Mrs RM said she was bored of pubs.
“I’m bored of pubs” she said.
But, as we headed for Glencoe, an hour from Oban, it struck me that apart from admiring the scenery (difficult when you’re on your phone) or walking the hills (unappealing if it’s raining) there’s only really pubs and tea shops to do, and we’d done the tea shop at Ben Lora with its Dylan and scones.
And so with Glen Coe, whose eponymous settlement will detain you for about as long as BRAPA takes to tick a Brunning & Price in Surrey, unless you walk the Pap.
I’d have happily walked the 2.3 miles to the GBG Clachaig, which clearly isn’t in The Village itself.
But instead Mrs RM parked up in what looked like a ranch in Wyoming and let Baa Baa enjoy the views.
A plain looking building which as retained a civilised atmosphere over the years by banning reader Scott of the Grampians.
Actually, we seemed to be banned from the interior,
and directed towards an outdoor serving hatch where we ordered and collected a half of Glen Spean Red Revival.
If the view was a 4.5, the Red Revival (contract brewed in Heckmondwike ?) was a solid 2.5. I say “solid” to tell you that 2.5 was by now regarded as good for Scotland.
The banter came from confused tourists, wondering what had happened to table service and ignoring the buzzer that rang when their food was ready.
But everyone was cheery, the group from Hurst Green (“Hello, Hello”) hugged and kissed, and we briefly considered the climb.