…were what we all had yesterday, after an energetic trip to the Isle of May, on board the RiB Osprey. Conditions were interesting on the outward leg, suffice to say that there is nowhere to hide from that salt water spray, even if you are wearing RNLI standard dry suits. Once we had landed, disembarked, stripped off, bought cups of tea, established a beach head and eaten our picnic lunch, we recovered ourselves sufficiently to note that all our eye brows were indeed encrusted with salt. Given our junior audience on the day, since we stole Caroline’s daughters for the trip, I award me a bronze star for not swearing when the entire rack of waterproof clothing fell on top of me, no damage done, and likewise a silver star to Paul who could have been forgiven for being similarly aggrieved when a passing Arctic tern defecated on his sandwich.
Diana led us round the best sights of the island, and our expectations were rewarded, with impressive bird sightings and evidence of lives lived in fairly inhospitable but beautiful surroundings, and some surreal ironwork. Tally for the day: grey seal, guillemot, razorbill, Arctic tern, fulmar, kittiwake, eider duck and of course puffin.
The terns had just started to lay and were beginning to get aggressive, hats and brollies now required if you plan to visit anytime soon.
The journey home was still a bit wet but the light on the Forth was spectacular. I wasn’t risking my camera when I needed both hands to hold on, so you will just have to remind yourself of one of those days when slate grey skies have schisms which allow the golden light to bounce off the water, showcasing the Fife cottages with their white walls and orangey red pantile roofs. Those tiles were just ballast brought back from the Low Countries, you know. A happy accident from our trading heritage.
So our fast wee skiff put us at the head of the queue for the Famous Anstruther Chip Shop, then we hied round to Diana’s house, there to enjoy a splendid repast and a blether.
And today we get to wash all our clothes.
