A Castle in the Sky

In March 2013, after years of talking about it we eventually sell up and move out of the city with our 2 year old, Gracie. We both grew up in the countryside and this is what we want for our daughter. So we swap a 2 bed flat in London for a small country pile on the west coast of Scotland that needs a lot of work. I've done a bit of interior design and my partner, Ed has a good knowledge of the outdoors – but we're on a tight budget and we've both got a lot to learn. It's a life time's project and this is a record of our adventure…

Category Archives: acres


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Dog pooper (Apr 23)

Loads of dog walkers use our drive which is all very nice – but one of them is bagging up their (biodegradable) dog’s poo and disposing of the black plastic bags by throwing them into our bushes/ trees/ general greenery. They have mostly landed at various inaccessible heights and there they remain in full view – and will no doubt continue to do so for hundreds of (non bio-degradable) years.

This bizarre behaviour is sending Ed and I round the twist and we find ourselves mulling over how we might identify the culprit. These range from polite notices – “Polite Notice: Please take your f*****g dog poo home with you – you moron..” to sending off the poo for DNA analysis, DNA matching every dog in the village and then dumping all the bags in the owner’s front garden!

Sadly we’re way behind the Scandinavians on this one – as I’m told that dog owners there must DNA register their dogs. So aside from catching them red-handed I’m not sure what we’re going to do about it…


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Footprints on the lawn…(Apr 21)

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We still haven’t unpacked everything yet because there are too many other urgent things to see to. The lawn is one of them and it’s our (Ed’s) first big job. It’s over an acre in all.

It’s mostly moss, apart from the molehills (see Counting Molehills Apr 25) with varying patches of grass poking through. It’s so spongy we leave our footprints behind when we walk on it. This apparently is not a good thing, although I’m not sure I would have realized for quite some time unless someone had pointed it out. Ed says it’s too soft to use for much and gets boggy.

Neither of us have had a lawn since we were kids so it’s taken a fair bit of research to work out what we’re supposed to do. A sure sign of middle-age, Ed’s bed time reading is now The Lawn Expert and The Country House Garden. The moss is essentially caused by the wet (not much we can do about that up here on the West Coast) and can be made worse by overenthusiastic mowing (one to remember) as well as bad drainage (the drain is still to find…). Who knew? Lawns have drains.

To get rid of the moss we have to spray with moss killer, wait for the moss to die and then ‘scarify’ – basically comb out the moss leaving just the grass behind. We then have to re-seed and re-fertilise. An extra bit of machinery for the scarifying bit is already on it’s way with the new mower.

The new mower has also been something of a research project – and suffice to say Ed’s going to have to sell his motorbike to pay for it. I’ve suggested that he wear his helmet and leathers while he’s doing the lawn and he’ll hardly know the difference!

We’ve been keenly awaiting the arrival of the mower as the speed at which the grass grows up here has taken on mythical proportions. Mr C, the farmer, keeps reminding us that we better get on with it otherwise we’ll soon be up to our knees and then it’ll all be too late…  Although as one of our friends recently pointed out; given the lawn is mostly moss we may have nothing to worry about.

One option would be to rip it all up obviously and start again/lay down new turf but that’s way too expensive. So scarifying it is. As Ed’s only here at the weekends for now, we don’t have that much time to get on top of everything but we’re determined to do as much as we can on our own. Mr C and our various new neighbours smile knowingly at the mention of us scarifying – but not to be put off, Ed sprayed the lawn with moss killer today. Working out the ratio of moss killer to water to square foot of lawn using a 15 litre back pack was challenging to say the least – but fingers crossed we got it right. Now while Ed’s away the moss should start to die… if we got the mixture wrong the grass will die too…

Once we get to the actual scarifying bit (in a few weeks) the view from my desk of a sea of green could easily turn into a sea of brown. I think it’s fair to say I’m just a little bit scared….


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The field across the way… (Apr 9)

There’s a lovely view of one of the fields that surround us from Gracie’s bathroom window. There were sheep in there when we arrived but over the past few days we’ve watched the field be churned up into thick furrows of mud ready for planting.

I’ve been wondering what’s going to go in there – so when Mr C, the farmer and his wife were out in the field on their quad bike this sunny evening we had a chance for a catch up over the gate. They’re planting barley which he’ll harvest in August and use to feed his cows…


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Counting mole hills .. (Apr 5)

_MG_9303 mole trap

We’ve got moles and seemingly quite a few. Every day one or two new molehills appear on the lawn. I spot them in the morning from our bedroom window and text the running total to Ed at work in London. Today’s count is 7 which is the most we’ve had at any one time. I have to say I do find the whole thing quite amusing – there’s just something inherently funny about a lovely flat green lawn being messed up by a tiny little mole. But I shouldn’t laugh as it’s our lawn and I’m not the one dealing with it.

So when Ed comes back at the weekend he shovels up the piles of soil and deposits them underneath the yew tree at the side of the drive. According to Ed, if he didn’t shovel up the hills, the grass underneath would die – and he needs to get his hands down into the mole hole to set a trap (the previous owners left a pile of traps for us along with a spade and a wheelbarrow!). The wheelbarrow is certainly seeing some action as mole hill removal has now become part of the weekend routine and the soil is building up into quite a mound. I’m clearly letting the side down as I should at least be shovelling up the hills while Ed’s away but it’s just been so cold…. I know, I need to harden up.

Anyway 3 weeks have gone by and we are now one mole down. Ed thinks that’s probably it for that half of the lawn – so he’s now concentrating his efforts on the other side. I can’t believe that just one mole could create so many hills or that a new mole won’t just move in and take over.  Either way, if more hills appear I’m leaving the mole despatching to him.


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The Walled Garden (Easter Weekend – Mar 30)

Today was fresh and dry so Ed put our willing new friend Claude to work pruning fruit bushes in the walled garden.   Fiona and I admired the view.

It looks like we have blackcurrants, gooseberries and raspberries – and as yet several other unidentifiable berries.   We planted our first tree – a young apple next to the old. We have half a dozen old trees that obviously haven’t been pruned for years and we’re not sure what to do about them,  although they look beautiful just as they are.  Twisted and ancient and covered in lichen.

What we are actually going to do with the walled garden itself is a much bigger question. It is of course wonderfully romantic; a little winding path leads up to a faded painted wooden door that opens onto a secret garden enclosed by huge stone walls and rusted iron railings. The railings make up one wall and are overgrown with bushes. Today Ed found a pretty iron gate hidden behind them; presumably the once grander entrance for the family of the house with the gardener’s wooden door set in the wall to the side.

But… the walls are crumbling in places and the faded, rusted bits will all need attending to if we are going to maintain this beautiful place properly. There’s the grass to keep under control and the fruit trees to look after – and then we need to decide what to do with the rest of it … vegetable patches? an orchard? greenhouses? flower beds? The previous owners even suggested a swimming pool which has got to be crazy up here right? Then whatever we decide, we need to work out how we’re going to find the time to do it.

It’s easy to be seduced by the magic of this place but once in a while we realise the enormity of what we’ve taken on. It can be overwhelming at times but I’ve quickly worked out it’s best not to think about it too much – you just have to deal with whatever is in front of you. I suppose it’s a kind of love affair – and as long as we have the energy and passion for this wonderful place we’ll find a way to make it all work.


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Reality Check..(Mar 8)

It’s raining when we arrive (of course), miserably grey with a freezing cold wind that feels like a slap round the face as soon as we step out of the car.    It’s only marginally warmer inside (we keep our coats, hats and scarves on all day) – a fact I try to ignore by focussing on where all the boxes should go and sorting out our beds.

The removal men are very taken with the place and keep stopping to take photographs.   There’s no doubt that moving here is the stuff of fairy-tales but today all my romantic feelings are trumped by the reality of just how bitterly cold it is.

There’s a big woodburner in one of the rooms and the previous owners have left us a message telling us there’s plenty of logs.  But when we eventually go to look for them there’s nothing in the shed, so we resort to the local garage who sell small bags for a fiver.  They fill the burner (and the room) with grey smoke that stings our eyes – and when Ed chops one open with an axe, found in the empty shed, it’s soaked all the way through…

So we go to bed early, freezing cold and smelling of woodsmoke. Not quite the first night I’d imagined.

In the mayhem of all the half unpacked boxes I manage to find a set of very thick thermals. The last time I wore them was camping with Ed on the side of a mountain at extremely high altitude…