Storm.

The morning was windless and had a rather mugginess about it, my mood was about as lethargic as the weather. Although my cadence was steady the bicycle wheels turned at a snail’s pace, leisure cycling personified. The campsite at Knock Hill was doing good business, its play park and swings rejoiced in the voices of happy children. Normally, when I crest the top I move quickly up through the gears and onto the big front ring and drive all the way down the steep bank as far as the bridge over the Eden, today is freewheeled my way to the bottom. It was just one of those days when you have all the time in the world, which I did or at least all the time I still have in this world. At Pitscottie I climbed out and dropped down into Cupar, there I visited Lidl and purchase, two Scottish rolls and a bag of salted peanuts. I sat my back against the wall and my face in the warm sunshine, munching nuts and before I moved on a long draught from my water bottle. I was soon shaken from my daydreaming as I moved into the fast-moving traffic of the ‘A’ road, and the long climb for Dairsie. I looks nothing much of a hill but for some reason, it takes a bit of effort to get you out of Cupar, more so when facing a strong easterly.

In the early part of the ride I had been going over in my mind the book ‘Women of the War Years’ not much cop really. Written in a very patriotic, jolly hockey stick manner, it was much more a list of the jobs that women did, during the war years, but as if the girl that wrote it had not bothered to interview or research anyone who had actually lived through that period in history.

How did women feel about ‘doing a man’s job?’ had it changed society forever when the war was over? How did women feel about reverting to the good housewife once more? (if that even happened) for me, it did not.

Once women were making good money, (their own money) free from the drudgery of housework, they were never going back to the kitchen sink. Women wanted more. The late 1950s and 1960s was the time of the ‘latchkey kids. The books only saving grace was some good photographs, so I put it in our library, someone may want to take a trip down memory lane. The book originally cost someone £15.99 and going by its condition was never read, so should make a bob, or two, when it goes up for sale once more at the charity shop.

The next book I picked up was Wilbur Smith’s ‘A Sparrow Falls. I had forgotten just who great a storyteller the man is, and surprisingly, (or maybe not so surprising since it was 1978 when I first read it) I can not remember much of the storyline at all.

I have now reached the part where he meets Colonel Courtney’s daughter Storm, for the first time. I do remember this for the name Storm just fired my imagination, then as it does now. So different from traditional Scottish names, at that time. I remember thinking if ever I had a daughter I would like to call her Storm. The daft things we remember.

We have all meet, such a girl, knows how to twist daddy around her little finger, here we would call her paukie.

That’s all the wee stories for today, and since I like to add a picture, why not more bonnie flowers. This is a rose that blooms yellow, red and variegated all on the same bush.

This was one of the bushes I thought would not make it, but it survived. I would like to try and take a cutting from it and have some new healthy plants for next year. On the internet I have seen how you can do this by rooting on the growing stem – I will try that on one of its branches.

Stay safe.

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