"...boat-trips on the often cold, but always-picturesque River Forth..."

This weekend we have plans to visit Blackness Boat Club for their Open Day. Once again, we will hope for good weather, pack the picnic basket with goodies and head off towards the coast.

There will be a barbecue as always, there will be drink (both alcoholic and soft) and there will entertainment for all the family. I believe the younger attendees have a ‘bouncy-castle’ amongst other things to keep them occupied.

There will also be boat-trips on the often cold, but always-picturesque River Forth for those whose heart is filled with adventure, or who just want to be thrown about in a small craft and possibly hit by flailing mast and some canvas sheeting. If it’s anything to do with my neighbour two doors up who is a member of the boat club, I will probably be one of the ones hit by the aforementioned items. We do get on well, but he likes the idea of me turning green whilst bobbing about in the open sea.

At some point next week, I will write it up, if I am able.

The weekend after that, my friend Alan and I are planning a series of small but scenic walks through one of the local country parks. There are about six lovely trails through greenery and past a small loch; there is also a nice hill climb that gives you a great view of the landscape for miles around.

Once again the walking boots will have to be looked out, the double sock layer put into effect (double socks usually prevent chaffing and blisters) and the small rucksack filled with a couple of fresh bread rolls, a flask of tea, bottles of water, nut based chocolate bars (chocolate provides energy and nuts provide protein) and some wet-wipes. Wet-wipes are so useful for so many things. I won’t go into detail but I’m sure you can use your imagination.

Anyway, if I get around to it, I will type it up. Until then I bid you goodbye.

Blackness Castle is often referred to as ‘the ship that never sailed’.

Last week and a bit of this week, we had summer. It was nice and I hope we have another one next year too.

The main part of the summer took place from Friday 1^st July to Monday 4^th July. Each one of these days was start to finish heat and sunshine.

Rather than waste the opportunity my wife and I packed a picnic yes, a real one in a wicker basket with cold meat and tomato bread rolls, potato crisps, thermos flasks of tea and lashing of soft drinks. We put a couple of folding chairs into the back of the car, collected my mother-in-law and sister-in-law and headed a mere 5 miles from home to the little village of Blackness.

Now don’t get me wrong, if our town had a decent beach we would have stayed here, we are after all on the same coast line, but it doesn’t have a beach, so we had to travel a little further.

Blackness is a small village. It has a small population. It has a school with a very small number of pupils. It has post office and an inn for the weary traveller to rest their head, but it also has a rather nice beach. It also has a very friendly feel about it.

When we arrived, we had two options about where to park. We chose the usual one (we have been here several times before). This particular place is close to the low wall that borders the narrow grass and sand, nor far from the stone jetty. The sand isn’t brilliant, but it gives you the chance to enjoy the cool, salty waters of the River Forth.

When the tide is low, the humps of the salt marches become visible. Harbour milkwort and sea arrow grass cover a lot of this area. Across the rocks, there is a green tinge to the mud flats. This is known as eelgrass. It looks green and it’s slimy, like an eel.

We unloaded the car, admired the view and began walking the five-minute journey (my mother-in-law and sister-in-law do not sprint under any circumstances) to one of the nicest examples of 15^th, 16^th and 17^th century architecture in this area. The castle juts out into the River Forth, like the prow of a ship on a base of basalt rock. Blackness Castle is often referred to as ‘the ship that never sailed’. The ‘nose’ or ‘ness’  of the basalt rock also gave it it’s name.

We headed towards a large expanse of grass area where wooden tables are set out for the public to enjoy a sit down and a meal. We opened our wicker basket, removed the cold meat and tomato bread rolls and began to eat. The potato crisps were passed around, and the thermos flasks of tea and lashing of soft drinks were consumed. After this, we sat in the sun listening to nature and other families going about their business.

We sat for a few hours. I wandered about and took some photos as my mother-in-law, sister-in-law wife and wife rested in the heat and then the shade. Rather than take up space the used the folding chairs.

As the day began to cool, we decided it was time to pack up and go. We knew that if the weather stayed like this we would return. During that weekend, we also watched the Blackness Boat Club small boat regatta where barbequed sausages, burgers, and bottles of beer were the order of the day.

The weather has not been that great since then, but when the weather improves, we shall return.

“a local village, for local people”.

Recently I have been having some odd dreams. Maybe I should stop watching some very odd, dark but brilliant comedies.  Maybe I should stop listening to or reading the works of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. 

But then again... maybe not. Here is an example of what I have been dreaming... in the style of Dr John H Watson.

"It was in the summer of eighteen hundred and ninety-five, that I once again visited my good friend Mr Sherlock Holmes. It had been some time since my last visit, but I had read of Holmes exploits in a number of newspapers.

My practice had kept me busy and I took this lull in my affairs to drop in on my friend and enjoy some pleasant conversation and in the hope that Mrs Hudson had been preparing some of her wonderful scones.

As we sat and chatted about the events of my friends recent cases, I began to note everything down in a small book to turn them into more adventures for the readers of The Strand Magazine. Such tales as “The Adventure of the Female Bridegroom” and the “The Adventure of the Wandering Cow” would, I know enthral the readers, but in the middle of “The Adventure of the Reluctant Danish Traveller”, the ringing of the doorbell interrupted us. A few moments later, a ponderous step ascended and the door opened to reveal Mr Mycroft Holmes.

To some in Whitehall Mycroft Holmes merely worked for the government, but those who were knowledgeable he was the government.

Mycroft’s did not leave his office very often, so this particular visit must be one of extreme importance. His task for his brother was to visit the tiny hamlet of Royston Vasey and investigate the disappearance of travellers to those parts.

The next morning we boarded the train from St Pancras Station, to begin our journey. As we reclined in the carriage, I was able to complete some of my notes on “The Adventure of the Reluctant Danish Traveller”. I would occasionally extract from Holmes some piece of the story that I did not understand, and in this way, the journey passed amiably.

As we sat and watched the empty blue sky and the brilliant sunshine that bathed the countryside, it seemed to darken as we approached what our Bradshaw described as Royston Vasey Halt, a note below the name of the station described it as “a local village, for local people”.

I had a feeling that with the weather turning against us, the location of the village far from civilisation and this last piece of information, things did not bode well…"

If the weather is good, we will pack the picnic ‘basket’ with goodies...

On any given Sunday, my wife and I usually go to my dads for a bit of chat and some Sunday dinner, but this Sunday will be different. My dad and my sister will be heading out to Spain for a few weeks, so we will be at a bit of a loose end. However, I have a plan.

Whenever I say, “I have a plan!” my wife usually rolls her eyes and says “Go on then, tell me.” Whilst preparing to shoot it down in flames. My plan is that we go and see the sailing regatta in the village about 5 miles from where we live and have a picnic. I am also suggesting that we take my mother-in-law, as she does not get out much.

If the weather is good, we will pack the picnic ‘basket’ with goodies and fill a couple of thermos flasks with hot, sweet tea.

The sailing regatta begins about 4pm, so my plan is… (I can see rolling of eyes) my plan is that we should get there about 1pm, have some lunch, enjoy the view, maybe walk to the local castle which as a few hundred yards away and then sit and wait for the sailing to begin. If the weather is going to be anything like what we have had recently it should be a great day.

The other night my wife and I drove to the boat club holding the regatta just because it seemed like a good idea at the time. We sat watching the long grass that bordered the sand and shingle beach, weave and almost dance in the warm gentle breeze that came of the water. The leaves in the trees nearby hissed as the air passed through them and the seabirds circled overhead, sometimes landing on the damp sand to feed or to rest.

Out on the water about a dozen small sailboats bobbed in a low tide, their ropes slapping against their masts. A yellow glow settled on the undulating River Forth as the sun shone below sparse white cloud that drifted across the sky.

Now if the weather is going to be anything like that on Sunday, we should be more than content.