This is just to prove that when we get good weather in Dalamory, we really do get good weather. Indeed Argyll – mountain, glen, loch and seashore becomes a magical place. It is only a week since we came back home after a 6-day break in the pretty Border village of Newcastleton. We used to live there back in the 1980’s. Our sons went to school and uni and for six years we enjoyed the slower pace of a village that has a mind of its own.
The photos on the link above are much better than any of the ones I tried taking; my excuse is that the weather was a bit iffy though it didn’t spoil our enjoyment. It was our first proper foray into Holiday-Cottage-Land and we had a great time, (so did Misty.) There was also a family garden-party to attend, so we met lots of friends and relatives.
It all set me off thinking about family folklore and stories from those days. One of those tales was the subject of some hilarity with Son #3 recently, so it is worth the retelling. Will I say which son was involved in servicing his bicycle with a car foot pump? Of course I will, it was indeed #3 himself. He was about 8 years old at the time and no doubt thought it would be a good wheeze to acquire Father’s foot-pump from the car or maybe garage, to lessen the work of pumping up his bike tyres. He leaned the bicycle up against a tree in the village square right outside the house. Grandma and Mother happened to be looking out of the window and were watching proceedings with interest. He fiddled about a bit and managed to connect pump and tyre with relatively little bother. Then, he proceeded to pump his foot vigorously up and down with a look of intense concentration on his face. I can see him now in my memory – what a pity there were no handy mobile phones then.
Suddenly, there was an almighty BANG . . . . . . . . . Said Son leapt in the are and then ran away, looking extremely frightened. Eventually, when he realised he had not blown up the village he wandered back sheepishly. Mother and Gran collapsed in giggles. Of course the best bit was that he had no idea he was being watched.
These are the kinds of tales that have to be included in the Memoirs. Now I simply have to get on with the task of somehow setting them in context. I’ve not settled recently to any serious Writing, we have been far too busy. I know, I know, I have to make the time or the days will slip away. I actually enjoy sitting at the computer sharing stories, thoughts and dreams, so I do believe it will happen. If I’m spared and well as my own Granny would often say.
It is good to have lots to keep body, mind and spirit occupied.
Blessings on you and all your activities. By the way, has anyone got any good memoirs stories to share?