I don’t openly profess to be the keeper of an overactive bowel, producing more gas than a North Sea oil rig; but alas I do not speak of the flatulence that emanates after a curry, I speak of the random monumental winds which have lashed this Fair Isle in the past few days. I think in this week alone we’ve witnessed four seasons in three days a remarkable feat of nature; from snow, to rain and hail to Gail-force winds. It’s marvellous and astonishing, and warms this moaning gits cockle right to the bottom of them.

It seems that due to irreprehensible force of “global warming” * we have now entered and encountered a sub-season, in which we face a new barrage of ultimate weather conditions.

However I have yet to name this sub-season, I feel that such a newcomer to the year should have a suitably low-key and non-intrusive introductory name. I believe that I would make quite a good namer-of –things (a mighty job title if ever I heard one). Imagine the man, who invented the spoon, I picture his interest thus;

For the purpose of this narrative “man who invented spoon” will be characterised as follows;

Steve: What’s this?

Brian: I dunno Steve, what is that?

Steve: It looks like a miniature bowl on a stick. Should we name it?

Brian: You bet Stevie, Hows about Jane?

Steve: You can’t call it that, that’s my wife’s name. Suggest some thing else?

Brian: Erm… Miniature bowl on a stick?

Steve: Brian… I think spoon Suits it better…

You see that’s Steve dilemma. He has come up with a fantastic name for a small bowl on a stick and of course if he had called it that it would have not had been as fantastically profitable as the spoon has been I mean every one has one don’t they?

*Which we all know is the fault in the majority of America, cows and Greenpeace.