Happily Ever After

Life in The Rural Retreat with a beautiful wife, three cats, garden wildlife, a camera, a computer – and increasing amounts about running

Earlier posts can be found on Adventures of a Lone Bass Player, where this blog began life. Recent entries can be found here.


Power To The People

by admin - 20:15 on 03 April 2012

The Rural Retreat, I discovered today, is a vital part – maybe the most important one – of half the Black Isle's electricity network. Yes, that surprised me too.

Overnight snowfall on the Retreat's garden was light, and continued sporadically throughout the day interspersed with sun, thaw, and hail. This was definitely a day to stay indoors in the warm – except there wasn't any.

The power failed around 8am, which meant no heat, no shower, no hot drinks, no toasted bagels, no radio, no internet; so I put on an extra jumper and settled down with a book. More than three hours later, despite a couple of flickers of light, the power remained off and the coal fire was ablaze for the first time in several weeks.

Around noon, an examination of the fuse box seemed long overdue. All the switches appeared to be untripped but I prodded a few of them, just in case, and was rewarded by light and the sound of the Rayburn creaking into life. Later in the day I learned that power across much of east Black Isle was restored at the same moment.

Some people might call this coincidence; others might say that the Retreat's status as a mighty electrical hub has been revealed.

Trophy Cam 23

An Arctic evening was no deterrent to pine martens, as proved by one of last night's Bushnell snaps, made artistic by some whirling snowflakes. The Pentax also snapped Mrs Marten on the gate, and a junior marten thirty minutes later, but as neither would stay still for the required 1.5 seconds needed to capture them the images will remain unpublished.

Goldfinch 9

The goldfinch pair are now regular visitors, and there's been a distinct increase in greenfinch numbers since our neighbouring landowner reduced the height and thickness of the shrubbery which separates our estates. Another coincidence? Or conditions more to the liking of finches?

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