Last Century
Long ago, my little sister and I had a holiday with our parents and grandparents in Dunoon, Scotland. Grandfather loved things mechanical, steam-driven and related to the sea, so the opportunity to sail aboard the Waverley, a paddle-driven steamship, was as close to heaven as he could get on this earth. He bought tickets lasting a week and we sailed the Clyde with him every day.
From Dunoon, the Waverley set across to Wemyss Bay for more passengers, and the adventure began. We approached the Isle of Arran, a misty blue hillock on the horizon. Gradually, it resolved into a mountain of colour, green bracken on the lower slopes, replaced by yellow gorse and then purple heather over the top backed by the blue sky. At Lochranza, groups of young people disembarked to visit the Youth Hostel. Would I ever be old enough to be considered a youth and leave for an adventure on an island? I hovered between childhood and being a youth, wanting to be considered grown-up.
We sailed on to Campbelltown and then by bus to Machrihanish, where North Atlantic rollers dashed against the rocky shore. Against the wind, the roar of the waves and sea spray like a fog on the land, we held bags of chips in our hands and felt good to be alive.
In the gloaming, we sailed the smooth obsidian-black waters of Loch Fyne with mountains on either side. We had a feeling of space and stillness on the quiet waters. Sheep grazed the hillsides, and white-washed cottages dotted the shore.
Later that year, the Scottish Nationalists removed the Stone of Scone from Westminster Abbey and took it back to Scotland.
Last Month
Seventy or more years passed, and my sister and I embarked, once more, on the Waverley but in Southampton. On a beautiful sunny day, our cruise took us to Portsmouth, Yarmouth, around the Needles to Freshwater Bay and back. [Read more…] about Pure Nostalgia
