Sergei The Incredible Is The Champion.

I went round to Sergei's caravan tonight to tell him he had won the title as Craignish' greatest scarecrow. We celebrated with a large shot of vodka....... And then another. We talked long into the night of Tsars and strong men. He told me about his love for Elvira Madigan, the tightrope walker who met her tragic death at the hands of her jealous love, of the last time he saw Rasputin alive and of his proud russian mother.

He challenged me to an arm wrestling match but laughed when he saw my puny arms. 'Didn't your mother feed you borscht?' He roared and he poured me another drink to make up for my bad luck. 

He says he's leaving soon, for a circus in the Steppes. If you want to say goodbye, perhaps it's not too late to catch him - let me know, perhaps we can go round together.

Just before I left his caravan, we toasted the runners up - the marvellous juggler at the Potter-Irwins and the spectacular trapeze artist at the Robertson's house at Moine Ruadh. 

Prizes to follow.