Carnage again on the sea – three dead seagulls floating in the water and being pecked and devoured by their relatives. The seal is bobbing about and more birds are swarming above. Otherwise everything is still, grey and very cold. I was going to venture out for a walk along the coastal path, but I don’t have the energy. I am grieving, Nick has left and with him have gone the long summer months.

When he arrived home in February he was so ill with contact dermatitis, his body covered in red itchy lumps, and his hands split and bleeding from working with cement. An allergy patch test at the hospital showed all the substances he is allergic to and of course the prime offender is cement, so that closes the door on his work as a plasterer. As the weeks have passed his health slowly has been restored. In the early spring I felt as if I was doing the school run again as I drove him to the Edinburgh Climbing Centre every day for his course on rope access.

Between the various courses that he has undertaken to launch a new career, he and I have walked along the Union Canal to Ratho beside grasses and bushes that were slowly awakening, beside the old lime kilns in Charlestown, along the coastal path and through the Dalmeny estate.

Summer days and sporadic poorly paid work. His first rope access opportunity involved a drop from a 90 metre high building in Glasgow to wash windows, swinging precariously across the glass before dropping down to the next level.

He travelled to London to do core drilling in the Watford Tunnel. He has worked on a bridge in Montrose. He finally made it on to the new Queensferry Crossing bridge where he dangled above the Firth of Forth, in his element. Not a trace of fear.

John has been constantly at his computer these last few months, first preparing and frequently updating Nick’s CV, but the days and weeks were passing and there was just not enough work to sustain him. So he has gone abroad again to seek work.

It has been a summer of re-discovery and building of relationships. He has learnt to compromise and fit in with us, and we have got used to his insomnia, and his early morning waking, often sitting on the decking from 4 a.m. watching the sea. He saw fish jumping, and heard the deep throated breathing of the seal, so it was a surprise last week when he heard a similar sound coming from close to the wall. It was too loud for the seal, so he got up for a closer look. And there it was! A huge minke whale had surfaced and was swimming in front of  the house before submerging again, but he could make out its wake for quite some time. He made a coffee, and kept watching and was rewarded when it returned an hour later. Needless to say John and I were sound asleep and missed the whole show – including two shooting stars!

I have always loved fishing, from piers and off boats, but off the shore I have found it frustrating as I always seem to get snagged. But Nick persevered, and cast his rod and lure, the size of a teaspoon,  for hours at a time. I can see his face now as he ran up full of the joy of a catch. A  huge sea trout! It was the first of five, three got off, but two we ate with gusto! Half an hour in the oven, half an hour on the barbecue and served with lemon aioli. Oh my!

It was enough. He and John went off to buy some more fish hooks and came back with a belly boat that they couldn’t resist. We were all convinced we would be hauling in the mackerel, and each of us had a go, rowing out on the Forth, in the wake of big shipping, intrepid and hopeful. Nick caught one, and John and I – zero. Still, I think we were both secretly relieved as what would we have done had we caught anything? There was not a lot of space on Floaty Mac Boaty (as John named our ‘boat’) to dispatch a fish and still stay in control. Instead I liked the sensation of floating about and seeing the world from a different perspective.

Summer this year for me seemed to have a glow. I can still picture the Pittenweem Arts Festival, the hot day, the beautiful private gardens open to the public, displays of delphiniums and pink lavatera, roses dripping over walls.

We have had several lovely family visits here, with Gerry and her family, and also with Natasha and hers. We have enjoyed delicious meals together with the children in summer cottons.

John’s sisters have visited, also his son Matthew and his girlfriend,

and then his daughter Becky and her husband and little Jenson. It has been great for Nick to meet them all, and he has enjoyed spending time with all the kids.

We sailed on the Maid of the Forth out to the island of Inchcolm, and ate egg sandwiches looking down on the old monastery.

We walked in Dollar Glen and explored the river of Sorrows and Cares (!)

and met up with our old friends from St John’s walking group in Pitlochry.

We walked up to the Bealach of the Sermons and down to the Soldier’s Leap and along the wooded river bank back to the car. A fabulous day and good to catch up with so many ‘kent faces’.

Nick, John and I watched all the Clint Eastwood films and the Cohen brothers’ film, The Ballad of Buster Scruggs. Somehow the wild west seemed to dominate and I am often humming ‘The Good, the Bad and the Ugly!’ A portrait he made of me in my usual place!

And through it all, Nick sat with John and me, out by the sea wall or on the decking, his profile always out to sea, ‘Did you see that Mum, a fish jumped’. And he would dash for the rod.

I miss him walking about, miss his disparaging views of the news, his determination to get John and me out to the pub in the evening to meet his chums. ‘Come on you two, I have your names down for the quiz tonight.’ And we would go and we would have fun. Last night, after he had flown away to seek his fortune, we went again, as we promised we would. John and I sat with his friends and the quiz was fun (it always is). Myra told me how much she liked Nick, and so did Ena and Alan and Davey and Robert.

And Dillon and Darcey: ‘Where’s Uncle Nick?’ was always the first question.

He spent hours with them, playing at their pace and on their level. Lifting them high to grab an apple from the tree, the same tree that we collected the blossom from in the spring. He was there to push the swing, kick the ball, walk the plank, be the prince or just have a cuddle. I can still see his head bent over the toy box in Gerry’s house, with Dillon showing him all his trucks.

People will say the summer was not as hot as last, it rained a bit, it was a disappointment. But I see it all, through  eyes a little wet and blurred from tears. I see a tall lanky lad walking down to the sea, a rod in his hand, a hand raised, ‘Is dinner ready yet, Mum?’

It is that time of day, time for a brandy and a bag of crisps. In a minute I shall raise a glass and wish upon those stars that shoot about for good luck, and  wish lots of love to all my friends who may need it just now.

Cheers!