Crail

Crail.

Photos delayed, but here at last. I never gave much time to reflect on our annual pilgrimage to the wee fishing village on Fife’s East Neuk. Truth be told, there’s not a whole lot to comment upon.

The routine goes something like this: Wake up late, eat, watch Jeremy Kyle, go to the shops, make dinner, watch more rubbish TV whilst getting drunk, head to the beach with wine and guitars.

Repeat until the allotted time period is used up.

Apparently whilst talking to some couple about having a barbequeue on the beach, Haigie was greeted with an indignant remark about how we “better have cleaned up after ourselves.”

Wisdom of bringing up the topic with strangers aside, it made me wish I had been there at the time to respond in person. What sort of ridiculous and ignorant attitude is it that allows middle class, supposedly adult villagers to resort to churlish comments about anybody under the age of 35 engaging in any sort of social activity in a public place?

Young people? Eating?! They must be causing trouble.”

Apparently nature is only to be enjoyed by walking through it; never stopping or engaging… because it is impossible to do the latter without having the compulsion to destroy it and throw bottles and packets and burger remnants everywhere. It’s to do with some youthful DNA I believe.

Load of pish.

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