Happy and Handsome Farmers.

The happy farmer drove down to Port Charlotte to borrow a digger from the handsome farmer today. The handsome farmer had offered to drive it up, but has several cracked ribs and is somewhat ‘crippled’ following his participation in the beach rugby at the weekend. A structural engineer is coming along to the farm to inspect the foundations for the next building project; we are going through all of the red tape at the moment to secure a building warrant to allow the happy farmer to continue on his way with his building works. A digger was required to dig two large holes into the rocky ground for the inspection, and the handsome farmer very kindly let us borrow his digger at short notice.

The handsome farmer is a good friend of ours. He also does ‘farming’ things and ‘self catering’ things, but is also a special constable, was a lighthouse keeper, and now mans the wave power station, although the happy farmer has never quite made it down there, as whenever her has set out with the handsome farmer, they always stop for a 'wee sweetie' or two along the way, otherwise known as a dram to me and you, and usually end up having a crack somewhere else, never quite completing their journey to their destination.

The handsome farmer travelled all the way down to the Midlands to pipe me from my house to the church when I married the happy farmer. He stood in a rather hung-over state, pre wedding celebrations apparently, and played those bagpipes outside my front door in the Midlands, while I got ready. He played the pipes all the way in the wedding car, through the busy traffic, hanging out of the window, until we reached the church, where the happy farmer’s brother was piping in the guests. The pair of them piped me into the church. It meant a great deal to me that I had pipers from the family and community, who had made the long journey all the way to Walsall, to play for the happy farmer and me on our special day, bringing the island’s culture to the Midlands.

We went to watch the beach rugby at the weekend. What a day, the island is still basking in glorious sunshine and has been for days now. Saturday was no exception; luckily we managed to get a pitch on the green next to some friends who had arrived complete with picnic hamper bursting with goodies, chilled wine, strawberries, juice and crisps for the kids and so on. So we sat and watched as the teams wrestled their way across the sand, fighting over the rugby ball. There were three pitches, with several teams coming over from the mainland to participate. As our friend pointed out, it is the nearest you will get to a Spanish beach holiday on the island. The beach and surrounding green were packed, with spectators, children paddled and bathed in the sea, and were soon joined by the players, as after each match they ran, splashing into the sea, to submerge themselves in the cool waters. The pipe band was playing; the whisky and beer were flowing. Usually the island’s beaches are deserted, but today there was a real buzz.

I felt particularly cruel as I dragged the happy farmer away from the crowds, but I couldn’t take anymore of the heat, I was literally baking on the beach and needed to find shade, which I did as we headed for a bar supper with the children on our way home. I think the team from Melrose won, at least I hope they did anyway, or else I will get slated if I have given you the wrong result.

I hope it is hot and sunny with you too.

Until next time….