Erikka Askeland: Set Forth regardless – don’t let rain stop play

All superfluous, it turned out. Although with the weather smudging or obscuring such sights this week as the Queen’s flotilla and the transit of Venus, Britain has got itself a bad rep for raining on its own parade. It is as if all those torches – the 2012 Olympic relay making its way through Glasgow and then those 2,012 beacons being lit in the style of the Lord of the Rings – are some primitive throwback to the days when we appealed to the gods for the bloody rain to stop.

It makes planning for hosting visitors to Scotland a challenge, but not an insurmountable one.

When holidaying here, the trick is to make a plan and stick to it while ensuring everyone has something to change into. Which is how we ended up boarding a chartered yacht at Port Edgar just as the smirr seemed to start thickening into a proper shower. Luckily for us, the stirring in the guts of at least one of our intrepid party was caused more by excitement or a little too much holiday wine the night previous rather than an incipient case of legionella.

We set sail at around 6:30 pm – or rather, fired up the vessel’s motor as the sky was gloomy but there was, unusually, no wind.

Our skipper Colin pointed out that the Forth is an under-appreciated stretch of water for local leisure boaters. For some reason they prefer to ply the waters around the bone white beaches and quaint villages of the west coast.

This is despite the appeal of the Forth bridges soaring overhead and the fat seals with big puppy dog eyes lounging on the buoys. Added to this, the caissons for the new crossing are being put into place which is actually quite exciting if you are a fan of current affairs or engineering. Usually I am happy to admit to the former but secretly harbour enthusiasm for the latter.

Our cruise also included a close up view of the dubious attractions presented by the Rosyth docks. But who would have thought that looking at the conning towers of decommissioned nuclear submarines would be so interesting? Or how much bitter mirth could be occasioned by the sight of part of an aircraft carrier that won’t carry aircraft for decades due to budget cuts?

The evening brightened as we passed Inchgarvie, the wee island that holds up the rail bridge. There is such a vast amount of history stuffed onto it – from the days when it was a place of exile for residents of Edinburgh suffering from syphilis, to when it was used to defend the Forth in the Second World War. With such diversions on offer, the threat of a little rain shouldn’t put anyone off. And would you believe, the downpour failed to materialise that evening.

Another bit of luck is that for some visitors, Scotland’s liquid sunshine is positively attractive.

My mum, who has been visiting this week from a country that actually has hot summers, for one, loves it. Or at least that is what she says to my rain-soaked face. It could just be she will get to my sister’s place when she returns to discuss how her holiday was marred by constant drizzle and the odd surly Scottish bus driver.

And even though I sometimes long to bake in the sun like a lizard on a rock, there are some things about our temperate clime that I find beneficial. For one, I actually prefer wearing clothes.

The years where I could flounce about in strappy vest tops and teeny skirts are long behind me. If indeed I ever had them. Rather a climate where a turtleneck and cardigan is always suitable attire is a far better option for me as well as anyone in my vicinity who gets to avoid an eyeful.

When the weather is as changeable as it is here it almost becomes a fellow holiday companion. You can either let it be the adversary who ruins the barbecue or the genial force that brings you indoors laughing together beside a warming fire to watch a DVD.

And if you require any more excitement than that, I recommend bringing some warm, dry socks.