Actually, it’s another post about Glenrothes, but I didn’t want to scare you off. And “Flittin’ thru’ Fife” came to me, as if in a dream, as I walked through the bucolic suburbs on the way to the centre of town.
You may be surprised to see that pub No. 2, the central Spoons, is an hour’s walk from Glenrothes station.
There’s some impressive art on the way.
But if I tell you that the Golden Acorn is the architectural highpoint of central Glenrothes, you will draw your own conclusions.
Inside is your usual high table heaven/hell, but this is a surprisingly pubby Spoons, full of mid-afternoon drinkers of all ages.
The now standard Abbot/Doom/Deuchars/homebrew line-up, so again I go local and cross my fingers.
A perfectly good (NBSS 3+) Deuchars, though not a patch on the stuff being drunk by the barrel in Edinburgh 20 years ago.
The only BRAPA–standard drama came when yours truly attempted to order chicken bites on the App but put in the wrong table number (No.76 wasn’t on the drop-down menu). I then spent 15 minutes staring at table 74, where my bites turned up to the bewilderment of a table of professional drinkers and I had to retrieve them. There must be a German word for that.
I had 5 minutes to assess the town before the bus left. I was going to describe it as a Scottish Corby, but of course Corby is Scottish.
This hotel/curry combination may be the iconic shot.
On the bus, the driver told me that he was going round the houses and I’d be better off waiting five minutes for the fast coach. He was right.
And then I took the coach to Kircaldy. This was my departing view;
Nice hippos on the corner.
Next stop, Raith.