We’d seen from the weather forecast (And, well, the news, obviously: because in Britain, the weather IS the news…) that Tuesday was supposed to be the warmest September day on record, but when I woke up to the usual grey skies and pouring rain, I really had my doubts. In fact, I must have asked Terry about twenty times if he thought we should just cancel the day out we had planned, because it seemed totally implausible to me that it could be sunny ANYWHERE in the country right at that moment.
“Have faith, young Amber,” said Terry.* So I kept the faith, applied some sunscreen, and sure enough, by the time we were halfway to our destination – the little village of Cove, in the Scottish Borders – the rain had stopped, the sun had come out, and it was starting to feel like summer again. And, I mean, OK, the temperature didn’t quite hit the giddy heights the South of England was getting that day, but it was still pretty sweet for Scotland in September, so you definitely won’t catch me complaining. For once.
(*Not really: he was much more blunt than that…)
The word “village” actually seems a like a bit of a stretch for Cove: there are only about three houses there, and, as its Wiki page notes, absolutely no amenities – not even an ASDA supermarket, can you believe it?! (There is one in nearby Dunbar, though: phew!) That, of course, is all part of the charm,though: after walking down a winding coastal pathway, you access the beach via a dark and spooky tunnel, hewn into the rocks (A video of this might still be on my Instagram stories page, actually, depending on when you’re reading this…), before emerging onto the beautiful golden sand of the cove which (presumably) gave the village its name. It’s all very Famous Five-esque, and, well, you all know how much I love a ripping adventure, so it was pretty much perfect, as far as I was concerned. (And no, I WAS NOT scared in that tunnel. YOU were scared in that tunnel. I just used the knowledge gleaned from a childhood’s worth of Enid Blyton stories, to unwind a ball of string as I went, so I’d easily be able to find my way back…)
(OK, I WAS a bit scared in the tunnel, actually, but only because I insisted on walking through it on my own, so I could film it for Instagram, and halfway through it I became convinced I was NOT, in fact alone. What was the strange presence in the tunnel? That I totally imagined? We will never know: mostly because I just made it up right this second…)
(Seriously, though, HOW LONG would a ball of string have to be for the Famous Five to be able to unwind one all the way through those catacombs they were always finding themselves in? That must’ve been one hell of a ball of string, is all I’m saying. How did they even get it into the tunnel in the first place? Did they have to, like, roll it along the ground beside them? Wouldn’t someone notice that? Will I ever stop asking random questions about the Famous Five? Or will I just go on like this forever?)
What was I talking about? Oh yeah, Cove, and the 34,654 photos I took there! Can you blame me, though? And, I mean, it might not have been the hottest September day on record, but it was definitely one of the nicest, and that’s good enough for me…
Dorothy Perkins shoes
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