Yesterday, after I wrote the blog, I went and ate in the breakfast room of my B&B. I spoke to the proprietor, told her of my intention to go to the Dysart Chruch, she pointed to it and welcomed me to go upstairs to the tea room to write. There is a beautiful view of the North Sea from the windows there. So I climbed the stairs with my arthritic knees and when I got there I wrote an email to my cousins. Here is an excerpt from that correspondence.
“My heart is so full but as usual nothing is perfect. I am at a B&B in Dysart. It is around the corner from the Dysart Church, I will attend services in about an hour. The church is the one that Uncle Dave attended, we know as the hymnal rewards him for his attendance. How not perfect? I forgot the hymnal in London and at the moment I am up in the tea room overlooking the North Sea and it is asking for the password for the wifi and I do not have it with me. This will be sent as a pdf.
My life is so bizarre as you can tell from the last two days of posts. But there are stories that do not get told on the blog. You will be thankful to know that. I do get Pat’s permission to blog her funny, funny comments. Today’s blog discusses moving Aunt Eunice, her idea, not mine. But I did warm to the occasion as you can readily see.
The owner of the B&B is Chinese – English is not her first language. But, when she heard I was going to church, she gave me a Christian calendar and a bible. I casually looked at the biblical index and was attracted to Proverbs 31:2. The Wife of Noble Character. I read it – you read it. It is way too much work being that wife. It makes me real glad I am single. She is planting vineyards, getting out of bed when it is still dark. making coverings, she does not eat the bread of idleness, weaves, doesn’t let the lamp go out at night. You can have it.
Who needs marriage, this is what I have. Last Night I ate at the Royal Hotel just around the corner. . A man came and sat at my table. He was, of course young and seemed to express an interest in me. He left, probably to go to the loo. While he is gone, two of the waitresses, grab me, spirit me off and walked me home. They were afraid that the guy is going to spirit me off, I guess. I laugh and enjoy their company and tell them the truth – that I am 73. Believe me, there was no reason for them to intervene. I am through with men. I am having way too much fun to be tied down to some guy. Thank you very much.
If you read the blog you will learn that I will be seeing Jock Dryburgh at 2 – after church. The one thing you can say about him is that he is at least age appropriate (84). You know his significance if you read the blog. Well, it would be one way to get Dryburgh back as a surname. His wife died two or three months ago. He does have a sense of humor.
When Gail and I were here we quite disliked Kirkcaldy. Now I rather love it. I am filled with relief. I thought that London had everything to offer but here I am in West Wemyss, population 260 and quite happy. PHEW!!
As some of you know, this has been such hard work, this Uncle Dave thing. I have often despaired but it is paying off. He is happy, I am happy, I am coming home. All is well. I do the Dryburgh girl thing. I weep. Alexis”
After completing this email I walked down the myriad of stairs to my room, I tripped and my computer spiraled down the stairs. I screamed, not in pain, but in horror. Everyone rushed to aid me. I picked up the computer shakily and tried to turn it on. What would I do without my computer? It is my all, it is my everything, it is my life. I did start to cry in panic, I do admit.that It was one of those moments that I wished there was a guy around who could give me a hug, calm me down and tell me everything is ok. There is no such person in my life. The computer booted. All was well.
So I picked myself up, dusted myself off and went to the Church of Scotland Dysart St. Clair. There are the McIntosh murals in the church, some lovely stained glass windows and I love singing the hymns that are familiar from childhood. But it was a strange experience. Unlike West Wemyss the congregation was not accepting, they were insular and despite admonitions in the sermon were not at all gentle and loving. It is a time of transition and they are not doing well. I had a lovely conversation with one man over coffee but that was all. .
Then off for another adventure. I caught the bus to West Wemyss thinking I would find my pal Jock Dryburgh. It was a false rumor, he was not there. But I found out more about him. He is a singer of some renown, he plays golf and he is a painter. His art is on the walls of the Suburban Kitchen where I had another wonderful meal. Next to the Heritage Center where I chatted away learning more history of the area. Then to the pub where I had a great time talking with volunteer bar tender Chris about the importance of living by the sea. He lives in West Wemyss in a home that was once his parents. I have never lived by the sea but I want to some day. Somebody was so funny, they said I should come and live in West Wemyss, that way I would save on postage when they ship my ashes back to be with my great grandfather. Well, not me, my estate would save on postage. It is not a bad idea. I may look into it after the book is done and the voyage across Canada completed.
Back to London today. I am not looking forward to London and all the tasks that must be completed before I take my leave.
Jock Dryburgh’s art is pictured below.
