I'm not getting any prizes for blogger of the year this year, am I? However, where's the point in criticising? I'm here now aren't I? If you go on and on you'll only put me off.
So this one weekend, Peter left me to my own devices for some reason. Why would that have been? Oh yes, he was off up into darkest Fife to chum Nicola Duncan for the last stretch of her 117 mile run of the Fife Coastal Path. She did it in under 24 hours (about 23 and a half I think). She did it to try to raise cash for an adapted bike for her friend Kat who got a spinal injury in a mountain-bike accident last year.
She has nearly made her target thanks to lots and lots of generous donations. Just in case you happen to be a millionaire and you're reading this you can donate here. Actually, if you're a millionaire and you're reading this, could I please have some money too. Peter is expensive to run.
So ANYWAY I decided to try to go a longer run. I'm sure I've been on about this already, but I'm frustrated by my seeming inability to run long any more. I keep trying. An objective source (Peter) says anything over 10 miles and steer clear because it's dangerous to talk to me. My internal experience is somewhere about 10 miles my feet and ankles start really protesting and then the run's a right dud from then on. My strategy so far to tackle this is to keep trying over and over again. So Saturday 5th September, while Peter was in Fife, there was a strong west wind but it was sunny and I decided to try to ride the elements and run down the coast as far as seemed wise. I really wanted to run to North Berwick, like I used to do in the good old days, but I was staying flexible with my goals.
Porty looked really inviting from a distance but then the Prom was hoaching, as usual. The encroachment of people in my space increased my speed and decreased my tolerance.
Coming into Musselburgh, a Peacock came and said hello, looking for Peter.
Just before the Pans it was all still going well.
By Longniddry and 13 miles or so I was back in the land of ankle and foot aches. I ran past initially, thinking to soldier on, but then changed my mind. If I can only run sore and cranky, I don't even want to. I called it a day and hurpled up to Longniddry Station where the train for Edinburgh arrived in just 2 minutes.
Peter arrived home that night at about midnight full of delight at the adventure he'd had with Nicola et al. He'd run about 37 miles, so we were both tired the next day. We headed out Gullane way for an easy recovery run. On our way there we passed the Sunflower field just off one of the back roads to Gullane. Some farmer had planted a good margin of Sunflowers at the edge of his field and they were all coming into bloom. We kept seeing it and remarking on it but the road is narrow and there's nowhere that obvious to stop and park. Today we decided to make the effort and find somewhere to park and go and scope the field on foot. As we walked towards the field a lady came over from Lufness farm and said that the farmer had said that anyone who wanted could have 6 sunflowers to take away. Planting the sunflowers seems to have been a good-natured effort to help the local wild-life. We didn't take any flowers, knowing that they'd probably die in the flat without us even noticing, but we did get in amongst the flowers and spent ages taking pictures.
That was really the highlight of the day, although we had a nice run around the shore afterwards.
A couple of days later, it was nice weather again, and we both had the day off work, so we headed back to East Lothian. Peter had been hankering to go to Saltoun Big Wood and had brought his bike with him so he could cycle up there after we'd been for a run.
The weather forecast said the sun was going to come out later in the day, and he was anticipating seeing dragonflies. The run round the shore was nice, though uneventful. I think we were both still a bit tired from the weekend. I had thought that I didn't want to spend my day scratching around after insects in the undergrowth and so was planning to drive back to Edinburgh while Peter headed off to the woods himself, but after my run I didn't feel like there was anything in particular to hurry back for, so we went to the woods in the Berlingo.
Oak apples?
The woods were almost immediately appealing. There was plenty of autumnal stuff starting to happen. We went to the first big pond looking for dragonflies. There were some damsel flies but that was it, so we went on to the top pond, where we saw some tiny newts. Just around about there I saw a flash of orange butterfly which we reckoned was likely to have been a Comma. This led to us going deeper into the woods in search of Commas.
We didn't really have all that much hope but we turned a corner, up a grassy path and then....Well there were heaps of Commas, and Speckled Woods and Tortoiseshells and Peacocks and some Red Admirals. I just had my small waterproof camera and did very badly at getting pictures of Commas given the sheer numbers they were out in. It was an absorbing hour or two though.
On the way out Peter ran ahead to the bottom pond, knowing I was running out of patience for standing around being bitten by insects. In the meantime I saw this small copper and stored it up in my camera to make him jealous.
At the bottom pond, when we first arrived, a man had arrived shortly after, festooned with cameras and binoculars. He and Peter had a brief exchange of dragonfly banter. When we arrived back he was still there and he and Peter fell to talking. Well actually they took turns at monopolizing the conversation. This chap was a twitcher but the long Covid summer had turned him on to the delights of dragonflies and he had found himself driving across Scotland to fill his cravings.
I got the feeling it could have gone on indefinitely. Eventually I had to break up the party.
