Athelstaneford, Home of the Saltire

Together with his Lordship and his stead, I took the new chain and cassette block on bike #2, for a spin around East Lothian in the sun this morning.
It was the early Sunday risers that got the sun with the added attraction of little wind on the outward sortie, although there was always a mist over the Forth.

The thing I appreciate about East Lothian is the general lack of hills, but we did have to negotiate Bangley hill with its bad surface in order to reach Athelstaneford, the village in the blip.

The church in this tiny hamlet has a plaque in the grounds recording the origins of the Scottish Saltire.
It seems that nearby, Pictish and Scottish warriors were in the process of defeating an army of Northumbrians when the white cross of St Andrew appeared in the blue sky and the sign seemed significant enough for the Scots to use the image as a banner, which then became the Flag of Scotland.

History lesson over, we pedalled to Drem, another picture postcard village where as a schoolgirl with the rest of my class, I 'tatty howked' for two days.

This was deemed educational in that it gave us young Edinburgh ladies a taste of another life.
I can't speak for my class mates, but I loved it and can still remember the wholesome farm workers' meal we had for lunch.
Our class did so well with the "tatties" we were asked back.

I never ever found out what our esteemed and aloof MA Oxon educated English head mistress thought of it all- probably not a lot.

And so home via Fenton Barns , Aberlady and Longniddry with the sun gone and the wind picking up.

His Lordship voiced it all when he remarked how lucky we were still able to do this of a Sunday.
What he really meant was that with our length of teeth we might be sitting wrapped in travelling rugs in wheel chairs. Yes, we are lucky.