My notes don’t record a lunch stop, so I fear we just ate crisps (whether plain cheese or something less exotic) in Dumfries that afternoon. It may account for later grumpiness.
These posts are compiled by me uploading photos and going “aha” (not the Norwegian one), but the one below took a while to figure out.
It was here in Tracy’s in 1995 that I had a Scottish haircut, memorable only because the £4 I was charged was a quid more than the locals were being taken for. Perhaps they had Wetherspoons vouchers. Clearly nothing has changed in the styling in 23 years, except my own flowing locks.
We pressed on, noting that the best looking pubs were the ones not in the Guide. This one had Fosters for £2.20, which is cheaper than the Rifle Drum.
Nothing much has changed in Dumfries in decades, by the look of it. I’ve no idea what these bottles are, though Mrs RM was taken by the Penny Blue.
Outside the Tam O’ Shanter, classic pub No.2, we attracted our first “helpful local”.
“You’ll be wanting to see the statue of Robbie Burns”
I’d seen it. You can’t miss it.
“Is that the one with a pigeon on his head ?”
“Oh, no, a pigeon wouldn’t do that“. Cue extravagant directions for a statue approximately 50 yards away.
We ducked into the Tam O’Shanter, a real boozer. Broughton beers, tracksuits, bored dogs, crutches. What more could you want.
But with elbows at the bar, and blokes round the walls, Mrs RM shot off into the pool room to look for power sockets.
Look closely and you’ll see a painting of Robbie Burns in the style of Che Guevara.
I think the search for sockets must have been fruitless, as even more crisps couldn’t cheer Mrs RM up. What do women want if not warm brown beers ?