This is a Flashback Friday blog.

Fatsworth, originally Chatsworth (or Chattie), was very special.  We rescued him from the Cats’ Protection League many years ago.

Originally, he was apparently found a-wandering with a horrid collar indentation in a residential area of Lerwick where there was a good Fish shop.  He was about 6 months’ old when he came to us and we never put another collar on him again.  He loved talking (hence his name – Chattie) chips and I would bring him home any lunch-spares when we went to Lerwick.  Chips were better than fish.  That explained so much.

Fatsworth was a character.

He ruled the house and we loved him for it.  No one ever doubted this fact.

Next the world.  It seemed an obvious progression.

He was never horrible to the dogs, just told them how it would be.

And they believed him.

I mean, why wouldn’t you?

Fatsworth was as wide as he was tall.

For a cat that lived mainly on nature’s buffet trolley, he managed to pack it all in.

This was his preferred method of sleeping.

We used to say he was “Closed for Business”.

Wherever you went, you would always be accompanied by a singing Fatsworth.  He talked while he walked while he didn’t tread on the ground!  His talent.

We all miss him more than words.

He was a wonderful character and taken from us far too early.  There was nothing we could do.

So a Flashback Friday for Chattie.  He used to love a Christmas tree – he would sit in wait underneath and then go for the attack under the cloak of tree!  None were safe and none would pass.

He was a sod, but he was our sod.

(yes, I even put him my handbag to see if he could fit – and yes, of course he could!  Did he mind?  Nah!  It was just another receptacle for world domination.)

 

Happy Thanksgiving to all my American friends.  I hope you have a wonderful day with your friends and family and I am thankful that you are my friends and care about all of us at Thordale.

Here is Mr Twizzler, my “pet” turkey listening to the classical music on the radio.  He was a dude and used to follow me everywhere around the croft like a recalcitrant Dalek.

Notice how he “sings” along in key to the music but stops when the presenter or adverts talk. 

A dear boy. Much missed.  He was a good turkey.

This morning, I spent my day cleaning the house and I mean clean.  A wax-on, wax-off type of clean as we have visitors for the next few days.

(I hope they notice, just sayin’!)

And then in the afternoon, I pottered off to Turriefield leaving Daisy to walk the dogs and feed Albie.

I enjoy my work. It is voluntary and one of the highlights of my week.

I am she-who-weighs-and-bags.  I like to be accurate (800g is what I was aiming for).  I have a list with instructions.

I started with carrots

And then moved onto “tatties”.

We all work very hard and stay until the work is done.

I strongly believe that, even if you are a volunteer, it is a “three line whip” situation (ie, you turn up no matter what) and you give your time for as long as it is needed.  If  I say I will do something, I do it.  I never think I won’t turn up.  Folk are relying on me and to be honest, I love doing it, though I have a yearning to turn over the bags like they do in old-fashioned greengrocers!

  

I take pleasure in choosing the croft-grown vegetables and making sure the weights are correct – it is my obsession.

So, happy Thanksgiving everyone xx

At 09:00 sharp we all congregate for the morning chores.  The sun is coming up and being winter, it is always beautiful to watch.  I stop for a moment every sunny morning and feel lucky I live in Shetland.

Today Wu was about looking very disapproving.  He suffers from bitchy-resting-face most of the time but it is very unusual to see him out and about with us.  Usually by this time in the morning, he is asleep on someone’s bed.  But no, today, here he was with us looking cross.

After the feeds (Velia’s turmeric bomb and Albie’s brekkie), we found the little-bigger boys by the house.

They are a sweet comedy duo and carrots were obviously dished out because of this.

Tomorrow is less nice, weather-wise, so Daisy and I took the riding horses out.

First up were Klængur and Taktur.  Klængur belongs to my other daughter, Flossie, so I just ride him to keep him fit and to remind him of his manners.  He had a bit of an abberation this summer but is much nicer now.

Darling Taktur is having a good winter in his field across the hill.  He lives with Kappi and they are very settled there.

On the next ride, we took Haakon and Kappi.

Kappi is Daisy’s 2nd horse – her competition horse.

Haakon and Kappi are not the best of friends.  They like each other more than when they don’t live together.

So, they were pleased to see each other again.

Haakon sneaked in a cheeky nibble just to remind Kappi that he is still the boss!

A lovely riding day.

Every day, one of us (either Daisy or I) drives over to Sandness to see the little herd of Shetland ponies who live there.

Yesterday, it was a soggy cold Shetland winter afternoon.

I always bring four carrots with me.

They know this.

And now expect it!  According to Vitamin, it is The Law.

For me, having ponies far from home is always difficult. I want them all around the house but it is just not practical but I know they are fine living where they are.

I keep thinking I must move these ponies as they stand by the roadside fence waiting for the school children going past and I bet they beg treats off them too.  That part of the field is pretty churned up but the rest is fine, absolutely fine and when it is eaten down properly, the ponies will be moved to yet another grassy field.

Anwyay, everyone is rather on the chubby side.

Yes, Waffle, chubby.  I swear he is wider than he is taller.

Beautiful Lyra has become used to me not being Daisy now.  I think it might be the carrots.  She very graciously takes them from me.  Good for her!

And so I tickle and scratch them and tell them they are not forgotten or unloved. I am sure Daisy does the same.

On the way home, I saw the best icicle stalactites.

And Foula being enveloped in a wintry shower.

Flossie phoned last night and the conversation came around to “and how is Lambie?”

So this blog is for Flossie.

Lambie wants to be different.

We are having some fencing done – a bit fenced off to put a silage bale in so everyone can have a turn but not live there.

This makes the field “different”.

According to Lambie, now the field has to be avoided at all costs.

Every morning, I take a bucket of food and all the sheep follow me to their field to their buckets where I distribute their food.

Except for Lambie.  Now he can’t go in.  He lingers about and today Daisy left him with no breakfast.

Lambie was not happy, mostly because he had not got his own way.

The others were at the far end of their field and I shook the bucket at Lambie who reluctantly (if not sulkily) followed me into the field.

I gave him his brekkie and told him he was “speshul” (perhaps not in a good way).

Meanwhile, ‘Bert is doing brilliantly.  The weight and sparkle are returning.

Always my happy little Monkey.

‘Ster is fabulous, as ever.

And Lambie is being very silly.

Film-star face

They all stay in their field until late afternoon because I am cruel like that.

Once out, they come wandering down to the front door.

Except for Lambie who is still feeling special.

He did manage to come over and talk to the inmates.

This is “I don’t seem to be getting my own way” face.

My little Boyzenberries.

And this is Lambie’s most filthy look!

He really wants his own way.  It is a battle of wills at the moment.

For God’s sake – the ruddy fuss at staying in a field with green grass.  They’re sheep!