October brought to Westray seems to be well and truly over with bands of wind and rain sweeping over the island.

Although it's sunny as I write this (so I'll keep it short), to say the weather is unsettled is to understate the case massively. Winter is on the way.

The return to GMT this morning makes little difference to me - hours and days seem somehow to have less significance here - It was getting light when I woke at about 6.45 and fully light when I meandered my way to the bathroom for a cold wash (hot water is off again).

Eric and Ernie didn't object any more than usual when I gave them their breakfast at a time that was, in real terms, 45 minutes late. The hens were just as reluctant to get out into their run, nobody was watching the clock, setting deadlines.

But I've had to pick up the pace a little, realising that it will be dark soon after 4.30 and the dogs still have to be walked, pigs' potatoes have to be cooked and I have to bag up and deliver some 10-year-old chicken manure to Mr D's place. I'd better get used to it; by the middle of December it gets light at 9.30 and dark again at 3pm.

Then it's time to hunker down, light a fire, hope for a decent film on telly, attack the reading pile, blog a bit, bake a cake, get on with tidying up the stone wall in the kitchen/dining room and wait for spring.

I feel hibernation coming on.


martin said...

That's not at all like the 'Good Life'.
But they were in Surbiton. Is it a shock to the system to be so cut off ?.

Anonymous said...

mmm hibernation...

I forgot the clocks went back today, so when I got up it was beginning to get dark already. WHAT? It's the start of my holiday! I've timetabled lie-ins in! I WILL do work. Not pig-related, however, unless pigs have a religion...


Arabella said...

Apart from chasing chickens, you make hibernation sound real good.

Malc said...


No, not like the Good Life at all, although it is a good life. For one thing it's a lot windier and for another, Felicity Kendal isn't here being all cute and gorgeous.


(that reminds me, must get on with sorting out the stable)
I've managed to get the pigs and hens to expect breakfast around 10.15 so there's a civilised start to the day. Not exactly a student lie-in, but I consider it a big achievement.


Real good? They've got you, haven't they?

Now that I read the post back, I see what you mean.

Arabella said...

Woops, they did, darn-it.

fiwa said...

Thanks for your comment on my blog. I've been reading yours for about a week now - found it through Curlews in the Goyt.

I'm enjoying reading about your corner of the world, but must admit I'm horrified that it starts getting dark there at 3pm in the winter. I thought we had it bad in Seattle when it starts getting dark at 4:30!

I, like the view said...

what's your favourite cake then? I am partial to a bit of bread and butter pudding myself in the winter. . .

(I know that's not cake, but it serves the same purpose!)

. . .and the pigs diet reminds me of my mother putting pearl barley in the stews she made when I was a nipper, to spin the meat out a little further and make more of a meal of it

Malc said...

Haven't had bread and butter pud in ages. Mrs Trainee Pig Farmer makes bread pudding which I've never come across outside Wolverhampton and the Black Country. It's similar only it goes into one big lump and has the consistency of lorry tyres. They cut it into squares and serve it with a good sprinkle of brown sugar on top. You can often get it in butcher's shops. . . this is the West Midlands, after all.

My favourite cake would be my mum's coffee and walnut, although my dad (a good Ulsterman) did terrific potato cakes when I was a kid.

I, like the view said...

my mother used to make coffee and walnut cake


and we learnt how to make cheese and potato cakes from Blue Peter, I think they were called "John's Cheese Flaps" - which now I come to look at is as a grown-up is a bit of a dubious name. . .