Pictorial blethers

By blethers

Traditional pursuits

Our holiday mood was prolonged today by a visit - a pre-Father's Day visit - by our grandsons and our #1 son. This necessitated a bit of a scramble to the shops in the morning, our larder being somewhat bare, but a selection of things not usually found chez nous was soon assembled (think Scotch pies ...). I should perhaps add here that the situation was complicated by the fact that the local bakers shop and several other of the small shops in town are closed just now because of a Covid positive result in someone who works in one of the pubs; presumably a pub frequented by many involved in local retail - it was a tad dispiriting to come home to.

The chaps arrived in time for lunch - both boys had come straight from school sports/cricket practice - having left the East in a torrential downpour. Happily it was our turn to have decent weather, and we spent a couple of hours on the shore at the Ardyne doing the kind of thing the two of us never do. We sat on the warm stones and watched the boys - as in this photo - chucking half the beach at a small stick set in the sand as a target. Before that Alan had done out on a sand spit alone - you can see it towards the top left of the photo - until we noticed that the tide was coming in. A great deal of wading ensued - and neither boy would take off his shoes...

I have to say it felt wonderfully carefree just to sit watching them without feeling any need to do anything else, and later we went home to eat scones and jam and swirly cinnamon buns and apple pies out of a box and know that there was no way I could have been expected to make any of this. We ate them, crumbily and stickily, in front of the telly, watching the second half of the Portugal-Germany football - as always, it's more fun watching with company who knows something about the game...

And I remembered my mother saying exactly the same thing when #son, aged perhaps 22, came to stay and they watched a match together. Verily, I am turning into my mother.

The usual sadness ensued when it was time for them to leave, but it's great having them live where it is possible just to hop over for an afternoon. And I was distracted in the evening by the arrival of a review of Thursday's event in Stornoway ... 

Blipping the boys in mid-throw, with Bute in the distance. 

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