From The Log Book Of Memories

A Memory of Pittenweem.

What a wonderful summer 1953 was, so sunny that I was burned and confined to a darkened room in our hostess, Miss Montador's, terraced house somewhere up the back of the town but easy walking distance to the harbour. I could go down there aged 10, with my younger brother aged 6, unaccompanied, and fish with a hand line off the harbour. Well do I remember a 'big' boy catching a huge conger eel and having to get help from a fisherman (lots of smacks in the harbour) to kill it by putting a big box over it and decapitating it. Also going up to a farm on the east side to get a hen which my Aunt plucked and gutted revealing an egg without its shell for us to cook. My first biology lesson? A few days later we walked with her up the road to the station alongside the ripe cornfield with lots of poppies on the verge. My youngest brother age 3, in a pushchair (buggy) was licking a lollipop and would not give it to the wasp, which stung his face a few times. More work for the medic. It was so good when there were so few motor vehicles. What a beautiful place.
Our fish comes here now all the way from Pittenweem every week. Thank you Mark