From the Breakfast Table

The Current Mrs Creel departed at 08.45 for her piano lesson through in Kirkwall and I started my usual chores.  Quite a benign day so I then walked round to Houton.
 
With two milking coos in the spare bedroom, ten calfies in the master bedroom, a puckle o’ sheep in the living room (and bales of wrapped silage in the passage) farmer Sandy Sinclair in Sandwick is making a good attempt to work from home. 
 
Overheard in the Stromness Co-op:  Mrs Groat (talking in a hushed tone to Mrs Heddle) ‘Do you think a true Bolshevik will readily cast out from his mind ideas which he has believed for years?  Surely he has submerged for years his personality in the collective, and the party, to such an extent that he has broken away from his own opinions and convictions.  Indeed, was Piatakov ever truly trusted by Stalin after 1936?’
 
Mrs Heddle: ‘Shuush wife, can you no see the biceps on yon beuy by the till, I’d gie him a bash ony day.’
 
Leonard Strudwick (in the queue): ‘Thoo should tell me whit’s the metter. Is id aboot last night? Weel, thoo sees, a’m aafil sorry aboot id but thoo kin plaze theesel whar thoo go tae.  I wetted on thee till near fower o’clock, an thoo never cam’, an’ I grat mesel tae sleep'.
 
Leonard has asked for several other offences to be taken into consideration.