Elie, The Scottish Riviera, 2025 – trip report by Froggee (paterfamilias)

[Froggee]

Last year we did not make it to the Scottish riviera as I thought that the excitement of the Paris Olympics was preferable to holidaying in Scotland for our traditional end of summer break. It totally was. But after the misery of last year’s Covid-ridden American tragedy, this year we decided to stay closer to home for our main summer holiday. I figured where better to go than Elie on Scotland’s world famous Costa del Fife. It was either that or Cornwall and I do not have a nine-hour drive in me – at least not with Kermit and Freddo in the car. Elie is quite posh and at the HfP summer party, @ExpatInBerlin said a very clever thing: “if everyone in Elie is from Edinburgh, is it really in Fife?” I can always use wise words like this. But, having found out that my ex-former-best-friend Mr McToadrick lived scarily close to her in London, @ExpatInBerlin promptly changed her name and moved to Canada under some form of witness protection scheme – never to be heard of again. Even her HfP handle has been deactivated and no longer turns blue when referenced.

Sad face.

But as if to prove @ExpatInBerlin’s point, our next-door neighbours (from Edinburgh) were in Elie with their daughters on holiday at the same time as us. And friends that used to live opposite us (but moved one block away) were there with their daughters too. Elie is an Edinburgh middle class cliché.

We thought we might stay in the same house we had rented a couple of years ago in the amusingly named Sahara Park. Pleasingly it had availability for the first two weeks of the Scottish school holidays. This was a minor miracle as we had left it relatively last minute to book i.e. nine months beforehand. Mrs Froggee and I made a key mistake of deliberating over one week or two. And both weeks promptly went. This made us sad as we had had quite liked that house. I did the only logical thing which was to give up but Mrs Froggee did some internetting and found another house which was also in Sahara Park and was literally next door to the house we had previously stayed in. This house was quite a lot smaller. If I am being precise, its 858 sq. ft. of floor space was 1,026 sq. ft. less than the house that we actually liked but who wants to vacation in a spacious house? It is about spending time together, innit? And Mrs Froggee and I love sleeping in a small bed. It brings out the best in our relationship for sure.

So, we took the smaller house. It had the added benefit of being bookable for nine nights. Often one week away seems too short but two weeks can seem far, far, far too long hence our prior deliberation. Nine nights sounded just right. It was ours for £1,600.

Both boys were hyper in the run up to the end of term. Kermit “graduated” from primary school and weirdly there was a full-on prizegiving ceremony where he shocked everybody by winning a prize for being one of the least incompetent string musicians in his year. We were so overjoyed we almost did not mind having to spend one and a half hours sitting in the world’s most uncomfortable chairs.

And at 10:30am on Friday, another year of school was done. I consider it the most successful school year yet as, for the first year ever, we had not been summoned by matron to retrieve a poorly child. Once home, Mrs Froggee commenced packing. After taking the boys for haircuts, I spent the remainder of Friday wishing we were going somewhere good. Preferably without children. The boys obviously annoyed each other with constant sorties into each other’s room. “Daddy – Kermit’s in my room!”. Cue Kermit dragging Freddo into his room. “No I’m not – Freddo’s in my room!” I told them to STOPPIT and that they could go in each other’s room as much as they liked on holiday. “But we’re sharing a room!” Indeed boys. Indeed.

We had been fortunate as our holiday house had been vacated and cleaned on the Friday so we were allowed to arrive whenever we wished on Saturday as opposed to the prescribed 4pm. Therefore, we left chez Froggee at around 9:20am. My petrol gauge said I only had 40 miles to empty but I reckoned it was bluffing. I had checked the price of petrol at Costco online which was 123.9p per litre. But Costco was South and we were going West and then North and then East. As I was anchored to the Costco price, I turned down Esso’s offer of 133.9p as we headed out of Edinburgh. At South Queensferry we stopped off at Craigies to stock up on fruit. I spent £25.69 on cherries, raspberries and strawberries. Okay, okay. And £4 on two large empire biscuits. I am weak.

We made good time over the Queensferry Crossing and I was delighted to observe that my fuel gauge now said I had 50 miles to empty. Kermit’s head just about exploded at the absurdity of this. Freddo tried to explain how the calculation is based on recent driving to Kermit and made a right pig’s mess of it. We all laughed at Freddo which worked out well as he stopped talking for a bit. But then I only had 40 miles left again and the fuel gauge looked really low. The dearth of petrol stations meant I bottled it at the first opportunity and spent £74.46 at BP filling up for 135.9p per litre. This made me sad. I had gambled and lost the cost of more than half of an empire biscuit.

As always, we missed the turnoff to Elie. Because, as always, the boys were talking at full volume. This meant that we went the even more wobbly way. We arrived in Elie shortly before 11am with one carsick Kermit and one bouncy Freddo. The holiday house was lovely but small. We entered holiday mode which, for the avoidance of doubt, meant Mrs Froggee and I unpacked while the boys stared at their iPads.

We had lunch at the Pavillion for £53.20 which, weirdly, Mrs Froggee paid for. Then Mr Waitrose obligingly drove the 51 miles from Stirling and delivered £235.95 of groceries. With the fridge now full there was only one thing to be done during the early summer heatwave so we went to the beach.

Sometimes when it is windy on beaches you get a free exfoliation. This was of a different order of magnitude. I wished I had brought the floorboards from our hall as they could do with being sanded down and it was free sandblasting all afternoon on Elie beach. Mrs Froggee has many regrets in life but telling me not to pack the wind break probably came in at somewhere between the time she lost Kermit in the supermarket and marrying me. We were very much underdressed and we cowered behind the closest thing we could find to a sand dune while the boys danced around in shorts and t-shirts throwing sand at each other. My iPhone claimed that the wind was 22mph, the temperature was 19 centigrade and with windchill it felt like 14 centigrade. It was worse than that.

We were very glad to call it quits and have dinner at the 19th Hole. £60.05 fed us well. Plus a tenner for the lovely fellow who served us.

Bedtime saw the usual drama with Freddo unable to even contemplate sleep because light was getting into his room through the massive gaps at the sides of the Roman blinds. He got issued with a British Airways eye mask but it did not achieve perfect blackout. I told him this was because his nose was too small but that did not help. It pains me but Freddo responds best to harshness in such circumstances so I was harsh. But Freddo decided to up the ante and managed to drop a book down the back of the radiator in his room. It was irretrievable on account of the skirting board blocking the bottom and the brackets holding the radiator to the wall blocking the sides. I tried pushing it up with wooden spoons but had to give up as, time and time again, the book slipped back down just as I thought I had won. It was like a grown-up version of the claw machines where my children never quite manage to win a cuddly toy. I threatened the loss of screens if there was any more nonsense, told Freddo I would fish the book out the next day, tried to sound genuine when I said I loved him, and retreated. Meanwhile Kermit had decided to be allergic to Elie.

Obviously, we slept really badly the first night. This was not because I expected to be murdered having previously survived seven nights mere metres away. But a small bed and a duvet designed for the arctic is a bad combination in the summer. In the end I went downstairs at 3am and lay on the couch and read for a couple of hours. This was a winning strategy as it saved me from being woken up by the sun at 4am and then by Kermit’s 5am nose blasting. I went upstairs and severely admonished Kermit and went back to bed noting that the time spent on the couch had destroyed my back.

Then I remembered that it was Kermit’s 12th birthday that day and I felt a bit bad about being mean to him. Although as he had not been born until 4:35pm, I let myself off on a technicality – he would not properly be 12 years old for another 11 hours.

Mrs Froggee had brought birthday presents which Kermit opened in a new personal best time – well before 4:35pm I might add. And she had ordered a cake from the Elie Deli’s in-house baker who duly became her new best friend. The cake was Minecraft themed, cost only £60 despite being expertly crafted and served us two times with a quarter going to our Edinburgh neighbours and friends respectively. The birthday dinner was at the Ship Inn which I thought was fine but Mrs Froggee was quietly seething given that her postage-stamp sized piece of sole cost £32 with greens and fries on top. She grudgingly paid the £115.59 bill which now includes 12.5% service charge. Dessert was birthday cake at the holiday house – our Edinburgh neighbours swung by to collect their quarter – strategically without their daughters in tow.

Amusingly that was pretty much the only time we saw our Edinburgh neighbours. We did briefly see the dad at the Pavilion when he was getting takeaway coffee but when he saw us, he shouted “Off to St Andrews for the day” ran towards their moving car and jumped into it as his wife sped off. How he did this without spilling two coffees is beyond me. So sadly, the boys did not get to play with our Edinburgh neighbours’ girls at all which they had been immensely looking forward to. We explained to them how the dad works very hard and is away a lot with his work so wants to see his daughters as much as possible on holiday. This is an alien concept to our boys as we are almost always around. Mrs Froggee even gives them the courtesy of being present when she is there.

Anyway – we had three days that were vaguely sunny albeit a bit windy which you would probably accept in Scotland. Then the weather turned. The news was still full of heatwave stories so I messaged my ex-former-best-friend Mr McToadrick to point out that London was forecast to hit 32 centigrade that day whereas Elie was to reach the giddy heights of 17. Mr McToadrick replied “it’s worse than 32 – it’s really humid”. I responded with “it’s worse than 17 – it’s really damp”. And put the central heating on.

Our temporary neighbours next door who had nabbed our desired holiday house before us were beyond annoying. A family of four with fit grandparents along for the ride. Their two teenage boys were up at the crack of dawn and out on their bikes. They also came with golf clubs, kayaks, footballs, wetsuits – the whole caboodle for an outdoorsie and wholesale holiday. Sometimes they sat outside as a family peacefully enjoying each other’s company. The only time they made any “unreasonable” noise was when they got back at about 10pm one evening and the two boys thought it would be funny to give each other a prisoner’s wash with the outdoor hose. I might have found this to be hilarious. Grrr – posers with active children in their grand house with a superking-sized bed in the master bedroom, a tumble dryer, spacious open plan living area, and a separate lounge with AN ACTUAL DOOR.

Meanwhile our boys stumbled from bed to iPad and grumbled at the possibility of doing something other than stare at a screen; Mrs Froggee and I increasingly resented the other’s nighttime presence; I struggled to keep up with laundry (always a blue task on holiday) on account of only having an ickle little drying horse which we kind of needed for the bath towels; and the lounge was virtually a no-go area with Lego land mines everywhere and a back destroying couch. You could sit at the kitchen table which was approximately one metre from the lounge with only an arch indicating separation. And the kitchen chairs, which made the couch seem comfortable, saw me fondly remember the luxurious seating at the school prizegiving ceremony. During the day I mainly hid upstairs on the bed (which was a perfect size just for me) and went for walks on the beach or along the Fife coastal path.

In an attempt to get the boys out of the house Mrs Froggee had booked Kermit and Freddo in for tennis lessons at a cost of £60 per child for five days which they did not mind attending too much as our friends’ daughters were there also. And we braved the beach most days. The boys even willingly went into the sea despite not having wetsuits like the girls did. Given their inclination to get wet, Mrs Froggee then signed them up for a kayaking lesson (2 x £40 including wet suits) choosing a Wednesday afternoon when all the rain that had not fallen earlier in the year decided to show up. As is traditional, we checked if the boys had peed before leaving the house. Kermit informed us that there was no need to, as the whole sea was a toilet for all the creatures in it and he was going to be one of these creatures that day. I could not argue with this logic but felt truly sorry for the genuine sea creatures.

The weather really was filthy. As Kermit got changed into his “crusty” borrowed wetsuit, he described it as the worst experience of his life. Hold that thought Kermit, hold that thought. We could not feasibly watch as the kayakers were taken out to sea with the other victims being a boy about the same age as Kermit and his show-off father. Therefore, Mrs Froggee and I got coffee/tea and mars bar/crisps from the Salty Dog Cafe for £8.50 and sat in the car while the rain lashed down. We were fortunate that there was a break in the rain when we went to retrieve the boys. Kermit was as white as a ghost. It turns out that kayaking in the sea is a bad idea if you get seasick. Mrs Froggee asked why he did not tell the instructor. “I did! She said she would check back on me in five minutes but she never came back”. It possibly was the worst experience of his life. Maybe after Covid. But very character building. And more importantly I got coffee and a mars bar so all good.

Freddo felt modestly seasick but was merely grumpy. We went back to the holiday house where Kermit fell asleep on the couch. For well over an hour. And this boy never naps. Kermit eventually woke up and felt well enough to go on YouTube. We had booked the Ship Inn for dinner but Kermit claimed he felt dizzy when walking so Mrs Froggee cancelled and fetched takeout from the Pavillion. That evening I asked Mrs Froggee if she had enjoyed her day. Apparently, Mrs Froggee had really enjoyed sitting in the car with me, a cup of tea and a bag of crisps. But perhaps not in that order. It had been the highlight of the holiday so far. I felt really sorry for her. Sometimes I have a vision of a young Mrs Froggee growing up in Singapore with all her hopes and dreams. When you count hiding from the rain in a fogged-up car with me as a highlight of a holiday, you know you have hit rock bottom.

The wind did a good job of spoiling the last few days of our holiday. We actually realised that the first day had not been that bad. Freddo wanted to play “family tennis” after a successful two hour knock around earlier in the week (£15 an hour for a cheaper court + £2 each for racket hire for Mrs Froggee and me) which we had all enjoyed. I said no as it was clearly too windy. Mrs Froggee bravely took the boys and paid £20 for them to play on an expensive court so she could keep an eye on it from the safety of the cafe. They did not last. It was too windy. Afterwards Freddo wanted to go to the beach. I was like “you be crazy” but Mrs Froggee took the boys. They lasted all of two minutes before coming home. All we had left was Rummikub.

The next day I tried playing tennis with the boys and it was pretty much impossible. 40 mile an hour gusts meant I could not even keep my baseball cap on. But because I had paid £17 we played for the whole hour. Kermit was actually crying at one point as he kept hitting the ball into the net because of the driving wind. By contrast, Freddo was super happy – but only because Kermit was miserable.

Thankfully we managed to beat a cup of tea in a damp car as the highlight of Mrs Froggee’s holiday by having dinner at the East Pier Smokehouse. The business has changed hands but the food was just as good. Unfortunately, it is only open for dinner on Fridays and Saturdays or we would have gone back. Sometimes Mrs Froggee struggles to choose what to eat and again she faced a dilemma. I encouraged her to go for both the lobster and the tempura prawns. The waitress took our order and there was an awkward moment when she read back the order and said “I have one starter and five main courses”. “That’s right,” said Mrs Froggee. The waitress looked confused. “My wife likes food” said I. Mrs Froggee then mumbled something about sharing. I contemplated adding “much like how a lion shares its food with hyenas” but I was (and am) on a Performance Improvement Plan. And if I got another demerit I would not have been allowed to go down to London for Wimbledon. The bill was not unreasonable at £150.02 including a 15% tip. Obviously, Mrs Froggee’s two main courses and one starter cost way more than the three of us. But she was happy. And not so full as to be unwilling to stop off at the ice cream shop on the way home. Rum and raisin beckoned and four ice creams set me back a further £14.30 at LJ’s. Amusingly Mrs Froggee actually considered the staff’s offer of selling her 4.5 litres of rum and raisin ice cream for £35. If our freezer had been bigger, she may well have gone for it.

By the end of the holiday, Kermit would not even go to the beach. Mrs Froggee took Freddo there. I stayed behind and read Kermit the riot act. He grudgingly agreed to come on the Elie Chain Walk with me. We were a bit pushed for time so I drove to the far end of Elie to save ten minutes each way. As I suspected, Kermit very much enjoyed the chain walk. He disliked the 20-minute walk to get to it and hated the 30-minute walk back but he loved the bit where if one of us slipped, it would be a trip to hospital. The potential for head injury was extreme hence not bringing Freddo.

The general consensus on the interweb is to allow between one and two hours to do the chain walk. With hindsight it was probably a mistake starting one hour before we had a reservation for dinner at the Ship Inn. Plus, there were other people doing the chain walk and sometimes we had to wait for them. We completed the scramble up, over, and across the rocks in a commendable half hour. Before climbing up the slope to the path home we encountered a poor woman who must have slipped and hurt herself. She looked in shock. She was with her family, hugging a dog for warmth, and was waiting to be rescued. I have no idea how a rescue might work, given the inaccessibility. I asked if I could help but I could not. So instead, I focused on trying to get back in time for dinner or else I would be in big trouble.

I led the way back to the car at a brisk pace. One of the times I checked behind me for Kermit, he was running to catch up. “Where did you get to?” “Oh, I tripped and almost went head first over the cliff”. Right. That would be so Kermit. Survive the dangerous bit and then die walking home. It was probably best that I did not witness his tumble. I was also risking injury by walking and texting Mrs Froggee. We got back to the car three minutes after our reservation time, drove the couple of minutes back to the holiday house where Mrs Froggee and Freddo were waiting for us outside and drove to the Ship Inn, arriving eight minutes late. I was blessed with a parking space right outside and was saved from enough demerits to see me banned from taking a long-planned solo trip to Bermuda in September.

I then blew it all by winning at Rummikub while we waited for dinner. For the first time ever. Freddo told me I was “lucky” – even he rarely gets out that quickly. Mrs Froggee just looked angry. This was despite her portion of beef being acceptable. I quietly paid the £110.81 bill and took the gang to LJ’s for compensatory ice cream. I stayed in the car and abstained as penance.

Our final day finally came – I reckon one week would have been plenty long enough. The wind had died down so we played some more family tennis and then packed up. We had possession of the house until 10am the next day but have found it more civilised to have an early dinner and head down the road which we did. £59 plus a fiver tip got us dinner at the 19th Hole and we were finished by 6pm and were in the car at 6:15pm. Freddo decided to get car sick this time whereas Kermit was fine. But Freddo made it past the wobbly roads and he improved once we were on the motorway. We were home by 7:30pm. It was ever so good to be home. We slept way better. And needless to say, it was not long before the boys were over the wall and playing with the girls again.

We have a saying in the Froggee household that it isn’t a holiday unless Freddo sustains a head injury. The absence of any head trauma reinforced the fact that this had not felt like much of a holiday. Family trip? Sure.

If the purpose of a holiday is to make you appreciate your own home more, then this family trip certainly served its purpose. Maybe next year I should just book a couple of nights in a static caravan? That way, arriving home will be even better.

The end

PS You should totally watch the video I linked to of the Elie Chain Walk. That fellow is not me – I am nowhere near that rugged but I am really impressed how he did it one handed while holding a 360 degree camera on a selfie stick.

[StanTheMan]

Superb, just superb !

[AJA]

Froggee wrote:

PS You should totally watch the video I linked to of the Elie Chain Walk. That fellow is not me – I am nowhere near that rugged but I am really impressed how he did it one handed while holding a 360 degree camera on a selfie stick.

Wow that is one tough route! I love the way the chap filming himself described doing the route with a selfie stick as “slightly tricky”. I’m impressed you and Kermit did any of it without selfie stick. I’ll stick to watching the video.

And I definitely appreciate the comforts of my home without even going anywhere, let alone on holiday to sunny Elie.

If the aim of your trip report was to highlight the benefits of the Froggee family going on a summer holiday to Costa del Fife and encouraging the rest of us to replicate it I’m afraid you’ve failed miserably. I like my holiday weather to be a bit more “thank God for the air conditioning” than “where’s the blanket and the roaring fire in July?”.

[Princess]

It was an absolutely fantastic and fun read! Thank you

[BJ]

I’ve had my eye on one particular house in Elie for years, I’m now praying it doesn’t go on the market before you guys get through puberty 🙂

[JDB]

@Froggee – brilliant narrative as always. I understand the bracing beach wind is referred to as a ‘Fife facial’. I’m sure these holidays will ultimately be the ones that are most fondly remembered vs those in supposedly more exotic (ie more expensive) European climes.

[The Savage Squirrel]

Brilliant!

I managed to get sunburn in Scotland a few weeks ago. I feel this achievement should win some sort of special award. Sorry, that probably doesn’t help 😂

My brother has always been very logical – I remember him even as a fairly small child asking “if you need a windbreak on a beach, why are you even there?”. He did/does have a point….

[Man of Kent]

Thanks, another enjoyable and amusing read.