WE’RE GOING TO KIL-MARTIN

The crawl round the Argyll peninsulas (thanks Mrs RM) takes in half a dozen seemingly identical hotels varying only in vintage, brand of hand wash and the age of the Jarl being served.

20 minutes after Cairnbaan we pulled up in the worrying sounding Kilmartin.

That’s not our new campervan there, by the church.

Kilmartin has, for obvious reasons, long seemed an essential visit. I was excited by the chance to examine of the UK’s best collection of Neolithic remains, but luckily unfortunately Mrs RM felt a drop of rain and we had to head straight for the pub. Mrs RM has since said “she’s fed up of pubs” but I wonder what else there is to do in Argyll bar eating langoustines and lounging about around stones.

I did get a shot of the ancient football pitch for Duncan though.

Let’s face it, it’s worth travelling 352 miles just for that font on the hotel.

One thing in Scotland’s favour; the pubs are generally open.

The locals, all programmed to Kill-Martin, gave me a stare. Or perhaps, like me, they were trying to identify the early-90s soundtrack. Shania Twain or the Corrs ?

Luckily for Mrs RM this turned out to be one of the friendliest pubs on the epic trip, full of cheery locals and standing stones students (?).

I succumbed to a cool pint of Jarl here (NBSS 3). Sadly the Belhaven glass is no Doom Bar, but I think you’ll agree the lacings are retiredmartin-worthy.

A tiny place, really, with a few ladies-who-lunch having that argument that us pub tickers most love;

NO CAROL, you’re NOT paying for it !”

I am also now an expert on the arrangements for Paula’s birthday party, a joint affair in Ealing, and may gate-crash it if I can find a suitable pub to visit in West London.

Outside in the graveyard I searched for evidence of a multitude of murdered Martins.

But it was all Scotts and Duncans and Kirstys.

15 thoughts on “WE’RE GOING TO KIL-MARTIN

  1. Clever use of the word Kil there Martin, a word that CAMRA’s use all the time in newsletters but nobody knows the meaning of outside of the Draymen’s Guild. This marks you out as a proper Beer Man.

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  2. The fossilized remains of all the dead Martins are interred in a hidden vault under the Corryvreckan Lighthouse.

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  3. Good goalposts. Jarl is wonderful when served fresh but has a short shelf-life and quickly loses that zinging citrus flavour. If pubs have it on for a few days it’s not going to be very good, so glad you had a decent one here. The other brewery on the bar, Loch Lomond, is also one of the best.

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  4. It was slightly less sinister than that – the local neolithic plant pot manufacturer was given a prophecy that all his work would be desecrated by an itinerant “Martin”; thus he paid handsomely such that all Martins who came within a 10 mile radius of his workshop were forced to change their name to either Scott, Duncan or Kirsty.

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    1. And on dark, stormy winter nights, folk sit by peat fires and give thanks for their deliverance from the dreaded Martin. Kirsty polishes her curling stone and thinks dark thoughts of vengeance…

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  5. We went to Kilmartin in 1996. Maybe we can get the English FA to sponsor a joint trip in 2046? After all, it can’t be coincidence, can it?

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  6. I’m jealous – you are doing better in Argyll than I am doing in Plymouth – 2 out of 11 entries with no cask and I doubt Vessel Beer Shop ever did. Made it into Fawn Members Club though. Eggbuckland is worthy of a separate title on name alone never mind distance from city centre.

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      1. Not the first time and won’t be the last, but I’m wondering how Plymouth choose their pubs based on the non-GBG places I’ve been to.

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      2. You’re right, it isn’t – had a fine pint there while the Lord High Admiral round the corner had no cask, and the Vine by the ferry has an excellent single Jail Ale on. I’m sure they will say covid is the reason, so see what next year brings? I’ve submitted scores for those 3 via the app.

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