Doon on the Breck

Harry is too young to be left out all night; after all his age can still be counted in weeks.  Alas last night I just couldn’t get him to come in.  So I slept uneasily whilst he probably had his head down in the shed.  I arose at 3.50 a.m. to call him.  I stood transfixed listening to the seals calling from the Barrel of Butter.  At least Harry came firing in.

This morning there being was a sparkling sea, absolutely flat calm and from the porch I could easily hear curlew, fulmar, Great Northern Diver and even the high pitched squeal of tysties.  After my kippers I walked up to the Gyre Plantings to see if the blackberries are ready for the picking.  Plenty of berries but they are all too green yet.

 Luke came down to turn the grass which was cut on Thursday - it will be baled tomorrow if the weather holds good.  Whilst typing this I am listening to ‘Quiet Kenny’ by Kenny Dorham which was recorded on a rainy chilly night in New Jersey in 1959; not that I can remember it at the time.

Even stranger is that I can’t get Michael Marra’s ‘Scottish National Anthem’ out of my mind.  For the uninitiated here is my memory of the lyrics:

Hermless, hermless
There's niver nae bother fae me
Ah ging tae the library an' tak' oot a book
Then Ah come hame for ma tea

Wi' ma hand on ma heart and ma heart in ma mooth
With airms that could reach o'er the sea
Ma feet might be big but the insects are safe
They'll never get stood on by me

Ah save a' the coupons that comes wi' the soup
And when Ah have saved fifty-three
Ah put three in the drawer and send fifty away
And something gets posted tae me

Hermless, hermless,
There's never nae bother fae me
Naeb'd would notice if I wasnae there
And I didnae come hame for ma tea

Hermless, hermless
There's never nae bother frae me
I dae what I'm telt and I tidy my room
Then I come doon for ma tea

Hermless, hermless
There's never nae bother frae me
I jist hing aboot and inherit the earth
Then I come doon for ma tea