What would be View Over The Top Of My Book #21 if I hadn’t have forgotten my book!

Argh! The humanity!

Somewhere to sit – check. Something to drink – check. Something to eat – check. Something to read – STILL ON THE KITCHEN SURFACE 60 MILES AWAY.

Yesterday we went on a jaunt along the north coast, Banffshire, Morayshire, Pictish forts, stone circles, little villages and teashops. My daughter enjoys photography, and while she is laying on the concrete ground of a harbour trying to get a seal to smile for the camera, or climbing up a wall to get a high shot, I have my flask of tea, my book, and time to sit somewhere pretty in the fresh air, and maybe take a few snaps with my phone. To quietly read, between spells of looking up in the far distance and ruminating on our fragile human existence.

However, as I forgot my book, this meant all my quiet sitting was spent ruminating on our fragile human existence, which doesn’t always bear too much dwelling on.

This was taken at Burghead, a peninsular of a place where every (Julian) new year’s eve  they have the Burning of the Clavie. That’s a big barrel full of burning staves, which is paraded about the town before being taken up to the Pictish fort and rolled down a hill, and the scattered embers are then retrieved, as they are said to be lucky (fire can always be relied upon to add something special to celebrations). So, while it’s always a pest to find yourself without a book, there are worse places (all medical and auto mobile waiting rooms leap to mind) for it to happen.

 

Everything about this stairway made me feel old. Oh, to be young and carefree and not fear broken ankles, hips and skulls.

 

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