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Well, we';ve had a few flakes, but it is so windy they aren't going to stay still, in fact, I think we are just recycling the same few flakes. But it is VERY cold on the fingers, so the greenhouse, which sheds panes of glass every time the wind blows, is just going to have to stay draughty for another day or two. If we put many more sheets of plywood in instead of glass I'll have to start calling it a shed anyway. I'm not brave enough to risk unaccompanied panes of glass on the ferry so they will have to wait until we go south for our spring fix.

It's two years since we got broadband. I remember IB was just beginning to get annoying because there were more pictures on the blogs and it was getting very slow. Then last night the d**n machine wouldn't connect at all. I was starting to get cross; I need my daily fix in the winter. How can one become so dependent on something so quickly? We tried the Royal Navy solution (sorry mjc, it is an ad on TV) and unplugged the router, plugged it back in and bingo, a working internet again. And somehow I didn't need it anymore. Later this year will be the tenth anniversary of us buying our first computer, and drastically rearranging the living room to fit it in.
Once upon a time I studied computing, but then it was all about writing programs in Algol. I preferred to use the computer as a tool and moved sideways into statistics, and learnt far more of the Greek alphabet than is useful for crosswords. I often wonder how many computer students are responsible for modern computers, rather than the electronics and physics students. At least the designers had a hand in the process.





That monitor definitely hasn't stood the test of time as well as I have. But if computers are so clever now, how come I still have to go out to work, instead of work coming to me. I just don't understand the 'work at home' revolution. What exactly can one do at home that is work?

OK We had snow too, for half a day, but now it's gone. Still windy though. I've got two bits of wood propped up against the greenhouse, trying to save some more glass. Seems to be working so far. The wind might drop enough tomorrow to think about handling broken glass. However there was a bit of blue sky this afternoon so I grabbed a couple more layers and escaped with the dogs. Seems to have been a while since I got to spend time outside.

We went to Feall (pronounced foil) because I wanted to see the waves. Four years ago the dead fin whale was lying here; I think it would have been washed back out to sea today, the tide was so high. The sand was very soft so it was more of a trudge than a walk and the wind was blowing straight at me, so I turned and stopped and watched the waves frequently. At least the wind would be behind me on the way back. The beach is very steep at the moment so I was looking down at the water, and then out to sea at the waves, watching them curl up, then break into surf, and then curl back up again for a final assault on the beach. And then there was the biggy, the seventh wave, roaring much further up hill than it had any right to do, and filling my wellingtons. Cue some mutterings that only might have sounded like 'bother'. The dogs didn't care; they'd already been swimming, and raced up the dunes to get covered in sand, and then rushed back to get wet again. What is it with dogs? (don't answer FC) Anyhow, the sun was out and I'd warmed up my wet socks and it was probably time to turn round, the only thing the dogs like more than a trip to the beach is their tea on time! So back we went.
Away on the horizon is one of the new buildings on Coll (Castle Carswell) and the very bright green roof is nearly all covered up with slates. We have the most wonderful slater who comes to Coll. He is the strong silent type who works through the absolute worst weather (in fact, when he is here we nearly always have the worst weather) and it looks like he is nearly finished. Then it got very dark and something cold and sharp and pointy began to hit the backs of my legs. A hailstorm! The sun came back out and there was a fabulous rainbow and half a secondary, with all the colours in reverse, and these sharp bullets went on hitting my legs. Just as well the wind was behind me, although it might have dictated the direction I faced. So when I got back to the car I had soaking wet feet and calves and all the back of me, but it was so good to have got out.

Hens and gardens are not a good mix, in fact, having one gives a cast-iron, 100% absolute excuse not to have the other. So you can imagine how keen I am to get the tunnels covered and get back to gardening. But at least I have the greenhouse. You know, the one where the glass keeps falling out and I replace it with sheets of sterling board (which just doesn't work like glass). The one with panes of glass propped up with some lengths of wood. We fixed those panes last time it wasn't windy. We used 4 kilograms of brown putty (which had only slightly gone off), because the sticky silicon we used originally didn't stick. I refused to use putty because it doesn't work. I don't mean it doesn't work for glaziers, but for beginners it is very temperamental. It won't stick to the frame, especially at the top where you want it to completely defy the law of gravity. It smears itself all over the glass, you spend ages smoothing it down to give a waterproof chamfer between the glass and the frame, and then the whole lot unrolls. Not this putty. It must have skived off the lessons given to all putty in 'How to annoy DIYers'. It went on beautifully and we had exactly the right amount, AND we had to discard some very hard bits that refused to soften. So job done. Exit some satisfied 'professional' glaziers.
The next day the wind blew. I went to check. The small sheet of perspex had fallen out. Putty doesn't stick perspex. Oh well. It was too windy (cold (I wimped out)) so I left it for a few days. Today was lovely. I potted up lots of garlic and got the silicon gun. Putting one very small sheet of perspex in was only going to take five minutes. And it did. Scrape off the still-soft putty, dry the perspex, squeeze the sticky silicon gun, get covered in sticky stuff, stick perspex in and finished. Even the sticky gun didn't run out. I glanced down at the rest of the frame to admire the smooth putty chamfers and..... Gone!
Pecked away!
How high can a hen jump? I tell you, half way up the second sheet of glass! Actually the cocks reach higher than the hens, which is a difference that makes no difference.
Putty of course, is made from linseed oil. Linseeds are one of those super foods high in omega 3s and stuff. So I suppose putty is more edible than I thought. (Brackets: linoleum is also made from linseeds. And it is very important to never put linseed oil on to furniture with a cloth and leave it screwed up as it will spontaneously combust. Don't I know some rubbish?) So now, at some point in the future when we have bought glass and kilograms of putty, I am going to have to put up a hen-proof fence around the greenhouse, when half the point of the greenhouse is that it protects the plants from the hens!

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.