Water Under The Bridge

Any trip to Crail with my father would not be the same without a stop at The Peat Inn; but it was not for lunch but, rather, a glass of liquid sustenance. You can read betweent the lines on that one; but these are the facts. Of course, the rest of us were waiting impatiently outside. In the referenced site, the picture at the top shows the original inn; the white building on the right, and the map in the lower part brings back memories of other places close by.

When we finally arrived in Crail we occupied a house on Castle Street; owned by a local farmer. We had stayed in other houses in prior years; but Castle Street is the one with which I am familiar; and the nice thing about its location was that it was close to Airds fish and chip shop where, each evening, we were allowed to have a poke of chips (a small bag of French fries or a slider ( ice cream sandwich of sorts - but made on the spot).

The daily ritual was breakfast at home and then we’d troop down to the beach (Roome Bay) where the blankets were laid out in one specific location; almost territorial. If anyone else was there; they’d get the look - LOL. Around noon, my mother would head back up to the house to prepare lunch which was scarfed down by the hungry horde; appetites enhanced by the sea air. After the evening meal, the family seemed to separate; with the brother next oldest to me and me wandering off on our own. Sometimes to the puttig green or it would be down to the pond at the beach to search for shells etc. The local greeting would be “gone doon thi pon thi nicht”. Because Scotland is so far north, the evenings were very long and we’d be going to bed while the sun was setting.

Although the trip back home for the wedding anniversary was a no-go, I am happy to post that reservations were made today for a trip home in June of next year.

The schedule is for a flight via Northwest/KLM from San Francisco to Amsterdam where, after a short layover, KLM provides the flight to Glasgow.

Acknowledgement is to be given to my oldest brother who is subsidizing the trip; and with whom I had a great chat today - my nickel - about our memories of Crail.

Today, I was surfing the internet to check out various tartans when, to my surprise, I saw that there is a kilt jacket named the Crail jacket. This took me back to my very younger years when the family summered at Crail. How it brings back fond memories.

First there was the preparation; a major build-up to the long journey of 6o miles. The distance itself was not long but the roads were not built for speed and my father’s driving was even slower. It was always a journey of local knowledge; such as who owned what farm and who owned what store. This brings to mind my father’s pointing out each topic with his thumb as he drove.

My mother would be packing and trying to keep six rambunctious children in line while dad ambled up to the factory to bring the car to the house. That, however, was not a simple task of going there and coming back; he had to check the engine etc at his own leisurely pace. Everyone at home was frazzled by the time he brought the car.

We were packed in the car like ‘Muldoon’s Picnic’; but the car, a huge Star Tourer was big enough for all of us when we added a couple of foot stools for sitting. Additional luggage and bicycles went ahead by a carrier who also carried similar items for the Milne,Breswter and Clink families. During the journey, it would tickle us to see an RAC (Royal Automobile Club) road patrol man on his motorcycle with side car drive towards and give a salute as he recognized the emblem on our car. The highlight of the journey to Crail was to see who saw the sea first. Yells would go up. “I see the sea. I see the sea”.

Back on November 24 of this year, I posted Dilemma and on November 27, the posting was Heartless. Since then, my mind has been in a turmoil in deciding what to do. My heart and good friend, Daniel, said “go”; but my mind kept going over the pros and cons.

On Friday of this week, I read online, via the Scotsman, that there had been heavy rains and flooding throughout Scotland; and, particularly, in the Riverside district of Stirling (my home district) where 60 homes had to be evacuated. Although my health had greatly improved, but still not up to par, I was still giving strong thoughts to going home. The report in the newspaper, however, reminded me of how bad the weather can be and the impact it might be on my health.

So, Friday night, I made the decision not to go to the golden wedding anniversary and planned to call my oldest brother on Saturday to let him know. It should be noted that the reason posted above was not the only one; there were logistics to be considered but the weather was the primary reason. Also, having made the decision, I felt better. It was the right thing to do.

For reasons unknown, I did not call my brother as I had planned. It was not until today, Sunday, that the call was made. My brother was disappointed but did fully understand and was encouraged when I said that a visit was planned for summer when the weather would be better. Again, he offered to subsidize the airfare. A very generous offer.

During my phone call, my brother told me that he had a call from our middle brother, the one about to celebrate his golden wedding. On Friday, our sister-in-law had been at Falkirk hospital where it was determined that she had breast cancer. She was sent home to be admitted on Monday. Yesterday, Saturday, the hospital called to say there was a change of plans and she was to be admitted to Stirling hospital today in the evening.

Now those who read this may wonder why my conversations are with my oldest surviving brother. This may be related to the fact that my deceased brother who had been the oldest, the current oldest brother and I did not and do not have any children and the brother with family has his focus with his children and grand children. Besides, as a frugal Scot, the middle brother makes a toll call to the oldest and knows that I make the interational calls to the oldest very often. LOL

At this date, there are no plans to cancel the celebration at the Inchyra and it is hoped that my sister-in-law will recover well enough to let the celebration go on. By the way, do not confuse the owner of the Inchyra with the Golden Arches. The names are spelled differently. LOL

Based on Rabbie Burns’ “To a Mouse”; with apologies and the rituals of the annual Burns Suppers.

Oh what a sleekit horrible beastie
Lurks in yer belly efter the feastie
Just as ye sit doon amang yer kin
There sterts to stir an enormous wind.

The neeps and tatties and mushy peas
Stert workin like a gentle breeze
But soon the puddin wi the sauncie face
Will hae ye blawin’ all ower the place.

Nae matter whit the hell ye dae
A’bodys gonnae hae tae pay
Even if ye try tae stifle
It’s like a bullet oot a rifle.

Hawd yer bum tight tae the chair
Tae try and stop the leakin’ air
Shift yersel frae cheek tae cheek
Prae god it doesnae reek

But aw yer efforts go assunder
Oot it comes like a clap o’ thunder
Ricochets aroon the room
Michy me a sonic boom!

God almighty it fairly reeks;
Hope I huvnae shit ma breeks
Tae the bog I better scurry
Aw whit the hell, it’s no ma worry.

A’body roon aboot me chokin’
Wan or two are nearly bokin’
I’ll feel better for a while
Cannae help but raise a smile.

Wis him! I shout with accusin’ glower,
Alas too late he’s just keeled ower
Ye dirty bugger they shout and stare
I dinnae feel welcom any mair.

Where ere ye go let yer wind gang free
Sounds like just the job fur me
Whit a fuss at Rabbie’s perty
Ower the sake o’ wan wee fert.

Today, I went to my safe deposit box to see if my passport was still current; which it is. While leafing through the contents I was surprised to find a document that had been given to me by my eldest brother and had slipped my mind. It is a receipt for my grandfather’s purchase of land back in 1894.

This is the land on which my grandfather built his sweetie (think candy) factory after relocating. His more professional title was manufacturing and retail confectioner. The business was in the family for over 100 years before it was sold and the building is now a Masonic Lodge.

Dare I finish this off by saying, “How sweet”. I guess I did. LOL

In surfing the internet today, I found a site that details the Battle of Stirling Bridge; as well as four historical locations that are within walking distance of my home. The insert identifies the Abbey Craig (Wallace National Monument), Cambuskenneth Abbey (the cross in the lower right), Stirling Castle and the bridge itself.

On a more humble but enthusiastic note, I comment that the large bend of the River Forth (middle right of the insert) surrounds the district (Riverside) where my home is located; surrounded by history.

Perhaps in another post, I will provide a little history of our family and its association with the Riverside

Based on what I understand, the pipes are liked or disliked; there is little middle ground. There are those who say that the pipes should be appreciated from a distance and it is suggested that London is a good distance away from Scotland; or, perhaps, New York from Los Angeles. LOL

For me, the sound of the pipes is very stirring and the sound of a lone piper leaves me misty eyed. Today I was watching the Travel Channel which was re-broadcasting a program about the building of the Queen Mary 2 and, at the end of the naming ceremony by Queen Elizabeth, there was a lone piper playing at the bow of the ship. That really tugged at my heart.

On another occasion, many years ago, I was visiting home and had walked up to the castle, the home of the Argyll and Sutherland Highlanders, when, looking down from the battlements, I saw and heard a lone piper. The surroundings and the music are forever in my heart. I should mention that from our house we looked directly up the castle.

Ironically, for all the years I have been in California, I have never attended the local annual Scottish Highland Games which draws pipe bands from around the world.

Now, there is the question. The challenge has been met; so this may be a time to sit back and relax. To all those who were able to complete the NaBloPoMo, I send a “well done”. So, one of the results of the challenge has been to prompt me to be more diligent in posting on a more regular basis.

A special “well done” goes to Daniel who not only completed the challenge but enhanced the appearance of my blog with the NABloPoMo icon and as well as adding a side bar. He, no doubt, will say that it was nothing; but I want to give him the proper credit and let him know he is appreciated.

It is hoped that many of you will continue posting on a regular basis.

Now, go post !!!