Now that all the boring stuff about 7,500 tonne ships crashing into Kilchoan is out of the way, we can concentrate on the serious things in life, like the local pig population.
We had high hopes of the pigs on our neighbouring croft. They seemed friendly and well-behaved. You will understand our disappointment and concern, then, when we spotted the new piglets on the loose and foraging around the dustbins.
There's been some moving around of Hughie's pigs. This sow - Hughie loves her so much he's forgotten her name - has had her seven piglets removed and has the pleasure of Bobby's company. Bobby, as usual, is hogging all the food, so she's in for a thin time.
Her piglets have been moved into the woodland run with the other seven piglets, so there are fourteen of them in there. They've already escaped once, and went rampaging down the Ormsaigbeg road. However, they showed some promise when at least some of them....
....took up archaeology. The boot is undoubtably mesolithic, the old pot is obviously Iron Age, and the bottle is recent.