At the beach

Where've I been this week then?

I've been here.



Fife.

We used to live here. It's lovely coming back on holiday, because it's the best of both worlds. It's a holiday, so there's none of that daily life stuff to bother about. But it's familiar territory. We know where to go, where to shop, what to do, all the best haunts. We've caught up with a few old friends too.

This is the May Isle. You can take a boat trip there.


But guess what? I never have done. I don't know why. Just didn't quite get round to it when we lived here, and haven't ever got round to it since. I love the fact that I know it's really called the May Isle, not the Isle of May. It's the Isle of May on maps and to visitors, but locals have always called it the May Isle. I love knowing that. I love calling it the May Isle.

This is what my daughter looked like about 6 years ago.


She still loves the beach. She doesn't get there very often these days.

I've lifted these photos from a post I wrote a year or so ago about my favourite beach in Fife. This is how I described the beach then.

"I don’t know how many hours I spent on this beach, in the company of this view, but it was many, and I don’t regret a single one. I love this beach. I got to know it, as you get to know a friend. I learned that the day after a storm, it might be covered with slimy green seaweed, but that a few days later it would be pristine clean again. I learned that the best way to spot sea glass, is by walking into the sun, preferably when it was low in the sky. I learned that gravelly sand can be as good for sand castles as fine sand. I learned that the sea would accept any anxiety or ill feeling, tied in my imagination to the stone in my hand, and thrown as far as I could manage it. The sea could be waveless, still as a pond, or dancing daintily, or crashing feverishly. It could be twinkling with sunlight, blue and silver, or it could be grey and dark, not bothering to reflect the sky at all. I tell you, every time I went to that beach, it offered me both something new and something familiar. Like the best of relationships."

You're allowed to recycle old blog posts when you're on holiday, aren't you?

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