Piglet Invasion!

They're here already! Hughie MacLachlan, having collected the sad corpses of the 'Seven' (wrapped in polythene ready for the freezer), could hardly wait after he'd arrived home yesterday to move the piglets into Ormsaigbeg. They're all over the place, never still for a moment, and they'll be through the pathetic strands of rusty wire Hughie pretends is an electric fence in no time.

Mum's as fed up with things as the residents of Ormsaigbeg, but at least she knows she's only got a couple more weeks with this lot. We'll probably have them around all winter.

Meanwhile, Trevor Potts at the Kilchoan campsite (website here) has a digger working in his field. The Diary suspects that he's constructing an earth wall, probably with a barbed wire entanglement on top, to keep the piglets out. What's so galling is that it's Hughie who's working the digger, making money at both ends of the candle, as they say.

Anyway, enough of piglets. The Diary needs to concentrate on more important things before it becomes too neurotic.