The island’s jungle drums must have been beating – word seemed to have got out that the Happy Farmer would be heading ‘out of town’, travelling over to the Rhinns of Islay, to take his ‘good lady wife’ out, to celebrate our wedding anniversary.

I could, at this point, have been mistaken for thinking there had been some unheard-of meticulous planning of the finer details of the evening on the Happy Farmer’s part, as everything fell so smoothly into place for him.

The greeting party were out in force to welcome us.

Our lift dropped us off with the waves breaking softly on the shore beside the hotel on a balmy summer’s evening and the timing couldn’t have been more perfect, as on the road, beside the hotel, the Jeep that just happened to be passing, at that very moment, only happened to have one Handsome Farmer at the wheel.

This farmer, who 30 years ago, as I had stepped nervously into the sunshine as a young bride, had stood, piping on the doorstep of my childhood home, taking the bagpipes and the island’s traditions, all the way south to the Midlands.

 

Thirty years ago Rosemary and Donald, the Happy Farmer, were married

Thirty years ago Rosemary and Donald, the Happy Farmer, were married

 

The skirl of the pipes, a Scottish wedding tradition, has its roots in wishing the couple luck as they enter into their marriage, as well as scaring away any evil spirits that may be lurking.

As I was swept along in a classic vintage wedding car, my father at my side, those bagpipes sang their way around the roundabouts through the busy lunchtime traffic of Midland commuters, all the way to the church, where my future brother-in-law was piping in the last of the guests.

Stepping from the brightness of the day into the dark, cool interior of the nave, the stained-glass windows lit up by the sunshine, I followed behind the vicar, on the journey up the aisle, to my lovely, kilted Happy Farmer – and so our journey into marriage began.

Arriving off the small Loganair plane following our honeymoon, we were soon immersed in more island traditions as, back at the farmhouse, it was already a buzzing hive of industrious activity. My late mother-in-law had all the preparations in hand for the Gaelic wedding blessing and island celebrations that were to follow, having enlisted the help of a strong core of family and friends.

The next few days were a whirl of visits and visitors. Dumplings were soon simmering on the stove. Aunts and cousins were busy with cakes and sandwiches. Venison and salmon were being roasted and poached and carloads of food and decorations were being transported to the village hall of Portnahaven.

The night was made by the warmth of the island’s community and the fantastic time-honoured traditions of a good Scottish ceilidh. The islanders certainly knew how to celebrate and thankfully the Happy Farmer’s trusty old ‘music centre’ didn’t have to make an appearance after all, as the old Gow and Mooney stepped up to the mark with their ‘squeeze boxes’ on stage, along with the ‘show band’, who, having been persuaded by the Happy Farmer, had extended their island stay for a couple more nights following a spectacular show night performance.

The packed and lively dancefloor was led through an array of Scottish reels, accompanied by the spontaneous and beautiful lilts of local Gaelic singers and then old Bobby, who could be seen performing his party trick of pirouetting in a circle in the middle of the hall floor whilst still piping away.

 

New puppy Tiggy, a flat coated retriever, looks on at the clipping antics with Hansel and Muffin

New puppy Tiggy, a flat coated retriever, looks on at the clipping antics with Hansel and Muffin

 

The party and celebrations went on long into the night, as the hall spilled out into the village, and in the moonlight, we danced under the stars to the sound of those bagpipes.

Thirty years later and on spying the Handsome Farmer in his passing Jeep, the Happy Farmer soon had him evicted from behind the wheel, persuading him that he simply must join us for the anniversary celebrations.

The hotel was jam packed with visitors, but as we squeezed our way through – and there they were, the Happy Farmer’s chums, silage just finished, squashed in at the bar. They had even thoughtfully saved a stool for me, as they stood, huge smiles on their faces and drams in their hands, awaiting the Happy Farmer’s arrival.

Such a hearty welcome, but after a while, I did manage to peel the Happy Farmer away and, as we left those farmers to sup on their drams, we sat down to enjoy deliciously tender Argyll steaks, along with a bottle of champagne on ice.

Thirty years (it seems like yesterday) ... but looking back over the decades I realised I’ve managed to raise quite a team, including three children, eight dogs, six cats, four pigs, two horses, a pony, three goldfish, and one Happy Farmer, not forgetting all those hens, calves, and lambs.

Thankfully, the summer weather had at last reached these island shores, as it's always a team effort at Persabus. The whole gang like to be involved, even if it is merely from the spectators’ stance, behind a fence.

 

Its a family and team effort for the island clippings

It's a family and team effort for the island clippings

 

The slightest hint of excitement and everyone appears at the farm gate. Those horses can be seen watching intently as the Singing Shepherd rounds up the sheep in the fields, tearing along on the quad bike, as the sheep dog works his magic.

Across from the horses, the Highland cows, have meandered off the hill, and are poised ready to enjoy an afternoon’s entertainment, whilst also enjoying a quick scratch on the gate post. Even the farm cats can be seen prowling along the old stone walls of the fank.

 

Colonsay Shepherdess Morag takcling a huge Suffolk tup at Persabus

Colonsay Shepherdess Morag takcling a huge Suffolk tup at Persabus

 

There is the buzz of anticipation in the air, as extra helping hands are gathered from the guests staying in the farm cottages, as they happily ‘opt in’ to enjoy a bit more of the ‘Persabus Experience’. Gates are lifted and pens erected. Everything is at the ready as the ‘Pampering Salon’ pulls into the yard, for this year’s sheep clipping extravaganza.

The Colonsay Shepherdess at the handpiece and soon those fleeces were sheared, and even the Happy Farmer’s back could be heard creaking, as he too was soon unable to resist treading the boards – a set of clippers to hand, revisiting the days when he did all the clipping.

His journey from the hand shears of the past, through the transition to a set of electric shears, before the arrival of the purpose-built clipping station. All singing, all dancing, complete with harnesses and a gangway, allowing the sheep to move smoothly through, as fleeces are shorn, before they go skipping off up the hillside, much to the amusement of the cows, the horses and the cats, looking on from the ‘spectators’ gallery’.

 

Testing his creaking back, Donald takes to the boards once more

Testing his creaking back, Donald takes to the boards once more

 

It is the characters and their charm, the welcome of the strong, close-knit community, the traditions of island life, that have steadily drawn me in, encouraging me on my journey, helping me all those years ago to settle and transition from city living to island life.

That and the anchor and love of one very Happy Farmer.