Fish Suppers, Ferry Crossings & Summer Smiles
***
Road trips never needed distance far,
Just open skies and our faithful car.
A simple run to the western shore,
Yet every journey becomes much more.
To Largs where Viking history whispers softly,
And summer laughter fills the day.
From ferry port to the river cross,
Where fresh meets salt in gentle gloss.
No rushing clocks, no strict design,
Just hand in hand along the line.
A wee slow stroll, the warm sea air,
Finding little wonders everywhere.
Out beyond the dancing tide,
Great Cumbrae waits with quiet pride.
The ferry glides both to and fro,
Like an old friend we’ve come to know.
Above us swans sweep through the blue,
In perfect lines the way they do.
Two guard cygnets by the shore,
Tiny drifting ***** of down once more.
Soon they’ll brave the waters deep,
Where River and salty currents meet.
Then drifting softly through the breeze,
Come fairground songs and memories.
The Fairman booming loud and bright,
Like a sixties DJ of the night.
Summer rhythms shake the air,
Youthful echoes everywhere.
I hold my love beside the sea,
And joy comes washing over me.
One glance, one smile, no words required,
Two hearts completely rewired.
We wander on that gentle mile,
Stopping for crazy golf awhile.
Though “crazy” truly fits the game,
As neither one can properly aim.
We laugh so hard the people stare,
But summer magic fills the air.
Back we pass the fair once more,
Music rolling from the shore.
A fleeting thought of daring rides,
Then wiser minds and ageing sides
Decide perhaps we’ll safely pass,
And head instead for boats and laughs.
The ferry carries us away,
Across the Clyde at end of day.
And waiting there with heavenly grace,
Our favourite supper spot in place.
Tucked beside the harbour wall,
The finest chippy of them all.
Wrapped in paper, hot with steam,
Better than a royal dream.
No silver plates or fancy view,
Just me beside the sea with you.
Our table made of weathered stone,
Yet somehow feeling like a throne.
But danger circles overhead,
The gulls with hungry eyes of dread.
Turn your back for just one bite,
And supper may well vanish mid-flight.
Still every risk is worth the chance,
For heaven comes with salt and vinegars dance.
The sunlight fades, the breeze turns cold,
The evening settles soft and gold.
Our ferry waits, the day complete,
With sea air drifting through the street.
And as we journey gently home,
One truth beside us always roams—
The greatest trips are not how far,
But who you share the journey are.