Memory and change

We had to go shopping again this morning. I’m not good at short-term planning; it’s a week or nothing for me. I felt compelled to combine our visit to Brodick Coop with two traditional pursuits: buying rolls (not floury muffins, I’m afraid) in Wooley’s, the one shop left as I remember it in the entire village, and walking along the beach to see how it fared.

Wooley’s rolls were great. No change there. The beach? That beach in the 50s sported a long line of brightly coloured beach huts, as a result of which the beach was always busy. We called it “the loud beach” and never went there. We did, however, like to walk along the grass behind the huts, cross the “dancy bridge “ over the Cloy Burn, and walk home via the path between the golf course and the salt marshes that separated it from the beach.

When I saw it this morning it was high tide - and there was no sign of the grassy, muddy islands and inlets of my youth. There was only sea, a new strip of beach, and the boardwalk which has replaced the path I knew. The beach, meanwhile, has lost a huge lump of sand where we used to attend CSSM meetings… I’m not going to tell the backstory. You can look it up, I’m sure. It’s to do with selling sand as much as with natural erosion.

Once off my soapbox, I can tell you that in the afternoon we hiked up North Glen Sannox, down which runs the Highland Boundary Fault. On our left ran the jagged line of An Caisteal which was on our right yesterday as we walk top Glen Sannox. The burn splashed gently over pale brown and golden rocks - usually it’s much more of a torrent. There were midges, fantastic views of past climbs, and the vibrant prof the Heather. There were also four of these rocky leaps that so plagued Himself later. It was glorious.

And then we’d to return to the Coop. I’d forgotten to buy the vegetables…