And building control said…

(Nature notes are at the far end today).

…”The enclosure for the water tank is fine; it’ll need a formal variation but don’t apply for that now as there might be other things you want to put on before you’re done. And I should just run it past planning too.”

So I tried to run it past planning but the case officer is away until next week and I left voicemail and email, hoping all will be positive.

To my surprise on Friday I woke early and fully refreshed and the day was as good as forecast, bright and dry. I didn’t get quite as far with the porch cladding as I’d dared to hope, but that wasn’t too much of a surprise; it was a most satisfactory day.

Today saw a return of wet greyness, early heavy rain diminishing as the day progressed, so I spent the morning on admin – domestic as well as building – but in the afternoon I got both the metal verges cut to size and the southerly one bolted in place. The less accessible north verge must wait for a dry spell as even the gentle ten degree slope of the porch/plant room roof is dangerously frictionless in the wet.

I’m longing to be able to say the larch cladding is complete but the long fascia board to cary the guttering is still to be cut and fixed, as are those inside the porch. One of these will form the cover to the bat roosts.

Tomorrow the head honcho at Argyll and Bute building control comes to inspect the questionable drainage that we and our nearest neighbour paid for as part of the land deal but that has yet to be signed off… thankfully it’s not our responsibility. He’ll also visit our neighbour and hopefully sign off his house – a great birthday present if it all goes smoothly.

Nature notes: Friday lunch was sharply punctuated by a male sparrowhawk flying into the window, just a metre from me as we sat eating lunch. It came in at an angle, bounced off and flew, discombobulated, into the nearby birches to collect itself. Saturday outdoors was a bit of a write-off with two walks blocked by fences and secured gates, so on Sunday we drove up the coast to a favourite venue, hoping to see seals and otters. We’d only just got out of the car when Tash pointed north to some large birds, flying our way. Swans. Twenty. Binoculars revealed them to be whooper (rather than Bewick, I think), calling sparingly as they flew. We sat on wet rocks and watched a small group of seals also on wet rocks, that basked, curved like bananas on skerries, heads and tails bent up and away from the rising tide. There were two young and perhaps three or four different adults at different times, ranging from almost black to pale sandy.

Otters? A fleeting and momentary glimpse then no more.