My last night in Dumfries & Galloway, a revelation in terms of the scenery and some much better beer than I expected in the first week of March in Scotland.
No GBG pubs in Wigtown, but an essential visit to explore Scotland’s book town.
Smaller than Hay on Wye, but you’re less likely to bump into pashminas and Guardian readers, so a win for me.
A pretty place, two main streets of bookshops either side of a green square, both running down to the Bay.
Glaisnock House is a winner, well within my meagre budget and serving haggis and potato scones for breakfast. “It’s against the law not to serve potato scones” said the host in the morning.
Local CAMRA flag up one real ale option, two doors down from my B & B. It would have been rude not to.
Particularly as WhatPub tantalises me with that finest of BBBs.
You might look at the colourful sign and think “Young person’s venue, probably Punk IPA in bottles“. So did I.
But you’d be wrong. Half a dozen locals, all older than me.
And no Doom Bar. Instead a solitary pump with Lowland’s Rabbie’s Drought, the pouring of which caused quite a stir.
I took a seat by the magnificent fire and awaited a pint of soup.
Except it wasn’t soup. It was rich and tasty, in that satisfying 3/3.5 zone. Am I going soft ? No, I don’t think so.
I had a Galloway burger as well (haggis on beef) and undid the good work of three day’s exercise, but as I enjoyed Van Morrison’s “Domino” and was drawn into a conversation about Hartlepool and monkeys (don’t ask) I suddenly thought Proper Pub.
A couple came in and ordered a half with a straw. The bar filled with Geordie and Yorkshire accents, discussing the Tuesday chip van’s faulty jet fryer.
“Men always have problems with their jets” It was that sort of pub.
Another couple debated sending one of them on a rescue mission to Newton Stewart, 15 minutes away, to bring back kebabs.
“Garlic parmesan ? What’s that ?” said a lady discovering as if for the first time the joys of a big town’s takeaway menu.
Wigtown gets its own chippy this month. I reckon that might be the final piece in the jigsaw of a great little town, and I’ll pop back in for the battered haggis when I return to finish D & G. Look how lovely it is.