Today, Friday, looked as if it was going to become a perfect day of new and revived experiences. Although I had stayed up late, I awoke early and felt relaxed and refreshed, sitting before a large window looking at the changing landscape as clouds assembled to hide the sun, turning to lashing rain, and then to a brightness sufficient for the owners of the site to start a bonfire.
The situation reminded me of my first experience forty years before when in my first year as a professional child care officer I had been invited to stay at the lake district home of a friend and spent the early morning and part of the evening watching the effects of clouds and changing light upon the water and the hills beyond. Some landscape painters and photographers, poets and gifted writers of prose are able to capture something more than their experience of the moment but nature has never surrendered to me as it has to them. I have a continuous debate about the extent to which anyone should attempt to master the material world, without contributing something of equal measure in return. When individually and collectively we abuse and exploit nature we should not be surprised when nature finds a way of punishing us back.
The weather appeared to settle although the forecast suggested showers, with some heavy, but the inclination was to go out to explore the reality of memory, despite a programme of work requiring attention. I could attempt to make up the latter, but might not have the opportunity to revisit all the places where previous experience merited review. The plan was to head north along to Crief, Aberfeldy, and Loch Tay.
The route to Crief was an unexpected glorious surprise with rhododendrons giving way to long banks of yellow gorse as I entered one of the beautiful glens of Scotland which opened up to a vast panorama of distant hills. Because I frequently stopped to view and digest the wonder, it was almost lunchtime time before arriving at Crief and I found a car park after motoring through the town centre when I eat a prepared salad, a buttered roll and the cream apple turnover left over from yesterday.
I was able to recall previously passing through Crief, but not having stopped, and full of the pleasure of the journey so far, I decided to walk the town and then return repeating my morning journey in reverse, and without travelling north as planned. It is often the situation that having found a good base, explorations are made far and wide without properly finding out what is on one's doorstep. Crief offers several fine restaurants and one using a converted bank had recently offered a night of five courses with appropriately selected wines for £40 a head. The second virtue of note is Gordon and Durward who from 1925 have made sweets on the premises, tablets, Fudge, Macaroon, Snowballs and Sugar Mice. What attracted me were the banks of traditional glass jars filled with a colourful assortment of hard boiled soft centred memories of childhood from chocolate limes and pear drops, to those with liquorice centres and sherbet. A few doors away was one of two stores selling the range of pure Scottish single malts and I decided on a selection of miniatures and one full bottle of 12 year old Glenlivet presented in a leather feel box. It was soon time for a mug of coffee and tea cake and an overheard conversation about the reduction in visitors over recent years and lack of optimism for the coming season with the summer half term holiday of the English next week.
I then stopped at a factory outlet for Scottish and Irish glass and found an attractive Waterford Swan, and purchased a pair together with a rose paperweight. As these were to be gifts I removed the prices and code marks on return, and then in horror found that the seahorse stamp of excellence was missing from the swans although in it what appeared to be original boxes and marked Waterford. They are perhaps seconds rather than fakes but were not marked as such.
I should have been aware that the day had gone too well by what happened on the return journey although having missed the unction turn at a crucial point; the subsequent detour enabled me to pass by the Gleneagles Hotel, golf and activity centre which I had often seen on TV and wondered where it was located. Now I know, but the journey through the valley was a disappointment because vehicles insisted on driving up to my bumper forcing me to drive at their pace and without opportunity to pull to one side.
Fortunately the required early departure means that I can return the glassware and seek an explanation. There is a bonus because although I purchased two lots of five 100 gram selections of the sweets they do not fill the glass display jars purchased to create delight for any recipient, so it is an ill wind. However it could have been a perfect day. It then became worse. What did I say about nature retaliating when we do not make appropriate tribute for its gifts to us?
I returned the following morning to factory glassware shop at Crief and obtained a reluctant refund although the assistant could offer no explanation for the lack of official marking and denied that Waterford issued seconds. I will not let the matter rest and will contact the company and the appropriate Scottish authorities. It was necessary to buy a similar quantity of hard boiled sweets as yesterday in order to fill the jars, but it did result in some for me.
The journey homeward was horrendous although it was my fault. If I had thought more carefully I would have travelled west from Crief to Stirling for the motorway to Edinburgh and missing the two main bridge routes. Instead in a moment of forgetfulness I went east to join the Forth bridge motorway route forgetting the delays of the weekend and that this was a bank holiday. At the last moment I headed west again towards Kincardine thus avoiding a two hour wait. However at Kincardine the queues built up to that after half an hour of crawl I turned back and headed up towards Stirling. It was five before reaching Shields and visiting my mother, and then getting back and unpacking, sorting the post and beginning to catch up on communications. But I had the images of my near perfect day.
The situation reminded me of my first experience forty years before when in my first year as a professional child care officer I had been invited to stay at the lake district home of a friend and spent the early morning and part of the evening watching the effects of clouds and changing light upon the water and the hills beyond. Some landscape painters and photographers, poets and gifted writers of prose are able to capture something more than their experience of the moment but nature has never surrendered to me as it has to them. I have a continuous debate about the extent to which anyone should attempt to master the material world, without contributing something of equal measure in return. When individually and collectively we abuse and exploit nature we should not be surprised when nature finds a way of punishing us back.
The weather appeared to settle although the forecast suggested showers, with some heavy, but the inclination was to go out to explore the reality of memory, despite a programme of work requiring attention. I could attempt to make up the latter, but might not have the opportunity to revisit all the places where previous experience merited review. The plan was to head north along to Crief, Aberfeldy, and Loch Tay.
The route to Crief was an unexpected glorious surprise with rhododendrons giving way to long banks of yellow gorse as I entered one of the beautiful glens of Scotland which opened up to a vast panorama of distant hills. Because I frequently stopped to view and digest the wonder, it was almost lunchtime time before arriving at Crief and I found a car park after motoring through the town centre when I eat a prepared salad, a buttered roll and the cream apple turnover left over from yesterday.
I was able to recall previously passing through Crief, but not having stopped, and full of the pleasure of the journey so far, I decided to walk the town and then return repeating my morning journey in reverse, and without travelling north as planned. It is often the situation that having found a good base, explorations are made far and wide without properly finding out what is on one's doorstep. Crief offers several fine restaurants and one using a converted bank had recently offered a night of five courses with appropriately selected wines for £40 a head. The second virtue of note is Gordon and Durward who from 1925 have made sweets on the premises, tablets, Fudge, Macaroon, Snowballs and Sugar Mice. What attracted me were the banks of traditional glass jars filled with a colourful assortment of hard boiled soft centred memories of childhood from chocolate limes and pear drops, to those with liquorice centres and sherbet. A few doors away was one of two stores selling the range of pure Scottish single malts and I decided on a selection of miniatures and one full bottle of 12 year old Glenlivet presented in a leather feel box. It was soon time for a mug of coffee and tea cake and an overheard conversation about the reduction in visitors over recent years and lack of optimism for the coming season with the summer half term holiday of the English next week.
I then stopped at a factory outlet for Scottish and Irish glass and found an attractive Waterford Swan, and purchased a pair together with a rose paperweight. As these were to be gifts I removed the prices and code marks on return, and then in horror found that the seahorse stamp of excellence was missing from the swans although in it what appeared to be original boxes and marked Waterford. They are perhaps seconds rather than fakes but were not marked as such.
I should have been aware that the day had gone too well by what happened on the return journey although having missed the unction turn at a crucial point; the subsequent detour enabled me to pass by the Gleneagles Hotel, golf and activity centre which I had often seen on TV and wondered where it was located. Now I know, but the journey through the valley was a disappointment because vehicles insisted on driving up to my bumper forcing me to drive at their pace and without opportunity to pull to one side.
Fortunately the required early departure means that I can return the glassware and seek an explanation. There is a bonus because although I purchased two lots of five 100 gram selections of the sweets they do not fill the glass display jars purchased to create delight for any recipient, so it is an ill wind. However it could have been a perfect day. It then became worse. What did I say about nature retaliating when we do not make appropriate tribute for its gifts to us?
I returned the following morning to factory glassware shop at Crief and obtained a reluctant refund although the assistant could offer no explanation for the lack of official marking and denied that Waterford issued seconds. I will not let the matter rest and will contact the company and the appropriate Scottish authorities. It was necessary to buy a similar quantity of hard boiled sweets as yesterday in order to fill the jars, but it did result in some for me.
The journey homeward was horrendous although it was my fault. If I had thought more carefully I would have travelled west from Crief to Stirling for the motorway to Edinburgh and missing the two main bridge routes. Instead in a moment of forgetfulness I went east to join the Forth bridge motorway route forgetting the delays of the weekend and that this was a bank holiday. At the last moment I headed west again towards Kincardine thus avoiding a two hour wait. However at Kincardine the queues built up to that after half an hour of crawl I turned back and headed up towards Stirling. It was five before reaching Shields and visiting my mother, and then getting back and unpacking, sorting the post and beginning to catch up on communications. But I had the images of my near perfect day.
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