A winter walk

A walk on the beach at Kinghorn has been long-promised. Waiting for some men to bring their kayak up the steps, the cadence of the waves on the shore makes itself known to my senses. A woman is throwing a ball for her collie using one of those curved sticks. Collies are stupid, but this one seems to be stupider than average. The woman is having to do most of the work, all but fetching the ball herself. No wonder they call dogs, “man’s best friend”, they’re the only animal stupider than man.

The tide is in but ebbing. People along the short walk do not seem to be much in the mood for pleasant exchanges, intensifying the sense of isolation from the herd, something I always feel over Christmas. Contempt rises, even as I scold myself for it.

Turning at the rocks that stand as a barricade to Pettycur, the low midday sun is warm on my face. It feels like forgiveness.