Rest and be thankful

Roads, like ambition, can creep as well as soar. As he reached the top of the Rest, by the long low road, the runner noticed the higher road was blocked with traffic lights, lorries, caravans....... and sheep. Little stubborn, filthy sheep who insisted on hanging about in the verges of that miserable highway, content it seemed to eke out a living among the oil soiled grasses, and the petrol fumes, rather than head downhill where the air was clear and the grass safe.
How curious it was, then, that both roads led to exactly the same place anyway.
And in that place, our friend stopped to rest. He was still heading west, just like the heavy horse told him, but  there was no sign, yet, of the particular kind of circus he had hoped for.

Glasgow

 

On the far bank of the river, a shipyard pretended to be a carnival. The runner stopped and, with the sun in his eyes, he listened to the hammer and the hum. In the dark  fire-work scented pavillions, air craft carriers were being built. Some  people still found work and worried about finding work tomorrow.
"... And there will be no hooliganism," he thought he heard some one say, " there will be no vandalism, there will be no bevvying"
The runner turned around to look for the source of the voice but there was no-one. 
"Who said that?"
But there was no-one there to answer.
A rat ran across the paved walkway and slipped into the water.
A cloud moved in front of the sun and the runner knew it was time get going if he wanted to hit the open road before night fall.

Keep going west

"Is this the circus? Are you a circus horse?"
The heavy horse on the M8 looked down at the little man. He longed to go with him, to gallop around the ring with a ballerina on his back. But, not everyone is free to follow their dreams.
"Keep going", he said " keep going west."

Frankie goes to Holyrood

At the end of the royal mile, the runner stopped to check his map.  Behind him, the streets teamed with actors and street performers but the address scribbled in his own handwriting said  'holyrood' and here it was - a strange deconstructed smorgasbord of granite blocks, shaped metal and dreams -standing at the centre of one of the most important decisions in the history of Scotland -  whether to stay in the UK, or leave it and become a new, separate and independent state. 

This was no circus and the colour and energy and madness of the surrounding  city seemed suspended a few yards before it.

"What do people want from this place if not circus tricks and spectacle", he asked. 

In the public circulation area, Edwin Morgan, the great scottish poet, explained .

"What do the people want of the place? They want it to be filled with thinking persons as open and adventurous as its architecture.

A nest of fearties is what they do not want.

A symposium of procrastinators is what they do not want. A phalanx of forelock-tuggers is what they do not want. And perhaps above all the droopy mantra of ‘it wizny me’ is what they do not want."

"I see" said the runner "so not a juggler or a sword swallower?"

"No"

Outside, a fire-eater walked passed, flame extinguished for now. He stopped, "you are running away to the circus?"

"Yes"

"So am I"

"Do you know where it is?"

"No - we are all trying to find the road that leads there -  all the performers and street acts you see around here. i don't know where it is but i think it is in the west -  we have a week  to get there - if we do not find it we will perform here on these damp city streets. Good  luck, my friend,  in your search."

The runner nodded.

"Good luck"

So, that is where he must go!

The runner re-appeared at the end of July. The Olympic year had passed and his body had changed. His legs felt thicker. The village lay quiet in the morning sun. A man was walking his collie dog and a woman was tending her vegetable patch. The loch beyond the village was peaceful too. A yacht with white sails silently tacked down towards Goat Island..
He smiled, and then something caught his eye. Some light, or at least a flicker of some light, out there beyond the peninsula. The runner paused to wonder and, for the first time, he felt a strange new yearning deep within himself.
He tried to translate this new feeling - a sort of dull pain that twisted into a thrill now and then lay heavy in his scarecrow torso. If he had more experience, he might have known exactly what that feeling was but there, that morning, he felt sure that it was a desire to run away  - to join the circus, or the carnival or to star in a musical.
Perhaps what he had heard was true - that there was a great circus in Edinburgh located in the Holyrood area of the capital. So, that is where he must go!

Your inner Scarecrow wants to join the carnival, star in a musical or run away to the circus. set him free during the arts festival. Prizes will be awarded to the best scarecrows and to the best piece of garden art. To get on the Trail map please call Clare on 500 242 before May 25th. Our blog is craignishscarecrow.blogspot.co.uk
Rules—build a scarecrow or a piece of art, try to use natural or recycled material then stick it in your garden 2-11 August

The winners!

The overall winner was the one at Craobh road end, Other categories were: Most Olympian - Kath MacDonald's; Most likely to scare crows - Harry the Hydra at the shop; Most generous - the Queen of Tarts by Chris; Most Green - Kat Robertson's; Just the Beezness - Mandy's Queen bee.

Congratulations team GB!

Pegasus or Arion?

Shiver me timbers

Yo ho , ye scurvy dogs. May ye always be slashing and broad-sidin' an' sluggin' grog at the pirate parade this day. Womanizin' , weighin' anchor' and plunderin' - that be how we sail.

Luck be a lady tonight

Judging time draws nearer for the scarecrow competition. Simon and Namaste have a hard but fun task ahead of them choosing the fittest, the finest, the funniest and the first prize. Rumour has it they are awarding a prize for best bribe but that rumour might have been put about by themselves in an attempt to restock their whisky shelf. Good luck to every one and a very special thankyou to Alison Campbell at Aird farm Holiday Cottages http://www.craignishholidays.co.uk/ who has donated bottles of wine for the prizes this year ( some chocs there for the kids too )

Queen of the scarecrows

Has anyone else noticed?

Florence and Fred, much loved scarecrows of the Bartons, arrived late this year no-one is quite sure why.  Possibly they felt that they weren't Greek gods or similar but they are scarecrows and so decided to put in an appearance.  Having fallen in love with them last year I am very glad to see them in position outside the shop

 

I do, however have a question.  Has anyone else noticed the similarity between Florence and Fred, and Turkish, the scarecrow on Finners boat?   Do you suppose they might have been up to something that made them late?  I wouldn't be at all surprised.  Turkish does look very like Florence.  Maybe I'm maligning them but ---- 

Hmmm - Who's the Daddy?

or

It's a family affa-ai-r, it's a family affai-air

Hydra

Some faces are prettier than others

Bobbing along, bobbing along

He's here or there or somewhere.  Could be somewhere on the oggin bobbing along in the middle of West Highland Week.  Finners (alias Findlay Clark) has tied his scarecrow securely to the railings of his wonderful little red yacht.  Red October is racing with Findlay looking after her and hoping to win lots of stages.

The scarecrow is called "Turkish", Findlay is hoping that most boats will slow down behind him to have a look when they are racing so that he can win by default.

Good luck Finners and Big Red, enjoy your sail.  Look after them Turkish and make sure they get the odd trophy or two. I don't know why it is called Turkish maybe because it's not Greek?  Meanwhile

Bobbing along, bobbing along on the beautiful briny sea (de dum, de dum, de dum)

With a royal flush, they raised the stakes

Could the prize for scarecrow go to the Richardsons for a second year? If I was a gambling man I certainly would have some of my money on this favourite

MISSING PERSON!!!!

Some nice soul has taken the Kintraw scarecrow.  I hope it is a joke and not something done out of badness.  The whole point about having all the scarecrows is to make a humourous event out people's efforts.  Each of the scarecrows is made lovingly by an individual to provide entertainment for us all.

Now, if someone is taking him on a road trip and sending back photos from his journeys along with blog stories we could maybe forgive them.  If they are going to ransom him we could maybe forgive them but please don't just have taken him to destroy or hide.

There won't be a reward for his return, but wouldn't it be wonderful if he just appeared back at the gate to Kintraw.

BRING HIM BACK WE MISS HIM!!

Crafty Kitchen Wisdom

God syndrome quote # 1
from Jeremy Clarkson

“I don’t understand bus lanes. Why do poor people have to get to places quicker than I do?"

Even a God's fig leaf can get a little small

I went to have a conversation with Clare's naked runner.  He's so clever.  Arrived in the village in time to view Katie running with torch and see the others going to the hall.

What a wonderful fun evening that was.  Even though it felt as if we were standing around for ages, everyone was chatting the sun shining and few midges biting.  It was a brilliantly organised occasion.  Well done Bruce, Chris and Val (Not forgetting all the runners, canoeists and bold sailors)

However there he stood at the entrance to the Anchorage, tired but exultant.  His Laurel crown on his head and fig leaf in place.  I was a little concerned about his fig leaf, it was beginning to look a little brown and shrunken but he didn't mind, seemed happy enough with the situation.  If you look closely at this photo you can find it, just.

A rather shrunken fig leaf, but, hey, who cares?

Maintaining watch over the yacht centre and the road into the village.

He was too tired to talk but as I stood beside him I could clearly see how many cars were coming in to the village, hopefully to attend all the festivities and go to the gallery in the church.

As well as music every night in the Galley there is also the celebrations for the start of West Highland Week this weekend.  Music, barbecue and hog roast as well as ordinary food over  at the Lord of the Isles.

And talking of music the greatest queen and god in history apart from Alexandra the great probably, is standing in the Catterwell garden - Freddie Mercury, God of Rock.

Maybe not Greek but then the poster said Greek gods and queens. 

Friday at the Olympic Opening Ceremony

As people all over Craignish switch on their tellies to watch the Olympic extravaganza, Queeny gets her spot in the mosh pit staked out along with one of her pets. " come on Team GB " she yells losing her cool momentarily