Loads more of this stuff from Aberdeen and around. I hope you’re following on your own giant World wall chart at home.
Arriving back in Aberdeen at 3.45pm on Day 1 of 3, I thought I’d better make a start on the four city newbies in the Guide.
Can you guess what it is yet ?
A second Spoons in Aberdeen, the Justice Mill is a very poor relation of the Archibald Simpson, both architecturally and in terms of boisterousness.
A quarter full, hardly any diners (and there’s ALWAYS someone eating a burger at 3.47pm in every other Spoons), Punk at £2.99, more Irn-Bru than cask sold.
The Broughton was cheap but a bit soapy; a pint of Deuchars with voucher would have been £1.29 but I didn’t see anyone convinced by that either.
Only two things of note. The local constabulary responded to a call-out about trouble at the Spoons, possibly the one in Peterhead, as the only I saw was when a lady berated her bloke for not getting off his phone. Perhaps that’s a felony up here. Or perhaps they thought BRAPA was in town.
And talking of phones, someone then instigated a full search as they’d left their mobile on Table 47. No luck; it would no doubt turn up at the bottom of her Primark handbag later.
I had a couple of hours before Mrs RM finished her IT doings, so I walked to Footdee, or Fitty, or whatever.
The Fittie is the old fishing village part of Aberdeen I really warmed to in the June sun a decade ago. No obvious pubs, but some gorgeous street art on the way.
Half an hour down along the docks and what I hope was the Red Light area (the alternative explanations are worse) before you join a few Japanese tourists at the Fittie.
I’m kinda delighted the Fittie is unchanging. No Brew Dog, no espresso bar, no weaving classes for hipsters. Just a network of little lanes of compact houses and colourful sheds, the sort retiredmartin will no doubt retire to when they build a fishing village in Preston.
I walked back along the sea wall in the direction of Pittodrie, admiring the beach and dreaming of a visit to a distant Peterhead.
Nothing much to actually do, but life isn’t all pubs and Chinese takeaways, you know.
I often tell Mrs RM that while in a sentimental mood.