Eagle-eyed readers of this blog, of whom there won’t be many, will have noticed that the Bridge of Allan is virtually next door to Dunblane. Hurrah !
Now I’ve always wanted to visit Dunblane to pay homage to Sir Andy. As someone who once managed to hit a ball, underarm, over the tennis fence I’m well equipped to recognise the magnitude of Murray’s recent comeback win.
A gaggle of schoolchildren on Dunblane High Street giggled as I took the photo. I thought of asking them where the statue was, but they’d scarpered.
Another town in the magic 6k-9k range, meaning I needed about 10 minutes to walk the bounds.
It’s charming, making good use of the River Andy and being packed with little closes leading to
Leafy and colourful, it reminded me of those quiet Franconian towns we all love.
Someone will explain why Dunblane isn’t a city when it has a cathedral; I don’t care.
What I am interested in is what a Comfort Partner does, and is it only legal in Scotland.
It’s a town dominated by a single pub.
One of Scotland’s seemingly endless supply of ornate turn-of-century boozers, I caught this at the magic hour of five o’clock.
“Are you a CAMRA ?” asked the lovely Landlady as I ordered half a Jarl, my gold card securing that crucial 8p discount that CAMRAs demand.
A polite, civilised pub that Humphrey would approve of and probably buy up if he ever had designs on Scotland.
Almost entirely blokes, so we got a soundtrack of “Ring of fire” and “Black Velvet” and more pullovers than there are pashminas in Maidstone.
If only all Scottish pubs were this good, I thought.