It’s my own bugbear really but I hated summer holidays as a kid. I hated hearing the radio programmes going on about the wonderful time I could be having if I was enjoying the sunshine at Hyde Park/Wembley Stadium/Brighton Pavilion. I get that these are not all stadiums or concert venues but they all signify places far away from the Bonny banks of the Tay where I grew up.

Rainy summers spent in Scotland in the 70s and 80s. Jeesh I hated the six weeks of not knowing how to get in touch with friends who had not gone off to family caravans in all corners or lochsides of Scotland. My family trip never seemed to correspond to anyone else and I saw the same thing happening for the last few years to my own kids some thirty some years later.

And now like that blink of an eye, I am watching my suddenly mature kids going off on their own adventures with the Scouting family. And I am trying not to give myself an ulcer/panic attack like the one I had when Korea went wrong a couple of years ago now. (See my midsummer posts in 2023!)

We had a nice lunch to ‘celebrate’ the end of Year nine.