Cleaned the house - tick (well, you know, to my standards; it wouldn't pass the white glove test)
Cleaned the car - tick (cheated by going to the car wash; it's dirty again now)
Tidied the garden - no
Walked the dog - tick! He's had a good weekend & is exhausted. Today we went to one of my favourites, Elie. En route I decided to stop off at Wemyss, to check out
some caves there I was told about. Turned out not to be a great idea. First of all, there was a giant sign by the path leading to the caves saying NO DOGS. Then there was the beach; no keep off signs, but they hardly needed them:
Yes, all this and the North Sea too! The wall is brand new, and the rocks looked brand new as well -- nice and sharp. I guess they thought red and grey would look nice together.
Very inviting, especially on a winter's afternoon. I can only assume there's some sand down there at low tide. Or maybe it's a shortcut in case you want to commit suicide.
So we pushed on to Elie, which is much nicer.
It's so bracing!
Bertie loves it at Elie. The second time we went there he jumped a fence and went frolicking around a field. I was furious and worried, but Anthea, who was with us, was doubled up with laughter -- he was pronking like a springbok, he was so delighted. It was pretty funny, in retrospect. But to get him out of the field (because of course he couldn't jump out -- what was the point?), I had to climb in and walk round the boundary looking for a gate. Couldn't find one, but eventually found a gap under the fence that was just big enough to squeeze a large, struggling greyhound through, with me pushing and Anthea pulling. He hasn't jumped the fence again.
I took a whole lot more photos but took them on my ye-olde SLR camera, with film and everything -- have to wait until I've had them developed. The film dates from before I got the digital camera, shows you how much I use the old one.
On the way back I stopped off at a charity book sale in Lundin Links and picked up a few foxed old classics, including Portrait of a Lady by Henry James and The Moonstone by Wilkie Collins. As I left I noticed a pile of old maps and travel brochures and picked out a few. They all dated from the 50s and 60s and have gorgeous graphics:
And one showed how far we've come, and why political correctness isn't a bad idea. It's a map of Lakewood, a suburb of Long Beach, California. The map was printed in 1956 by an estate agency flogging development housing, so on the back it has a checklist of "100+ reasons why you should live in beautiful Lakewood".
A lot of it sounds like stuff that would send anyone screaming in the opposite direction -- Patio Club anyone? -- but what really had my jaw dropping was this section:
So when they say "100% American" they mean 100% white. "Good Neighbours" are white neighbours. There are plenty of police to keep anyone else out. And just in case you couldn't add all that up, they drum it home with point 18: "Is Lakewood the 'White Spot' of Long Beach? Yes." Yikes. I'll have to email
the city council a copy for their archives.
I haven't been to any films or anything, probably do that tomorrow night. I've been busy clearing out various cupboards, and doing lots of little DIY jobs that have been on my "to-do" list for long enough to make it disproportionately satisfying to get them done at last.