For our second Comrie taster session we went back to Comrie Croft. It is a lovely place to relax and explore and is easy for residents to get to for an early coffee and bacon roll.
It would have been a perfect morning except for the works that they had going on, tarmacking the A85 and building a new covered deck by the tea garden. I'm sure when it's finished it will be brilliant, but the sounds of men-at-work kind of obliterated everything natural while we were trying to tune in to our non visual senses.
Five minute task
The small buzz saw - With the thrum of road works, the whine of the hoover and ding of a hammer, Monday is a work day. Even the birds are busy, chirping away as they forage for their young.
The small buzz saw spits hot orange sparks. Do they singe the hairs on the builder's exposed legs? Cutting through a metal beam, the molten steel smells of old trains.
From my vantage point in the tea garden, I was also distracted by the counter with their wonderful array of cakes on offer. I might have managed to resist the sweet things but if my hearing had been overloaded with the buzz saw, my sense of smell was overwhelmed by the bacon on the grill and I struggled to think, let alone write, about anything else.
Main task
The bacon roll guy - It was cold in the kitchen. But Jim didn't mind; it would warm up soon enough. The Croft was quiet. The weekenders had gone, the day visitors hadn't shown up yet and the workmen were still in their vans with a thermos and the Daily Record.
Jim picked up a granary roll, the oats and grains rough in his hand as he sawed it in two. "Morning," Sally called from the door. "Ooh it's chilly in here today," she said with a shiver and touched the thermostat. "Can I?" She asked and he nodded. "Thanks." She took the bread knife from him and took over cutting rolls.
"Do you want a coffee?" Jim asked her, but was already out of the door, confident of her answer.
"Oh, yes please," she said.
He started grinding the beans, the crack of them richocheting off the sides before they broke up and began to whizz about like sand. He filled the portafilter, the earthy smell of the freshly ground beans reaching so high up his nose it seemed to stimulate his brain before he had taken one sip.
"Are you open?" A voice asked behind him. Jim glanced at the clock; it was 8.30.
"Not yet," he said and could hear the woman sag slightly. He turned, it had been a cold, wet night and she looked spent. He smiled. "What would you like?"
"A black coffee and a bacon roll," she said. "But I'd settle for the coffee."
Jim tamped the coffee down in the portafilter and inserted it into the machine, turning it on. "Give me a minute," he said, leaning over to turn on the hot plate.
He handed Sally her coffee, picked up a pack of bacon and two cut rolls. "Already?" She said, glancing at the clock.
"It's just one, cold camper," he assured her and she met his eye.
"White or brown?" Jim asked, handing the lady her Americano.
"You're a lifesaver," she said, her hand trembling slightly as she warmed it round the hot cup. "Brown."
Jim's own cold hands started to warm up as they hovered over the sizzling bacon on the hot plate. He looked up; a queue was forming.
The day before the writing group met at Comrie Croft there was a singing workshop at Tomnah'a, the adjacent market garden.
It was a lovely day, at times chilly and breezy but with the warming embrace of singing together.
It was such a great setting for getting together to sing songs about nature among the flowers and foliage.
You would think that I might have written about some of that but as you can see I went for the bacon instead.
Next time.
Comentarios