Bank Holiday At The Beach

Ah, if only this were in focus....

The people in the background remind me of a phrase by Ivor Cutler - "Hugging the wall to escape the worst of the effects of the fresh air"

Bonus - Found It

"Life in a scotch sitting room vol.2 ep.11

The sky grew black and white
The wind blew under the door
"Let us go for a walk" said Father
We rose slowly from our positions towards the door
The door locked tight we set off in a straggly line
Hugging the wall to escape the worst of the effects of the fresh air

When we left the street and were in the country
Father became instructive
"There is a thistle" he would cry into the wind
pointing a pale finger and we would look
Then further along " There is another thistle" again pointing
There were lots of thistles in Scotland
We were soon well acquainted with them.

Mother was also informative
"look a patch of grass" and we dutifully twisted our heads then hugged the dry stone dyke to escape the worst of the effects of the fresh air

Sometimes a big man would pass astride a donkey packed with turnips
We would ponder
Father would enlighten us
" He will sell the turnips to a shop"

When we came to a field my parents would sit back to back at a tree and order us to play
Our best game was finding a rabbit hole and pushing our foot down, turning a right angle…then trying to pull it up with the brogue still on.
An incensed rabbit would often carry a brogue off to it's nest ---- and an incensed father would have to squirm through the warren to retrieve it. But he had played the same game when he was a lad and could scarcely blame us for following in his footsteps.

The other game was battering one another over the head with a thistle while shaking hands.

When mother called we ran up tore a chunk off a square loaf scooped it deep into margarine then ran off to a secure place…

After Tea father played the pipes and we danced reels on the dyke. Often we slipped and gashed our thighs – quite badly. But nobody cared in those days… It was all part of going for a walk.

We went home in a line Father pointing out objects of interest as we passed like " Look - A tree"
And if he knew he would tell us the name.

Home we returned to our positions while Father snored with his head on the table. And mother mixed porridge.
We listened to the wind and winked and smiled
Absent-mindedly rubbing spittle on our cuts.
"