The Glorious Twelfth

When we decided to get married (or civil unioned as we thought at the time) the planning phase was so long we could pick that day. Actually I suppose most couples get to do that but at the time I think we were just grateful that someone, somewhere, someplace, somehow (ah Bernstein) would let us be legally joined. But then I’m inclined to forget important temporal details so we had to pick a date I would remember – the glorious twelfth, I’ll definitely remember that!

Seven years on so much has changed apart from the very obvious lack of wife beside me, I feel more than a little whirlpooled as Gélise (who’s birthday it is today) would say. Jane wrote with such enthusiasm two years ago, we had such grand plans for a new life in France, we planned, we packed, we left, we returned and in the end we were parted.

But today we would have gone for a grand day out to somewhere with water, had a picnic, a treat and then a nice tea of fish and chips. So off to Anstruther and a boat to the Isle of May, a previously suggested excursion dismissed because Jane had been there and had no particular desire to return. Oh well, now I can do what I like, please myself … except she had the last laugh.

Quite a nice day if a little cloudy so I stopped at the Harbourmaster’s House in Dysart, home of the Fife Coastal Path. And then on to Anstruther by the slower but more scenic Fife coastal road – very well kent from visits to the long departed aunties in East Wemyss. Oh no, it’s the Anstruther Muster – no idea what it was about apart from a lack of parking, a lot of bunting and people trying to have a good time in that slightly desperate British way. I found somewhere to park and have my picnic lunch with a nice view of the town and then got myself organised for a boat trip – backpack, binoculars, waterproofs, flask of tea (middle-aged woman goes wild) and headed for the harbour. 

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At the wee booth that takes the money the woman was most apologetic – the crossing for today was cancelled as it was too windy to land on the island. Oh well, I was never keen on too much uppy-downy. After a commiseration ice cream I decided the coastal path to Pittenweem was the way to go and I did have a lovely walk and my cup of tea to fortify the return. And of course it was really much nicer to come home for tea and to the pussycats.

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