The lad lies restless. His toys aren’t fun anymore, his pals aren’t about, and his day is looking gloom. Along springs Mum, sick of her laddie moping in his cave.
'Right you, let’s get up to Fast Castle,' barks Mum. An instruction, not a suggestion, resulting in moans that are ignored by Mother.
The wee boy shoves his heels down his wee boots, gets his wee raincoat on ('It’s not meant to come on, but you never know here!'), and stomps out to the car. Mum follows, bag packed with the essentials.
The car hums gently as they cruise through the moors, the light grey skies draping the familiar setting. Mum pats the wheel as the lad’s head rests on the window, the small shudder of the door sending him off for a minute.
They bump down a gravel trail, a few local sheep raise their heads in acknowledgment. They don’t mind the visitors. The car pulls into the overgrown parking space, and 4 feet hit the ground in unison.
Mum with a lot of wee steps, Son with a lot of big steps, they embark on the decline towards their destination. The cold sea paints their rosy cheeks, but they cannot yet see the big blue skyline. Lots of huffing, lots of puffing, they continue padding.
They reach a peak and the sea reveals itself, along with the vast cliffs that stretch as far as the boy’s eyes could see.
'Big, eh?' says Mum, 'You don’t wanna get lost up here.'
The boys mind races and a cheeky grin spans his face, thinking of all the stories that these cliffs will have seen. He’d pay all his pocket money for a chance to chat with them about the characters that have traversed these trails.
'Do you see the castle?'
His beady eyes scan the coast. His curious pupils turn frustrated, then to disappointment.
'Look!' Mum points to ruins stoically isolated on a cliff edge, right at the bottom of the steep decline. 'Come on, I’ll tell you about it when we’re down.'
Stottering down the edge, the boy leads. He approaches the flat before the crossing to the castle, he gets up a little jog, and gets himself down to the grassy runway to the castle ruins in one piece.
The pair find themselves in the heart of the once great spot and they plonk themselves down in the middle of it all. They both take sighs, one in exhaustion, one in relief they’ve made it in one piece.
‘Well? What’s it all about?' ponders the lad.
Mum explains a bit of the history that she knows, and the boy nods his head and looks around and imagines the castle in its former glory. The potential tales of those who once were here fill the boy's head with pictures, knights, princesses, dragons, anything could go in a land that belonged in a time before his own. Little stories set his curious brain alight, Mum happy to provide the fuel.
They both sit quiet and take in the views that surround them, the wind gently casting over each of their bodies. They take in the calm of the horizon, neither of them realising that in many years to come they will remember this day. Not because anything dramatic happened, not because of any big moment of hilarity, but because they were simply happy to be with each other. Pottering about in the wilderness, blethering away, oot on a wee adventure.