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So that's the election over with. We had a policeman in. Normally the local special does whatever needs doing, but not this year. Off the boat (a day early because of the timetable,) comes a 'proper' policeman from Oban. As the hotel is the source of all information there is a steady stream of people wanting to know why he is in. They don't really believe the election is a reason, they go away still looking suspicious. The proper policeman has his knife-proof vest and a belt with all the latest police-tools; handcuffs, sticks and a radio that constantly interrupts. I'm not sure when Coll elections were first deemed as dangerous as Zimbabwean ones! The following day, fortified with the best Coll fried eggs he goes off to monitor the polling station.
I go to vote at five. He isn't there, but I've left the golf clubs at home so the flimsy ballot boxes go unmolested. There are two of us voting, so the ladies guarding the boxes give us instructions on how to vote. We listen very intently as we suspect we may be tested before we get the precious ballot papers. I look at the list of local councillors. I've read all the bumf, and it has gelled into an amorphous group of promises to do the same stuff. Five out of the eight are Mac-something and the only name I can remember was the one I definitely wasn't going to vote for. I play safe and vote for all the Mull residents. The papers slide satisfyingly down into the ballot boxes. I'm sure the boxes were made on Blue Peter. They are probably recyclable and made of recycled material, but I prefered the metal boxes that were re-used, although I suppose they were a pain to store. The proper policeman likes the new boxes, they aren't as heavy. He has to deliver them to the helicopter which takes them to the counting house. Our helicopter probably worked because we had a proper policeman. He is back at the hotel just after the helicopter flies away. No riots on Coll so a job well done, preventative policing at its best (cynical? Me?). And we had about 70% turnout, a bit down I think on the last election, maybe everyone was on the beach.

Just a quick blog, we're heading south for my husband's brother's son's wedding. It's in Norfolk, so we aren't too sure exactly what is happening but I'm looking forward to being on the right side of a bar for a change, and we will be in Adnam's country. Get back to Coll first thing Wednesday morning and back to the wrong side of the bar. Sometimes I wonder why I don't do a different job!

The Waverley was in on Monday. 拢550 was raised by Development Coll towards the building of a new community centre, so thanks to everyone who helped/spent money. There are still Tshirts and Waverley prints left, but all the burgers got eaten.

We went out yesterday. It was very easy and enjoyable, I think we should do it more often.
We needed sheep feed. Our sheep aren't impressed by the growing grass and eat the hens feed once they've scoffed their's. On the hen feed bags it says 'Do not feed to Ruminants' so I guess we'll be feeding them a while longer. So off we went to get the rest of a ton of feed, instead of pretending we'd just need a couple of bags. We got a guided tour of the polytunnel. We were there a couple of weeks ago (getting a few bags of sheep feed) but everything is bigger now. We tasted the strawberries (several times) and shared a two inch cucumber and side-shooted tomatoes and looked for peaches on the peach tree, but without success. And then we admired two buckets of gungy brown liquid. This is the organic liquid feed, and should never be stirred until everyone is ready to leave the polytunnel. It stinks! But crawling about on the floating bits were loads of half-inch long maggots (that's 12 mm). In the house are some baby quail, so some maggots were gently scooped up and taken in for the quail. For several minutes the quail eyed up the wriggling things until one brave one picked one up in his beak. He threw it down several times and then suddenly realised it was edible and swallowed it. That was it. Most of the quail were dashing round throwing maggots in the air and swallowing them. They may never want to eat chick crumbs again now. And after that little bit of entertainment it was off to hump bags of feed.