The morning laundry over, I wheeled my bike out through the common area where the planning department (female residents) were in noisy conversation – they, almost in unison, questioned my sanity about venturing out on a bicycle today.
The little back road down passed the Golf Club Hotel was still closed to traffic, something to do with dismantling the footbridge, so I had to take the A91 onto the cycle track for Guardbridge. The sun burned into my back all the way before I turned off at Edenside for Strathkinness, the combine harvester must have worked long into the evening for fields that yesterday were golden wheat fields, today were long lines of cut straw that had been discarded by this massive monsters, that eat up their prey are an alarming rate.
Today I passed through clouds of small black insects; they stuck to my bare arms and damp face, where they tickled, in a most annoying manner.
Cresting the hill at Strathkinness and turning right I followed the road up and over Knock Hill and dived down into the Eden valley, pulling into the little car park at the Eden Bridge, where I parked my bike and made my way down to the water’s edge. A Willie Wagtail bobbed on the fallen tree lying in the shallow waters, flying off in his bobbing flight at my approach. The waters were low and clear as glass, and bubbling noisily over the pebbled bed of the river, whose waters, were so cool and refreshing on my arms and face, freeing me from the itching little stowaways.
Dura Den was so cool and refreshing, after being out in the heat of the morning. The road follows the little Ceres Burn, which over the centuries has cut a path down through the dell, now heavily wooded giving shade to a grateful cyclist. At the top, I burst out of the shade and into the little village of Pitscottie, which greeted me once more with burning sunlight.
I would normally turn right here onto the B939 and home, but I was feeling good today so carried on climbing on the B940 for Baldinnie and then onto Peat Inn. Just before the village I again turned right passing Drumcarrow Craig and dropping all the way down through Denhead for St Andrews.
Autumn is well and truly on its way, fields that yesterday were standing wheat now harvested. Fields that once were bright yellow oil seed rape, now rustic red and brown, they too will soon fall into the rotating blades of the combined harvester, and their tiny black seeds will then find their way to the mill.
The deep rich greens of the broad leaf trees, their colour already fading. How short, these long summer days.
I have been given my marching orders I have to vacate my home by Sunday so that the workmen can move in unhindered on Monday 26th. The letter informing me of this, starts, by telling me,
“I am delighted to inform you that the start date for the upgrade works……” Well, I’m glad you are delighted – no apology – no real communications, we get all the inconvenience and noise but Viewpoint are delighted, I’m pleased for them.
I had intended to go up to Inverness and cycle along the coast from Inverness to Fraserburgh, unfortunately, this is the week I am due to attend a three-day event in Dunfermline on Scotland’s Sovereignty making next week a very short week, indeed, too short for my planned trip, still, lots of time to come up with plan B.