Now is the winter of our discontent. Like most of Scotland, we have been snowed in here at Castle Sandison for the past three weeks. We have had to hoof it up and down our track to the village for essential supplies: booze and baccy.

Still, it is all very lovely and, when the wind is not howling, it is deep, crisp and even even and exhilarating. Each morning our track is like a new book, fresh with new footprints in the snow; deer, fox, birds, each telling a different story.

The sudden thaw a week ago saw our local rivers – Borgie, Naver, Halladale, Thurso and Wick burst their banks. Water was not far below the road bridge over the Naver at Bettyhill and, upstream, a huge loch had formed – where no loch should be. The Thurso also was up and angry, and almost in the main street. So was the Wick River. Just upstream from Wick, at Stirkoke, several hundred acres of land were under water.

Many of our local lochs are sheets of ice. Landing ducks – mallard, teal, et al, skid to a halt, eventually, with surprised looks on their faces. Raptors, buzzard, sparrow hawk and merlin, swoop in rapaciously to our garden bird table in search of whatever they can grab. We are being eaten out of house and home by a bunch of long-beaked thugs from Scandinavia, spangle-waist-coated starlings.

I suppose that everything is as it should be, but I do worry about our wild, brown trout. Will they survive? No need to worry, really. They will survive and be there for us again come the Ides of March. After all, they have being doing so for thousands of years.

Ann and I wish you all a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year - Nollaig Chridheil agus Bliadhna Mhath Ur!

Best regards from Hysbackie!