Ayr is a funny old place. Wonderful beaches, classic bridges,
and some of the shabbiest streets outside Carluke.
Some really smart streets south of town toward the old racecourse though, with a couple of genteel hotels in the Beer Guide for those with the energy for a walk down Racecourse Rd. Mrs RM opted to stay in the rumbustious Spoons, a wise choice.
This stretch of town is akin to Birkdale in Southport, all trees and scones and golf britches and beauty parlours.
Juney Shoo is a great name for a Shoreditch bar, of course.
I’m sure the Abbotsford Hotel should have been expecting my visit, but there was no official welcome at the door so I set off to nosey round the bar.
You may find your enjoyment of these images affected by my reflection. Bear with it.
Yes, a treat for afficionados of pub mirrors and Andy Capp cartoons, but not for lovers of banter.
With supper over by 8pm, I was all alone until management dispatched the uniformed hotel staff to attend to my peculiar needs. A half of Jarl in this case.
Copper topped tables, plush red bench seating, grapefruit edge to the Jarl, Simply Red and Genesis keeping you firmly in 1987.
Worth the £1.85 as entry to a museum piece, if not worthy of a GBG place.
And of course, that ultimate sign of refinement and gentility…