Bowling is like a silent movie film star. In that no one’s heard of it, but there’s lots of old photies of it kicking about.
That view above has been etched and painted many times over the past couple of hundred years. I think the piers of the Erskine Bridge would be in that horse’s way these days, but Dumbarton Rock still looks the same.
It’s gone from rural idyll to industrial conduit as seen below, and now it’s just in the way of folk wanting to get onto the A82.
But, we had our 32nd Annual Gala Day last Saturday, the sun shone, the flags were out, we paraded through the village with a pipe band (we decorated Holly’s bike trailer as a princess carriage for that) and made merry at the village hall.
Holly won a prize for her Little Mermaid outfit, the Gala Queen was crowned, hands were shaken and smiles were exchanged with old friends who always come back to the village for the day, and others were missed in the crowd. ‘Til next year anyway.
On Monday we were all back to being bad tempered commuters, but I know the community spirit is still there, underneath somewhere. Maybe there’s hope for us after all.