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”.