#HowtoRestoreACastle: Beware Your First #MidgeEncounter. Ours was truly awful!

If you do not live in a temperate, coastal location with high rainfall, you may not know about the midge. You see, the midge is a wee blood-thirsty beastie which rises in late May and spends the next three to four months feeding on any piece of exposed flesh available to it.*

*Please note: Midges occasionally drive their victims to using bad language, and this post is no exception.

The midge bite is small but persistent, itching out of all proportion to the size of the mandibles which cause it. Or at least this is the case for the first three years of exposure – which is no use to visitors of course, but explains why West Coasters born-and-bred barely bat an eyelid under the onslaught of these multitudinous airborne pests. Because, while the bites are an incessant irritant after the fact, the initial onslaught can be truly excruciating.

Imagine an early summer evening, when the light is limpid and louche, falling toward a gentle, welcoming darkness – soft in the virtually tactile way that only the ocean ward coast of Scotland can produce.

Imagine that you are coming home to your newly finished, glorified garden shed after a weekend away with friends. It’s just the two of you, content to come home after a long journey full of conversation, insight and laughter.

You turn your battered soft top Vitara into the drive and allow gravity to take you down to the bridge. You want to keep the car’s progress slow because the unfinished drive rocks the short-wheelbase of the four-by-four such that your already sore backs will be further jarred (the Vitara was never a comfortable ride), and you note as you cross the bridge that the castle is looking particularly pretty, the tops of the chimneys are caught in the last light of the setting sun, and the foot of the ruin seems to accentuate this by being sunk in a deeper, darker shadow than you’d expect. Both of you glance at the stand of tall trees across the ravine from the castle to see if they account for the visual contrast, but nothing unusual strikes you.

The slight rise to the last corner wakes the bassets who immediately become animated with home fever. You glance at one another and smile, anticipating much low-slung and hilarious scooting around by the doe-eyed duo as they reacquaint their patch with them. The drive levels out, and you slip quietly down the avenue of, on one side, overgrown Leylandii and on the other five gargantuan exotics – led by what has come to be known as the ‘Harry Potter’ tree – although I am sure it looks nothing like the Whomping Willow. It’s nearly fully dark under the trees and you put on the headlights. They meet a thick veil of insects which move in mildly hypnotic wave delineating the full beam of the lights to their utmost extent 200 yards away to the foot of the castle. You glance at one another not quite understanding (a) how such insect-life could have arisen in the 72 hours you have been away and (b) amazement at the fecundity of nature even in these hills where the ground is notoriously poor, water-logged and inimical to anything other than pine, rhododendron and rashes.

Imagine that despite your wonder at this sudden irruption of natural phenomena into your life at Dunans, you allow your car to coast at approximately 2 metres per second down the drive and into the gravelled embrasure on which the red shed stands. The quality of the light improves and you see that the entire foliage delimited quadrangle is thick with a floating mass of insect-life fluctuating to an altitude of about 8 feet. It is at this stage, when you slow the car to the point that it will roll at, maybe, half-a-metre a second to its place before the shed, that two things become apparent. First, the canopy of the soft-topped car, which covers boot, rear seat and ceiling above really isn’t airtight, and second that driving so slowly means that this wondrous, slowly and softly dynamic layer of insect-life is in fact able to find admission into our coolly comfortable capsule of car air.

The time between the slowing and the screaming was perhaps all of 5 seconds.

When the red mist of midge rage descends rational thought becomes absolutely impossible.

The bastards bite.

The bastards get into your ears.

Into your nose.

Up your nose.

Into your eyes.

The creases at the corners of your eyes.

You scream. You run. You swear. You slam doors.

You open doors to let the dogs in.

You remember your baggage. You remember the shopping. The milk which needs the fridge.

You swear. Find a balaclava. Run out to the car. Get the shopping bags.

The milk bag splits. The cartons spill over the drive.

You swear. You cry.

You pray to God that the Balaclava is working. It isn’t. You throw it off.

You scrabble for the milk.

You weep.

You run in.

Throw milk at your wife.

Return outside for the bags.

You are hollering like Rambo. And choking on midges.

And still running.

Doors slam more.

There’s the tinkling of glass.

You run in. Slam the door.

Drop the bags.

Look at your wife who is scrabbling at one of the windows.

The windows.

They are covered in midges.

Billions of them.

We can’t see out.

And some of them, some of these bastards are on the bastarding inside.

An hour later we find ourselves sitting in the dark, in close proximity to two floor standing fans and one desktop fan in the centre of the red shed. We are trying really, really hard not to scratch ourselves. I am trying not to weep. My lovely wife is holding her head her hands, her jaw set. I can see she is calculating our next move. I cannot hold my head because my hands are covered in a mixture of silicone sealant and midges. I have a cut across one of my hands where the scissors slipped as I cut organza fabric, and at my feet are several thousand unused staples, an industrial staple gun and all the plasters we own. We know we have to venture into the bedroom to fight the midge invasion, and we also know that because of the variable level of the foundations, there is a big (bastarding) gap between wall and window bottom in that room. We look at one another and ask simultaneously, “What the hell have we done?”

That first year, in the hut with single-glazed windows of approximate fit, without airlock (AKA porch) for the shaking out of insect-life from hair, clothes and dog, without any through-breeze onsite of any kind, the midges were sanity-threatening awful. If I have subsequently called the castle a glorified mouse-breeding box, then the rash-filled paddock next to the red shed, with its sundry hollows, its deeply scored quad bike tracks, the miscellaneous divots and other depressions, all causing the retention of water to the point walking in it required waders, was similarly termed the midge-breeding box. We identified this area as the main problem and that was where we focussed our attention, to begin with.

To wage a successful war against the midge one needs to remember two things: first, this is a long-term campaign and second, there are no short-term solutions. You’ll also need to remember two further things: first, as alluded to in our very first swarming encounter, midges cannot withstanding a breeze of more than one point five metres per second, they are literally blown away, and second, they are crepuscular.

You can walk a swarm off – they literally cannot keep up. If you spot several Scots in a field having an agricultural chat, they’ll not be leaning on a five-bar gate (mostly because three of the five are rotten and the top is so patched with scraps of kindling that its actually quite uncomfortable to lean against) they’ll be walking in an ever-increasing spiral. Obviously, you’ll not want a decreasing spiral because the Pygmy flies will then end of concentrating in the correct space. Also, these voluble West Coast farmers, because, believe me, they can be very voluble, will avoid their livestock. Livestock generally have their own domestic swarm, a colony of midges, who for the summer describe a cloud or halo around their chosen beast.

Now concerning the crepuscular element of the equation (while ensuring we reference the Fire Sermon as the only reason I had any notion as to what this poly-syllabic term meant before the advent of midges into my life) the reasons midges are dusk and dawn-favouring are two-fold, first, the lack of sun. They, like moles, mice and marmots do not like direct sunlight. Well, mice might, but they prefer cover from marauding predators than full sunlit exposure. Not having researched the subject, I am not sure why midges don’t like sunlight, but (vast) experience shows this to be the case. Second, at dusk and dawn, any air movement generally falls away. There may of course be a third reason. Midges feed on blood. Any blood. They are not fussy. Human, deer, coo, sheep, dog, cat. At dawn and dusk these creatures are not wont to rush about madly, they slow, they prepare for the onset of night or begin the process of waking. The midge prey are therefore not moving at more than 1.5 metres per second, and therefore are available.

How is it you may ask that such tiny creatures can find their prey with such alacrity? Midges are attracted initially to the carbon dioxide their prey emits, then by movement, colour and odour. Finally, once a midge finds prey it emits a pheromone which attracts other midges.

It may be the pheromone which finally persuaded us that midge magnets weren’t for us. Either that, or the thought of using a can of gas every couple of months to produce a constant stream of carbon dioxide to clear a quarter acre of ground. While we awaited the effect of the changes we began soon after that tortured evening of the soul, we invested in a midge magnet. Now, quite apart from my inability to

(a) remember to check the gas canister on a regular basis

(b) empty the nets of midges as they neared full

(c ) light the magnet (once I’d managed to remember to check the canister, see that it’d been empty for some time – given the deliquescence of midges in midge-net – get to Strachur to replace the canister, order a canister because I was the only person using that particular type, forget to remember to return the following week once the gas co. had delivered said preferred type, remember a further week later to get the last canister of the preferred type given that four other households “ …. were giving these midge magnet thingies a try”).

No, midge magnets weren’t the solution, not at Dunans, not with our infestation, not with my record of replenishment and maintenance. There is a far flung corner of a shed where several hundred-pounds-worth of kit moulders paying tribute to our commitment to rid ourselves of midges and also, to our eventual success.

Note to those who visit midge-infested areas only infrequently: Do not – I repeat – do not sit around a midge magnet. It’s a magnet. Midges, seeking the carbon dioxide exhaled by animals are attracted to it – as if its a …magnet. By sitting there you’re creating a HUGE target for midges, even those outside the quarter acre of midge-free atmosphere. It’ll not be pretty. You’ll spill your beer, knock the prosecco for six, throw down your burgers in panic, trample small children – all the time swearing, “Bloody-bastarding-thing doesn’t bastarding work. You said they worked! Only reason I agreed to come here. Right, I have had enough Mildred, WE ARE LEAVING!” You will then jump into your seven year-Old Volvo and never return, even to retrieve the youngest’s purple unicorn pillow called Tilly, which a week later a family wanting respite from a midge infested patch of grounds near a castle not 20 miles away, finds in the porch, hanging rather forlornly on a coat-hook.

Over three or four years following, we reduced the incidence of midge deluges markedly, such that now, it is only of passing interest when we have a bad day. My paltry efforts, along with mighty shifts by folk like VBF, Chris, Stuart, Min and Tino, have led to policies in which it is possible to picnic, or to barbecue, in comparative comfort with only an occasional surfeit of airborne bitery. We do still dress our open windows in organza, practice a lights-out policy during late-May, June and July, as well as utilise floor and desk-mounted fans day and night.

Two #Landscapes and a #Cityscapes in #Scotland at www.selwyn-and-ink.com

Over the last year or two, I’ve been working on a series of images from the Scottish landscape – here are the first three.

The Green Surge: Open Meeting in Dunoon on 15th Dec.

 

Looking forward to this and also had a lot of fun designing the poster too –poster-open-meeting-dec-A4

Graphical illustrations of the underlying issues behind voting in the #IndyRef: Life expectancy and Income @R_J_Parker @SuseJohnston

These graphs relate two metrics, life expectancy and income, with how people voted. In all four cases of the councils which voted Yes have the lowest levels of both. If anything, this proves to me that the Yes vote was effectively saying, “the system is broken – we need to change the system”.

Disposable income against the vote in the Independence Referendum. Source: @SuseJohnston
Disposable income against the % No vote in the Independence Referendum. Source: @SuseJohnston

Life Expectancy against the vote in the Independence referendum. Source: @R_J_Parker
Life Expectancy against the % Yes vote in the Independence referendum. Source: @R_J_Parker

The thinking behind the graphs is available on twitter, at the accounts shown.

Not much more needs to be said, I think.

UPDATE: Actually, this from Mike Russell which is published in the Sunday Times today.

#indyref: I’ve voted

Just to record that today I voted for an independent Scotland. But whatever happens, whichever way the vote goes, it feels fantastic to be part of a free and fair vote on the future of our country – if only this was the case all over the world.

photo

#indyref: 36 questions which helped me decide which way to vote

If you are havering over which way to vote, or if you’ve decided but want to reassure yourself you are voting the right way, I’ve come up with 36 questions which have helped me make my decision. They’re not in any particular order, but they do group around topics. They helped me make my choice, I hope they’ll be useful for you too.

  1. Would an Independent Scotland require a nuclear deterrent? How long will the present nuclear weapons remain on Scottish soil in the case of a ‘Yes’ vote?
  2. Does the UK really need a nuclear deterrent and does it strengthen our ability to respond to crises around the world or weaken it?
  3. Would a Scottish armed forces in an Independent Scotland increase or diminish Scotland’s security? Or its susceptibility to terrorist attack?
  4. In the event of a ‘Yes’ vote, will the rest of the Union really withhold currency union as they have promised, or will currency be one of the major negotiating points?
  5. And if it is a negotiating point whose interest is it in to cast doubt on a currency union’s viability before the vote?
  6. Will border controls really be imposed in the event of a Yes vote? Or will the border be left to its own devices rather like the present border between the Irelands?
  7. Ignoring the historical context, how much should Oil reserves play a part in my calculations? And if they should how critical are they given such factors as climate change and the potential withdrawal of nuclear weapons from Scottish soil (see below).
  8. If nuclear weapons were withdrawn from Scottish soil, would the restrictions on Oil and Gas exploration on the West Coast remain in force? Or would these reserves come into play?
  9. 97% of the world’s scientists agree that Climate Change is happening, and that this is due to human activity. Which of our potential governments is more likely to react well to this and provide for significant investment in renewable energy which is relevant to our communities and our environment?
  10. Are pensions going to be affected by a change in Scotland’s status when, for example, pensions are drawn by UK ex-pats in places like Spain? And in any case, is this a factor when my generation and those younger than me can’t really afford a pension at present?
  11. What will happen to income tax or VAT if there is a ‘Yes’ vote? Is it likely that these taxes will remain broadly the same until the populace decide, via a general election, to change things?
  12. In the event of a ‘Yes’ vote will the SNP remain in power for the foreseeable future or will we have democratic and fair elections representing the decisions of the people who live in Scotland? Will it be possible that new political parties emerge?
  13. In which case is it more likely that universal health care will remain in place through the NHS?
  14. In which case is it more likely that free universal education will remain in place?
  15. While, for example, education and health are devolved matters at the moment, how likely is it that in the case of a ‘No’ vote the UK government will start to claw back powers from the Scottish government given voter sentiment in England?
  16. Is a vote for Independence a vote for Nationalism or a more direct form of Democracy? And in either case, do you trust the Scottish people to make the right decisions looking forward?
  17. Is the quality of political debate in Scotland robust enough to ensure that decisions made are free from the self-interest of the decision-makers?
  18. How many times in the last 50 years has the vote of the Scottish people actually altered the outome of a general election in the UK? And does this really matter?
  19. Will the remaining UK be more or less likely to elect Tory governments if Scotland goes its own way?
  20. If Scotland gains independence, will Wales and Northern Ireland also wish to remove themselves from the Union?
  21. Will Berwick-upon-Tweed migrate to an Independent Scotland? Is that a good thing? Will other English regions ‘migrate north’?
  22. Does an independent Scotland change residents’ identity? Will they remain Scottish, English, Welsh and/or Irish? Can they still call themselves British, and hold allegiance to the British Isles?
  23. Will sectarianism be more prevalent in an Independent Scotland? Or will Scotland be a more equitable country, intolerant of all types of discrimination?
  24. Is a constitution written in consultation with the general populace a worthwhile endeavour and provide a sound basis for Scotland’s future?
  25. Is remaining in the EU a reason to vote for the Union?
  26. Will Scotland be more or less likely to be part of the EU in ten years time as part of the UK or as an independent state?
  27. How will a ‘Yes’ vote affect my livelihood?
  28. Is a ‘Yes’ vote an opportunity for myself, my family, my community? Will permanent, advantageous change be possible?
  29. What will the effect of a vote for Independence be on Grant Funding, particularly for UK-wide funds, like the Big Lottery, and EU funds, like SRDP and LEADER?
  30. Is Community Asset ownership, development and Social Enterprise likely to be more encouraged in an Independent Scotland or not?
  31. Will the ongoing move to Land Reform continue in Scotland either way? Will the progress already achieved be augmented in an Independent Scotland, and will this result in a more equitable pattern of land ownership in Scotland?
  32. What will happen to the present Scottish MPs in Westminster in the event of a vote for Independence? Will they come north and seek to represent the views of the Scottish people in a Scottish Government, or will they want to remain as MPs in the Union? And will an independent Scotland benefit from their talents more directly?
  33. Could a successful ‘Yes’ vote be another example of a “disruptive technology” entering the established “marketplace” and have the potential to change everything?
  34. How many people will benefit from a Yes vote in Scotland? How many will benefit from remaining in the Union? Discounting political allegiance, voting intention, nationality, race and gender how many lives will be positively affected either way?
  35. Which campaign has been run in a more imaginative, positive and constructive way?
  36. Is the ‘No’ campaign disadvantaged because it has the negative choice? Or is the ‘Yes’ campaign fighting against a majority who avoid change and are therefore predisposed to vote ‘No’?

Which way are you going to go?

Scottish Independence? “… the vanguard of a broader populist movement to restore democracy across these islands …” Irvine Welsh in the Guardian today

The Guardian published a series of short opinion pieces by a variety of writers on how they regard Independence. Really. Very. Interesting – whether you agree with Irvine or not.

Aside from Irvine what struck me was the following by Richard Holloway. It articulates exactly how I have felt about the entire debate.

I agree  with the priest in TS Eliot’s Murder in the Cathedral who said he saw “nothing quite conclusive in the art of temporal government”. Economics strikes me as no more conclusive a science than theology, which is why I have been more irritated than enlightened by the use each side has made of the dismal science in the debate; but while the arguments of the yes side may not have persuaded me, the arguments of the no side have propelled me in the opposite direction. Rather than making a positive case for the union, the Better Together campaign has wasted its energy on attacking the idea that Scotland could go it alone, a tactic guaranteed to anger those of us for whom the question was never whether we could but whether we should.

And then I think, none of us will ever know which way we should go, even if it was possible to have all the best available advice, because we’ll only ever test one post-referendum reality – the other will lie discarded, untested, on the other side of the 18th September forever. 

The article is here.

The effect of Scottish Independence on England: @DeborahOrr nails it!

Scottish independence would change England more than Scotland

Had to share this article in Saturday’s Guardian, which was in turn inspired by J. K. Rowling’s recent donation to the Better Together campaign. A really interesting take on what is going on – and right in line with Angus Reid’s Modest Proposal which speaks to, in my mind anyway, the UK’s present democratic deficit.

A Modest Proposal
from the poem, Call for a Constitution

if I as a writer of poetry
were called upon to give a form of words
to model the nation’s behaviour
it would be this: ownership obliges
everyone to respect and to care for
the sacred; to respect and to care for
freedom of conscience; and to recognise
the gift of every individual
to respect it, care for it, nourish it;
to respect and to care for communities;
and to care for the land, and wherever
the land has been abused to restore it
so that it can support all forms of life:
five principles, five fingers on the hand.

NB. Just realised appropos the above, today’s the day when the Scottish Gov’t published its consultation on a constitution. Not as poetic, but I really liked the idea of popular sovereignty – we’re all our own rulers. Heady stuff – a lot to be admired, a lot to be discussed …

Bella Bathurst in the Guardian today: Smacks of petulance, not a respect for democracy

Today in the Guardian, Bella Bathurst concludes:

“In all the different Scotlands, one image always recurs: that of a marriage. Just for the sake of it, let’s pretend that there’s this couple, Albion and Caledonia. They’ve been married for a long time – more than 300 years – and it’s been a productive but troubled relationship. Albion is happy with things as they are, but Caledonia wants to leave. Albion flirts with other countries and Caledonia feels bullied. When Caledonia threatens to walk out, Albion reminds her of all the things she’ll lose: the house, furniture, money, security, music, pictures. Which only makes Caledonia more determined to go. Her blood is up, she’s made plans, she’s sure she’ll get by somehow. All of us – English, Scottish, Welsh, Irish, whether we have a vote in the referendum or not – get to be counsellors on this. So what chance would you give them?”

I had to read this three times to believe that this national newspaper would characterise the vote in Scotland on Independence like this. Smacks of petulance, not a respect for democracy.

It Seemed Like a Good Idea at the Time – We’re going to be on #BBCRadioScotland sometime in May!

… and that’s the name of the radio programme with presenter Claire English – It seemed like a good idea at the time.

It’ll be half an hour of Sadie and me talking about what brought us to Dunans and how we’ve overcome the obstacles to make a success of the project. We enjoyed it immensely, particularly the initial bit standing on Dunans Bridge in full sunshine talking about that moment when we first saw Dunans and fell in love with it {sort of}!

I’ll post more when the programme gets broadcast some time in May. The photo is of Sadie and the BBC team walking back from the initial take on the bridge.

getting-ready

[And notice all those cars to the right of the ladies? That’s nearly 20 people who went on the ever-popular Lairds and Ladies’ tour today!]

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