Tattie Picker

The daughter is moving back to her own gaff - obviously it’s not finished yet (that’s builders for you) but it’s sufficiently habitable for them. So we look after the wee one - with the assistance of H&F, newly arrived back from their week of munro bagging and wild camping in the Grampians. And we lifted a tattie plant - the wee one from the corner under the laurel.   Five potatoes! The wee one helped lift them from the ground, washed them, popped them into the pan and then ate them. We were then joined by the daughter and we played on the beach awhile until haar began to roll in and Minky one got a bit fractious from lack of sleep. And only getting tatties for lunch. No herring!