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Haven't moved yet. I will, but soon, not quite now. Part of me thinks IB is all about those who write and comment, and then I go down the pub and meet a load of folk who just read. I'm not sure how many of my personal readers will cross over, and anyway, at the moment I want to write, not wrestle with logic, and I'm already peeved because IB has not published my last blog, and I've lost this one when I went to play with some pics (I know, there is a 'save' button but I didn't use it) and I had some great lines in here which were really funny and now they are lost forever where-ever it is lost pixels hang out at.

So, to repeat myself, 2008 will be remembered as the Christmas of the cheese. There was a slight surplus of cheese over the festive period. At the moment there is still leftover cheese in our fridge. There is white Stilton (because he doesn't like blue cheese), Dolcelatta (because I do), brie (banished to the microwave because it is making the fridge smell, and for a long while we blamed the Stilton) and some more recent Cheddar (because we needed normal cheese for a change). Once upon a time there was the cheese I bought before Christmas to eat at the mother-in-law's, but we ate too much turkey and didn't finish the cheese and had to take it away. This was added to by the cheese our friends supplied while we were visiting them in the wood in Essex. Two lots of friends so two lots of cheese! They had friends who visited. They ate some cheese but also bought some, so every time we opened the cheese box(es) to consume some cheese when it was time to put it away there was more of it. Small squares with rind and sticky wrappers which were always too small to cover it, even though there was only half as much as there was when it was unwrapped!



In between eating cheese we felled a few trees. We had a new toy to try out this year. We have been playing in this wood in Essex for about fifteen years now, originally using chainsaws and muscle power. A gizmo and a VERY BIG chainsaw appeared and is used to mill the bigger logs into planks and two years ago a very old dumper truck appeared. This revolutionised the log moving and for two years we have been building a very impressive wall of four foot long logs along the ride near the gate. Various raids on this has supplied a lot of firewood to London and Coll and several places in between. Our earlier piles of logs were carried to small random heaps and in many cases were abandoned to the brambles, although this year was frosty enough for a car to rescue many of them. However the saw logs had to be converted where they fell, and although the dumper made this easier we dream of having a dedicated saw area. Three years ago a friend (no cheese) lent us a log arch and since then various plans have been drawn on envelopes and a defunct boat trailer has been measured several times. However, another friend (still no cheese) is moving his timber business to France, and thought it would be easier to build a new log arch there, so donated his old one to the good of the wood. And it is brilliant. Two of us (fortified by cheese) can move a nine foot long, two foot diameter beech log quite easily. The most difficult bit is getting the first chain under the log halfway along it, then connect it to the log arch frame, think heavy (think more cheese), jump/lean on the shaft and the log lifts up, another chain underneath and it can be pushed about by two people. A nice quiet job involving two people working as a team and doing something pretty impressive.

OK OK, I admit it, we towed it with the dumper, it was quicker (and noisier and smellier and men like their mechanical toys) but it did push quite easily on the frosty ground.



It is still a wonderful piece of kit, and because it needed new tyres, and because they came on new wheels, and because they were too wide there are two plywood spacers to stop the tyres rubbing on the frame. Wood is such wonderful stuff!

And on the last day I almost started the dumper. Two of us were getting quite frustrated at not being able to start it, so we were taking it in turns, one turns the handle, one moves the compression lever over, and at last, it fired. I was on the compression lever, timing is everything you know, and it was 50% my start.

Yup. Lucky lucky lucky. I was supposed to go away today (back to the other pub). I have been packing for some time. We got the call to say the boat was only coming once today (normally it calls here, goes on to Tiree, calls back here and then goes to Oban. This is especially important in the winter as we only get two boats in the working week and it gives a two hour slot for deliveries/workmen (we have Coll International as well now). One call makes loading the boat tricky logistically). Anyhow, today was going to be a one boat day.

We are there at nine. There is a lot of wind. The tide is high (Blondie). Actually the tide is very high, water is crashing over the pier where the pier ratings stand to catch the ropes from the boat. I wonder (very quietly to myself) how much I would want to be paid to do that today. A very few hardy souls are optimistically hoping the boat gets in. A few half-hopes it won't and the rest are just down to see the fun. The boat appears out of the murk a long way out and very slowly sails past the pier, it slowly turns round, creeping closer. The waves crash over the pier again and the boat zooms past the pier back to Oban with the wind behind it. And very wise too, some days are just too dangerous. We rush into the office to re-book for Saturday before Tiree finds out and fills the boat up first (passengers originally booked for Saturday get priority).

I have an unexpected free day. I ring the pub and explain, I feel guilty, it should be John's day off. The phone rings, it is the pier. There is a extra boat on Friday, would I like to transfer my booking. Yes please, thank you very much. The boat will be in at nine, I need to be there at 8-30. I smell a rat. The boat will go on to Tiree. And then Barra!! It gets to Oban at 8-40pm. Eleven hours 40 minutes on a Calmac ferry. Nothing to do but eat Calmac breakfast, Calmac lunch, Calmac supper and feel sea sick. I have never been to Barra, although sometimes I can see it on the horizon. If I am lucky I might have to drive off and back on again, I could stand on Barra soil. I could even order a curry as a change to all the Calmac food. I have decided. I am going to Barra. I am SOOO lucky.





Weather permitting.