News from Nowhere

In the ongoing process of sorting through the photos I took during our holiday, I've just reached one from Inverkeithing. As I was taking my camera out of its case, a police van pulled in to the kerb between me and my subject. I had to step out in front of it, concentrating on not getting run over, when a very affable young man with a heavy accent and an abundance of piercings came in very close to me and pointed out that just down the road, there, was the historic church, well worth photographing. And nearby were other cultural highlights which I no longer remember.

Anyway, that's my excuse for the interesting angle of this shot.



I didn't have the heart to tell him I was taking a picture of the heavily shuttered Chinese restaurant - I liked the contrast of the boarded-up appearance and the golden characters on the dormer windows (the shadow reducing its name to 'Happy Pal' is a fortunate accident). I hope he thought it was the historic Mercat Cross (at the right of the picture) I was after.

All the pictures of Inverkeithing

Yesterday was a longer day's walking than our first day, and involved more road work too - including a longish stretch by the main road between Burntisland and Kinghorn. The one point of interest here was the monument to Alexander III, the last Celtic king of Scotland (close to the point where he rode over the cliffs one stormy night, according to our guide book, which is full of delightful information): I would never even have guessed that a king called Alexander was Celtic. In general, there were fewer things to see all along the route, which was just as well - if we'd covered the ground as slowly as on our first day, we'd have been lucky to reach our destination by nightfall.

The day started - well, no, the day started with a visit to the Post Office and second-hand bookshop. But after that there was a steep climb up to the headland at Hawkcraig Point, with one last view back to the Forth Bridge and plenty of blackberries to quench the thirst of the climb - and then a scramble down past a couple of whate and red markers, round the sandy bay and into the woods to the loud clattering of a woodpecker. There's a petrifying spring, known as Fossil Falls, but the path is soon pinched beside the railway, with nothing to see until you emerge into the housing estate on the edge of Burntisland (which is neither burnt nor an island. The actual derivation is probably something like Burnty's Land, but they pronounce it Burnt Island to confuse the visitor).

We bought a picnic lunch mostly from Stuart's, the bakers of the best Scotch pies in the world, according to their paper bags - but by the time we read this on the wrapping of our corned beef pasty and sausage rolls, it was too late to put it to the test. Then came the long haul on the road to Kinghorn, where there is a charming little harbour and excellent public conveniences, embellished by a magnificent display of wild flowers (in October!) provided by Kinghorn in Bloom (one of whose volunteers saw me photographing them).



From here we had sea views - and the ruined Seafield Tower, until we came through another housing estate into Kircaldy. Past Raith Rovers football ground (loud chanting from within) and along the High Street to our B & B (which doesn't sound much untl you discover that the High Street is a mile long).

Today, more briefly: a bit of a struggle out of Kirkaldy on the main road, then some really fun walking thrugh the park, with views of Ravenscraig Castle. On to Dysart, which we approached via a tunnel through the shoulder of rock which shelters the harbour, so that the town with its pretty white houses comes as a complete surprise (and the café at the Harbourmaster's house serves coffee with coffee in it). Another woodland walk gives a view of West Wemyss gleaming on its headland, and a walk round the bay took us into the town.

After those highlights, it was rather a slog into Leven. And since we lunched late, at the Railway Tavern in Buckhaven, on (in my case) cheese salad and chips, we dined this evening on the homemade shortbread provided with the tea and cffee suplies at our B & B - it was delicious.

We are on the train to Edinburgh, and we have just had breakfast. durham_rambler used his ticket-buying superpower, and we are travelling first class, where you get free wi-fi and breakfast brought to your seat. I'd pictured a coffee-and-croissants kind of breakfast, but no, there is a choice of cooked dishes - and I'm not feeling grumpy (not feeling grumpy despite having my breakfast delivered in all the wrong order! must be on holiday!) so I will say only that I think they overstretch themselves, and consider instead my own experiments in breakfast materials.

- Pause while we cross the Tweed, to admire the shadow of the train moving across the shadow of the viaduct -

The curve hit bottom with the Swedish rye: not so much a loaf as a brick, if you can slice it, it makes acceptable toast - but slicing it is a challenge.

Next I made another batch of Dan Lepard's barley flatbread, with the rest of the barley granary bread mix I had bought at the market. I didn't really have enough time for this, but we were planning to be out next day (itws the day we didn't go to Lindisfarne); perhaps it might have been better with a little longer to rise - and if I hadn't been rushing, I'd have had a last look at the recipe and remembered to oil the top before I put it in the oven. As it was, it rose unevenly, and not as exuberantly as the first timeI made it, but the taste was good. The texture was if anything too knubbly. Next time, half and half, and remember that last oiling for a softer crust.

The starter spent the next six days in the fridge, and seems to have liked this time / temperature combination. I stirred in the bubbles on the top, and it was such a beautiful unctuous cream, and delicate oatmeal beige: it behaved well, too, and the dough rose willingly. It was, in theory, half white flour, a quarter buckwheat and a quarter wholemeal - but it was reluctant to absorb so much flour, and I stopped before I'd added all the wholemeal. Since I was uasing walnut oil, I added a handful each of sultanas and walnuts, made four rolls and a small loaf, and I'd call that a success.

While we are on holiday in Fife, the starter is staying with S., who had panicked and discarded her first batch (it was looking sinister...)