Wobbly lines

Pittenweem.

Anstruther.

Another day spent in the East Neuk of Fife working, wandering and slurping coffee. Work was slow so I stopped off to visit my father's grave. Not a thing I do very often, I've not been there for a few years. It was Saturday the 10th so I spent a few solemn  moments standing at the spot reflecting on his and his generation's sacrifice in WW2. Moments like these help to put things into perspective. It also opened up a kind of memory valve whereby my childhood exploits and the (many) deceased members of my family were also remembered. Strange little funny stories, minor scandals, family disputes and me, standing here on a blustery November day thumbing through those back pages. I've forgotten so much, the trivia, the trauma and the toffee apples. Faces and voices that are now hard to picture and hear, funny how the evidence decays away. My emotions remained firmly in check however, the subject matter, now viewed backwards over 60 odd years seemed maybe less significant. The tone is duller, time's filter is pretty effective.  Important though it all was it's all a very long time ago and everything has moved on, so I might as well too.

Wobbly lines.