91热爆

Well, almost away. The content is away, the cover isn't. The content had to go, there wasn't room for any more, and I had a feeling it was going to keep on coming. This year's issue is up to a mammoth 108 pages, too big to be profitable. The cover is somewhere in hyperspace and seriously compromised by both the graphic designer and the editor (me) running away for a break before Coll hits the summer manicness. But if you want to read it you will have to by a paper copy, it won't be online for a couple of years.

I took a break from moving text boxes about and fiddling with photos (I am so good at that now, thanks to digi darkroom) to move some real objects about. Eight of us took part in a dry stone walling course. There is nothing dry about stone walling on Coll, except at lunch, when we gently dripped in The Island Cafe and ate beef and horseradish baguettes. It rained most of Saturday, very gently at first, but getting more persistent as the day went on, until we gave up at three. Sunday was fine and we cracked on with the single wall we were repairing up the school brae. We weren't doing all of it as Dave wanted to show us double walling, and there was a short length near the memorial which needed tidying up. Monday started dry, but by the time we got to the village the rain had set in. I hate and loathe waterproofs. As a kid I never wore a coat and I don't see any reason to change as an adult (in theory no-one is supposed to tell you what to do once you leave school and learn to manage parents). Waterproofs are wet and noisy and I don't have any. I had a thick wool jersey and a very old, very bright fleece on. And jeans. After an hour and a half the wall was finished, we had enough coping stones to do the top and it looked fabulous. Walls are funny things, they seem to look good at the start, a bit scruffy halfway up, and really smart when finished. Those of us in glasses couldn't really tell, we had got used to seeing the world through a blur. The instructor kept telling us he wouldn't work in that weather, he would do his paperwork instead. I reckon he would have very up-to-date books if he lived on Coll. My top half was really warm and dry, but my legs were soaking. The water was running down my jeans into my wellies (I love wellies) and I was walking about with straight legs because they wouldn't bend any more. Back home and into the shower, and even I was surprised by how dry my T-shirt was, absolutely bone dry. My socks were soaked though. So now I know what to do. Wear woolen trousers. Or stay inside and blog.
We must have done a reasonable job though, someone asked me if we had the contract to finish the single wall off.