So, the Vole family have packed up the burrow and moved North to Uncle Cedric’s old place on Sanday. Some trouble when we arrived with squatters of the rattus variety, but after a full and frank change of views with my dear wife, they soon saw the error of their ways and departed back to the OIC where they belong.
We are very pleased with some recent developments – there is a vole in the White House. Yes, our Cousin Donald, this is incredible, he is so gonna be great, has got a big job in Washington – Head of Hair Security in the White House with special responsibility for nit control. His duty office is just behind the President’s ear. It’s not an easy job, managing comb-over in place and reacting to climate change – the heat amongst the follicles can hit 53C. He is up to the job and having a lovely time. When TrexaMey came over from London he even arranged a small deposit for her, that wasn’t sweat running down her face, but I am not meant to tell anyone, Cuz could get done for breaching Head Line security.
The island is delightful, we love being here, so far removed from the fleshpots of Stromness, the culturati at the P. Rats Centre, the delightful political dialogue at the Pier Head Parliament on a Saturday night. No problems at all apart from the geese, bloody tourists, honking in the middle of the night, eating our grass, and shitting in the garden. Change is lovely, keeps us all on our paws. And nothing ever happens out here. I hope.