Only a third venture into Dumfries & Galloway, ever, but a second stop in Moffat.
The rain they hadn’t mentioned at the Visit Scotland website was arriving horizontally, but I bravely visited Station Park to capture this shot of Nessie, who entertained our two boys on our last visit to Swan Boat Lake a decade ago. No, Mrs RM didn’t fall in.
Moffat has a decent tourist trade based on some natural beauty and the fact the alternative stops off the A74(M) are covered in McDonald wrappers.
In an attempt to be the Brecon of the North, it throws in free parking, dark skies and an unmissable museum, as well as the Scottish version of the Garden Centre, the Mill Shop.
The museum had a video playing with what sounded like a scary Ivor Cutler (at least six syllables in the word “vulnerable“), detailing the atrocities visited on Moffat over the centuries, right up to the carnage caused by Queen of the South supporters during a pre-season friendly in 1996. All over an Iron Maiden soundtrack, possibly.
Plus a model railway.
Best of all, there’s an ancient Bass bottle which I perhaps stared at a little too passionately for the comfort of the volunteers.
You’ll be pleased to know I said “Hi” to the Scottish lady who passed me, painfully slowly, on the stairs up to the bottle display.
It’s a really attractive town, certainly the best before you get to Carluke, with an imposing church and the best graveyard outside the Falls Road.
The Black Bull was the Guide entry when I visited before, but clearly desecrating your ancient pub with the words “famous pie’n’mash” doesn’t go down well with Dumfries CAMRA. Or perhaps their beer isn’t as good as in the Star.
I nearly succumbed to the subliminal advertising outside the Black Bull. But as I’ve said, it was raining.
The World Famous Star Hotel (top)is hardly less forward in promoting itself.
Yes, it’s very narrow, and very old-fashioned (perhaps not by Dumfries standards), and quite charming, if a bit of a tat emporium (a Moffat speciality).
The Sulwath Criffel, first out the pumps, was OK but lacked a bit of condition (NBSS 2.5). A polite barman had to fetch an elder of the bar, either because he was too young, or the serving of ale is a sacred act reserved to those trained in the art. I know not.
It seems I’d chosen the lounge, home of ladies who lunch, rather than the actual bar, home of lads who Tennent. I hope that doesn’t invalidate my GBG tick. My company in the lounge was two genteel ladies, one from Harrogate, discussing “jewellery”, which I doubt was a euphemism for anything more sinister.
I attempted a recce of the building, and kept bumping into unfailingly polite staff, an occupational hazard in the narrowest hotel in the WORLD.
While Moffat looks traditional, the little shops off the High Street are anything but.
My other notes record that Well Street sold fascinators and “weird stuff”. You can’t have enough weird stuff. Or Shakin’ Stevens.
I like Moffat.
retiredmartin 
Is Mrs. Harrogate sitting down or is she very short?
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She’s shy. Probably crouching.
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The picture with the Black Bull is an excellent shot, frameable. I am a Seekers fan. The album is missing Georgie Girl, a song I loved to hear during warmups prior to basketball games in high school.
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Too much detail, Dick. Much too much.
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I do hear that frequently.
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Is my eyesight improving? Your pictures seem to be clearer than previously or am I mistaken?
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Your eyes have been opened !
Sam phone camera, may have accidentally cleaned the lens, probably just practice !
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Black Bull was shut for a while, just changed hands and got a recent renovation. Which in Moffat probably means it now looks like the eighties instead of the late fifties inside.
Are you sure the beer you had wasn’t Criffel?
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It was Criffel. They speak funny up there, not like us Fen folk.
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What is a fascinator? Who stole the manakin’s arms?
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Good question, both of them. I feel feathers may be involved.
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As the saying goes, feathers are OK, it only gets worrying when the entire chicken is involved.
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My wife wore a fasinator for my Sons Wedding,i thought it made her look very nice,
there were massive problems getting it out at the end of the night when i was falling over in the house and my wife did not have the faintest idea how to get it out as it was done at a salon,we laughed so much while i struggled to get it out,we both ended up on the floor as it was much safer and i eventually got it out.
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I hope that’s explained it for you, Tom.
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It hasn’t, however I found the story terrifically funny so thank you Alan.
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Mrs RM says it something to do with ladies being fed up with being called “birds” so they go the whole hog and wear feathers on their head.
Hope that helps, as they say.
My blog is nothing without Alan. And I really mean that.
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Fascinating !
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I secretly love the daft way that pubs with aspirations now invariably describe one of their bog-standard Brakes Bros menu items as “famous” or even “legendary”. They get bonus points if they’ve named it after themselves, as in “Our Legendary [name-of-pub] Burger.”
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I always thought Brake Brothers supplied upmarket food that we could not afford,we will one day get to try a Brake Brothers meal from a menu that is named after the pub we are in.
That would be a dream come true as we are not posh at all.
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Ha ! Sadly, I’ll often go for the “legendary” burger in the same way I’ll go for the chef recommendation in a curry house 😱
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Is that one of the Homepride men stood with his back to us in the bottom left hand corner.
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Yes it is, good spot
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