Whatever that means



Leven shares with a lot of Fife towns the unfortunate feature that you tend to arrive through its grimmest parts. In Leven’s case these seem to merge with Methil, setting you up for some kind of post-industrial hell, with a Proclaimers soundtrack. But actually its a pretty little place, although with too many pound shops and cheap supermarkets separated by some nice butchers and fishmongers.

I’d been before but probably about thirty something years ago, on a day trip from Glasgow. Christ knows how we managed that on a bus. My only memory of the day is my mother’s terrible cheating at pitch and putt, kicking her ball when she thought no one was looking.

Anyway, we were here to fill the car with as much wood as possible from the soon-to-vacated house of SooB. When we entertained the fantasy, about 10 years ago, of converting a church, this is the sort of thing we had in mind. Gorgeous open plan place with high ceilings and a balcony all the way round. Bugger to heat, mind. Still, lovely place and I went away with a car stuffed with wood and a lovely little jointer/planer (which you can tell Jamie, works fine) into the bargain. Hope he enjoys the dram. Cheers SooB!


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This entry was posted on June 3, 2014 by in The Bank of Me.
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