Shear Darg

Back to work with me. Ish. I had emails to send, y’see - so I sat in bed writing them. Then out - Dug was out tidying up - all part of the service. He has some plan for our garden to be pictured somewhere impressive which will drum up more business. Which is a bit nuts as he’s full up for years as far as I can see.
Then off to help Jimmie unstep his mast. We were in the shelter of the middle pier - outside it was blowing the frequently mentioned hoolie.
A drive about and then back for the winter shearing. Wouldn’t do to become an old goat in more than word.
And the daughter popped in. I’m tasked. And finally, finally, finally, a meet in the usual place - only MrT and ProfT but excellent chats. I demonstrated the google translate viewer - unfortunately the back page of The Scotsman was still about Hibs winning. Translating it into German made it no more palatable. Or schmackhaft.