The story today was the wind, it was cold and it was fierce, my Achilles Heel these days will always be strong headwinds, much more so than hills, or rain, so I am grateful for all the help I can get.
I headed out to Guardbridge then Leuchars, passing through the village and onto the single-track road that will take you out as far as Tentsmuir Sands, the idea was to find shelter from the wind amongst the forest there.
I followed the green lane from the road out to Fetterdale then a forest track to Green Scalp – near Tentsmuir Point. Some of these forest tracks are in far better shape than the single-track road out from Leuchars, which makes sense since they are free of motorised traffic, used only by the Forestry commission. In the summer these tracks are well used by cyclists, however today I saw no other until back on the cycle path. My bike is not best suited for such adventures, and my balance not what it once was so gently does it.
It is very quite out here in the depth of the forest, and the smell of pine, fir and spruce intoxicating and a head clearing balm. It is not until you retrace your wheel tracks back to civilisation that you once more encounter the toxic exhaust fumes and appreciate the clean air of the forest. Not a long day, but so enjoyable.
Another dog’s tale
Having lived through two world wars and a couple of decades of depression, dad was very much a ‘make do and mend’ kind of a guy. The problem was that in today’s world of ‘throw-away’ it would often cost him more in materials to try and fix whatever it was that was broken than to buy a new one, however this did not stop him from trying.
Dad was in need of some special glue for his latest project, so he and Sandy went off up the town, down the High Street into Bridge Street and the Halford shop. Sandy sat patiently at the door, paying special attention to each and everyone that came from the shop awaiting his signal to fall in at heel behind dad.
At home dad disappeared into his shed with the glue to fix his latest project. It would have been an hour or so later that mum called him from the back door,
“Your teas on the table”
Dad came in and sat down at the kitchen table,
“Where’s Sandy?” mum asked
“Help ma Boab, I left him up the toon!” he exclaimed
Off he went hot-footing it up to Bridge Street to find Sandy still there outside Halford’s shop awaiting his return. Both man and dog pleased to see one another.
All’s well, that ends well.