The clematis is blooming, the lilac is out and the gorse is a rampant sight to behold, filling the air with its coconut aroma. The only fly in the ointment is the evil East Wind. The sea is full of wild horses, and the poor garden has been scorched. Still I will not despair, it’s early days.

John and I have been out marching the East Coast Path, getting in training for this year’s challenge, a hike along the Great Glen Way from Fort William to Inverness. I have driven the route about a thousand times in the past, but according to ‘the book’, we won’t see much tarmac, we’ll be trudging up amongst the heather and gorse at incredibly high heights.

In the meantime, I continue with my studies of Shakespeare. This term it is satire in Shakespeare. I watch and read the set text of the week, see nothing, and then James reveals all on Friday. He talks for two hours and I come away amazed. How did I read a certain speech in As you Like It, and not know that it was a possible parallel to the Earl of Essex and his failed attempt to vanquish the uprising in Ireland? I thought I was learning about William himself but not so, a whole gang of his pals are being introduced: Marlow, Ben Johnston, Chapman. My head is buzzing and I come away full of good intentions, but then we walk and I am aware of bluebells, and somewhere from the past I hear our music teacher, Miss Luke, playing the piano and all our girlish voices joining in for Shakespeare’s take on spring time in Love’s Labours Lost.

When daisies pied and violets blue

And lady-smocks all silver-white

And cuckoo-buds of yellow hue

Do paint the meadows with delight,

The cuckoo then, on every tree,

Mocks married men; for thus sings he:

“Cuckoo;

Cuckoo, cuckoo!” O, word of fear,

Unpleasing to a married ear!

 My new friends in the class are a mixed bunch of very young to quite old. Betty, in her eighties, was telling me all about riding pillion on her husband’s motorbike back in 1954, and she brought in photos of them both, sweet young things chatting to lambs on the island of Skye. She said they only met about seven cars on their trip!

And Ian, a retired gynaecologist, told me about being evacuated in the war from Edinburgh. Most children were sent to North Berwick, but his mum took him and his brother to a cottage in the middle of Rannoch Moor. There she proceeded to fuss about black-out procedures. She climbed on to a chair to Sellotape black paper on the window and promptly fell and broke her wrist. They all returned to Edinburgh, and sat out the war and lived to tell the tale. Having walked on Rannoch Moor, I doubt if she needed to worry about black-out, but still.

By contrast, John had fun with the tiler who came to sort out splashbacks in the kitchen for us. He was a true Fifer and quite hard to understand. We did get that he had a cold, and he seemed to think he should go immediately to A&E. However, between grouting and having a cup of coffee, he regaled John with his holiday anecdotes of last year. Never having been abroad before, he went to visit his relatives in Canada. He went for a walk through a field. When he got back he mentioned to his uncle that there were a lot of crickets about, he’d never heard such a racket. His uncle was quite shocked. He said, ‘Did you not see the sign? It said: “Don’t go in this field, its full of rattle snakes”.’ Makes my toes curl just thinking about it! Mind you, I had that experience last year on the island of Jura when I nearly stepped on two adders.

Gerry and Cathal have moved into their new house.

We had them stay with us for the transition time and it was quite fun having Darcey here full time. She is such a ball of energy and fell and skinned her nose. I was like the proverbial blue-bottomed insect, racing about constantly trying to keep her safe from her kamikaze attempts. Gerry added to the ‘look’ by cutting her fringe so she had a Julius Caesar air about her. I gave her a duster and told her to rub off all her fingerprints from the glass and furniture. By rights she should have taken a month.

She is a delight though and John and I enjoy our Thursdays when we are ‘in charge’. Can’t believe she is 16 months already.

Down in Wales little Hazel is blooming and and Bonnie has become quite the little helper. I find I get the most response from Bonnie when I address her as Rapunzel. Her eyes light up, and she looks at me with new respect as she realises I KNOW who she really is!

‘I don’t want to get dressed, I just want to dance and feel my lovely hair on my back’ is the latest from fantasy girl! Love it.

I have been getting out the old treasures for Darcey to play with on Thursdays.

When Gerry was little she used to collect ‘little people’ and she had quite a collection. It all started back in Kota Kinabalu in 1981-83 when she had Strawberry Shortcake and her little friends, then ET. Later Smurfs came along, and different characters from shows or films. I remember she took ages choosing four from Galleries Lafayette in Paris. Oh how hard to make a selection from so many.

I wonder how much they would be worth nowadays? Of course, like the Antiques Roadshow, ‘I would never sell.’ Ha Ha.

I also found my old books, and my teddy. I wondered about being buried with my old teddy one day, my oldest and most constant companion, but how cruel for Teddy. Should he be in the dark ground with me, or lost in the rubbish of the future? My heart aches.

I used to say I would like to be buried in my first sampler quilt, there were so many squint seams, and blood spattered edgings, the only thing I thought it would be good for was a shroud!

Anyway on a less macabre note I did go to the big exhibition of knitting and sewing. As usual I was suitably impressed with other people’s amazing talents, transforming paintings into woven, knitted and sewn masterpieces.

I did manage only to buy a few pieces of fabric with the thought of making something ‘soon’! And here is John helping me to get some alpaca wool untangled.

But for now, it’s all about the walking. Trudging over the sand dunes, climbing up sheer cliff faces at Elie, and walking along perfect yellow sand by Lower Largo. I had to stop and admire someone’s idea of a garden.

My feet have been good so far. I have invested in quirky socks with toes.

They stop the rubbing and so far I have had no pain at all. Poor John has an old karate injury on his big toe which has suddenly decided to play up, making it agony to bend. So – we shall see how we go. Just hope we don’t need the emergency helicopter to rescue us, but maybe a bus on the last leg might be an option! It is apparently 31 kms. Oh dear Lord! Why do we do it?