Sceptical tank

It’s stopped raining, but the humidity hasn’t abated. Claire phones me while waiting for a bus from Oban to Kyle. She tells me that the weekend is for resting, but my list makes no allowance for weekends.

I start on the Barn’s septic tank. The farmer has broken the neck of it with the pipe that sucks it empty. I remove the loose soil, put in a retaining layer of structural cardboard, and fill the gap with hand batches concrete. For a finale, I top it all with a new manhole cover and hope that the concrete will keep it in place.

Bill comes round with his laptop. He’s worried that there’s spyware on it after doing some injudicious installs off the internet. He must be one of the last people in the country that still uses SatNavs rather than a phone app. Anyway, I start a full scan and send him away. Later he calls to say that the scan found a trojan, so maybe that is how his credit card got used to order $1400 worth at a US fashion store yesterday.

Next up is the party site. I hook the flail mower up to the tractor, grease the nipples, fill the tank. Within minutes the mower is seized with long damp thistles and grass. I clean it and try again. No joy. And one of the drive belts now needs replaced.

I resort to strimmer action. Very hot, sweaty, physical action, but at least it achieves the desired result. I even find the energy to take out the worse offending patches of comfrey, which are flowering again.

There are messages on the phone from Claire. The road is closed on Loch Lomond at Luss. The Kyle bus won’t be able to get through instead of waiting helpless, she hitches to Crianlarich - Big girl’s pants, as she puts it. Ironic because she has been worrying about Angus hitching in Europe. Anyway, she made it safe in time for the Skye bus.

There’s just one more thing to finish - the spring. Mike provides a short length of drainage pipe. I slice it lengthways, cut it to size, and install it around the inlet pipe. Secured with bailer twine, it should prevent most mud and pine needles from choking the supply.

I potter around, putting things away, hanging up washing, dealing with dishes. Finally, I eat, watch Paper Moon, and call the day a good ‘un.