The croft had seen better days when Frederica and Airchie arrived to take it over. The weather had played havoc with the place during the two years it lay empty and the mice had moved in. In much earlier times it would have sported a kailyard and maybe a milk cow or two along with some grunters as well as the obligatory hens and deuks. But time and the Amsterdam money had changed the need for all of that and it wasn’t long before the Dutch folk had transformed what was by then a tummle-doon wreck of a place into something more suited to genteel Twentieth Century country living. The ancient lath and plaster walls were stripped back to the stone then rebuilt with modern plasterboard. A damp course was dug to stop the water getting in from below and a new roof was erected to stop it getting in from above. The two tiny out-fields became one big vegetable garden and the ancient outhouses were demolished to make way for the chalet which was originally planned to house Beatrix should she ever return. But she never did return and if asked why, would cite clegs and midges and that biting cold winter wind as the reason despite everyone knowing that it was in reality down to broken dreams. All the while the renovations were happening, Florence the Morris Minor sat abandoned and derelict in the corner of the field behind the old hen shed. In summer she was hidden behind a green wall of docks and nettles. In the depths of winter, the snow hid all the rust and made her look quite appealing. And in the spring after the chalet was built, Airchie got her going again. She’d never have passed the MOT test. But for the price of a fresh set of spark plugs and a few hours tinkering with a spanner she started up and went back on the road for a bit. It wasn’t long before she broke down again though, and this time it was terminal. The suspension had collapsed overnight and even the most dedicated owner would have seen the light and phoned the local scrappy. But not Airchie. He’d been reading up about windmills. And so it was that Florence the Morris Minor was transformed into the very first wind-turbine to be erected on the slopes of Ben Aucherie.
Fae ‘The Secret Sunday Club’ Available from Amazon @ £7.95 on a guid day
Kak 
Airchie’s Windmill
By Duncan Harley
The croft had seen better days when Frederica and Airchie arrived to take it over. The weather had played havoc with the place during the two years it lay empty and the mice had moved in. In much earlier times it would have sported a kailyard and maybe a milk cow or two along with some grunters as well as the obligatory hens and deuks. But time and the Amsterdam money had changed the need for all of that and it wasn’t long before the Dutch folk had transformed what was by then a tummle-doon wreck of a place into something more suited to genteel Twentieth Century country living. The ancient lath and plaster walls were stripped back to the stone then rebuilt with modern plasterboard. A damp course was dug to stop the water getting in from below and a new roof was erected to stop it getting in from above. The two tiny out-fields became one big vegetable garden and the ancient outhouses were demolished to make way for the chalet which was originally planned to house Beatrix should she ever return. But she never did return and if asked why, would cite clegs and midges and that biting cold winter wind as the reason despite everyone knowing that it was in reality down to broken dreams.
All the while the renovations were happening, Florence the Morris Minor sat abandoned and derelict in the corner of the field behind the old hen shed. In summer she was hidden behind a green wall of docks and nettles. In the depths of winter, the snow hid all the rust and made her look quite appealing. And in the spring after the chalet was built, Airchie got her going again. She’d never have passed the MOT test. But for the price of a fresh set of spark plugs and a few hours tinkering with a spanner she started up and went back on the road for a bit.
It wasn’t long before she broke down again though, and this time it was terminal. The suspension had collapsed overnight and even the most dedicated owner would have seen the light and phoned the local scrappy. But not Airchie. He’d been reading up about windmills. And so it was that Florence the Morris Minor was transformed into the very first wind-turbine to be erected on the slopes of Ben Aucherie.
Fae ‘The Secret Sunday Club’
Available from Amazon @ £7.95 on a guid day
ISBN: 979-8876245885
About Duncan Harley
Author, photographer and feature writer.