daytripping
Yesterday the ladies of the mad posse ventured out on a daytrip out of the city, into the wilds of Scotland's east coast and into the heart of seaside North Berwick. There we indulged in all the pleasures that a seaside town can offer: queues for the grotty public toilets, a pub lunch, a treat of ice cream, and a walk down to the beach in true Scottish pissing-it-down weather, accompanied by a soundtrack of creepy calliope music which floated out from the nearby arcade. Altogether it was a fine day out.
In particular let's take a moment to reflect on the downpour that met us on the beach. It had been clear skies up to that point, but as soon as we laid out our picnic rug and settled ourselves down to enjoy the view, the raindrops started. Cold rain, blustery gusts of chilly water pouring itself down onto us and seeping deep into our clothing until we were truly sodden. Eventually we capitulated. And obviously, as soon as we'd made our way from the sand back onto the pavement, the rain stopped and the sun came out.
Somehow this seemed to me to be just right: an apt metaphor by which to live when one juggles the onus of madness in one's life. Life can be a lovely trip, full of goodness and pleasure and companionship, but still there is the blight of a rain spell on the beach. Things get cold and wet in one's mind, and profoundly uncomfortable, while the spooky calliope music becomes an earworm that won't let go. Still: one gets through the spell and finds refuge where one may. In our case, we landed up in another pub. Bedraggled and damp, we managed to cobble together a fitting end to our day – with toasts to the others in the posse who were absent from the day's adventures.
Here’s a selection of photos from our day out: