I’m a guy who gets attached to things; people, places, cars, guns, books, fountain pens, etc. These few inadequate words are about a special place that became attached to me.
Back in the day, George Dunn my brother-in-law and I occasionally played the Jubilee course in St. Andrews (Scotland). It was magical. The expanse of the eastern horizon is covered by the sometimes raging, sometimes friendly, sometimes in between North Sea.
We walked the ancient links, the same ancient links trod by Old Tom Morris and his son Young Tom; the place where the game of golf first came to be. There were the various shades of green, from fairway, to rough, to the putting surfaces that might sometimes surround two holes, (Thanks to Old Tom), and then you have the bright yellow blooms of the lethal gorse bushes which better golfers than myself would avoid.
I remember a morning with a light drizzle, jet fighters were lifting off from RAF Leuchars just across the River Eden’s estuary. RAF pilots of that day didn’t just take off, they threw in a mini airshow for our benefit.
After our round of golf (I still have a scorecard) and on our way back to Dundee, George and I usually stopped for lunch and a pint at a charmingly old fashioned village inn, conveniently located on the A919. That was St. Michael’s Inn.
The inn eventually became a regular part of our family’s life. It became the place where a nice meal would celebrate the achievement of one or more family members or a time to catch up with others. Eventually we didn’t need an excuse to go, we just went because we liked the place and we felt at home there; great ambiance, great menu, and great service. For me personally, coming from the Dust Bowl country of Oklahoma, St. Michael’s was just downright exotic, a bit like stepping back in time.
From the time George and I stopped there all those years ago, ye olde inn became a fixture in our family’s visits to the old country. No visit was complete without the extended family enjoying meals at St. Mike’s as we came to know it.
Sometimes it was just Joyce and myself, special times for us as well. When ordering, I would always order the prawn cocktail with their Rose Marie Sauce as an appetizer. It always came with a couple of wee slices of bread and I would hear Emma’s voice, ”Grandpa can I have your bread?” Young Grandsons in true Scottish fashion, would devour full size portions of steak pie or salmon. My all-time favorite has to be the venison casserole.
Joyce could always count on custard being available for her sticky toffee pudding. Joyce and I would have a cup of their marvelous coffee. As I look back at trip pictures, St. Michael’s is always there, always proudly standing in the background with my family.
And so I became attached to this old inn. It was more than just a building, or a restaurant. We were greatly saddened when our daughter, who lives just a few miles up the road, texted with news of the recent fire. She attached pictures and then news reports said that it would probably be totally destroyed.
Sad!
We considered the former owner Douglas Cruickshanks a friend and he many times assisted in waiting on our usually large table of family members. We have grandchildren, some soon to be university graduates who as kids will remember enjoyable times at the old inn.
I am certain that over the years some very famous people have hurried down the A919, the main road to St. Andrews just outside the old inn, on their way to play the Old Course while we just relaxed, enjoying ourselves in the cozy atmosphere inside St Mike’s.
Located as it is on the A919, the main road to St. Andrews, it was a coaching inn where travelers could rest or even spend the night, and fresh horses could be harnessed to coaches to continue scheduled journeys. History just oozed out of the woodwork.
Making it a bit different from most dining locations in the area, our olde inn had a large parking area, left over I suspect from its coaching inn days. That made going there very convenient. There was also a small garden with a couple of interesting trees.
Douglas tells me St Michael’s was built in 1799, “America was a new country only 23 years old when the Inn was built.”
Now it is gone. Douglas says, “It is very soul destroying to see an old building gutted like this.” We have spent many evenings in the old bar listening as Douglas told of interesting things that had happened at St. Michael’s. I always wondered what characters from previous centuries might have wondered through where we were actually sitting? What good is an imagination if you don’t use it once in a while.
Douglas
St. Mike’s was a special place.
I think I speak for more than myself in our family when I say we came to consider St. Mike’s Inn an old family friend. It will be missed.
We are in the midst of planning a trip to the old country wondering what we’ll do when the occasion calls for dinner at St Michael’s.
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