
Mrs RM said she’d divorce me if I didn’t tell THE TRUTH about the Cromarty Arms, and since I also observed that truth I have no choice but to tell it.
But I will preface this by saying, for the record, most Scots are lovely; see this post on Inverness.
But having overdosed on loveliness in Cromarty for half an hour, we were obliged to tick the eponymous GBG pub opposite the Hugh Miller Institute that contains the world-renowned collection of Pubmeister’s 19th century ticking records.

Now, the Cromarty Arms is a perfectly gorgeous Highlands boozer; unfussy, convivial, boisterous (I guess).
But sadly, that is all but naught after the Scottish “welcome” Mrs RM received after she followed the guidelines and plonked herself at the nearest table as I ordered my (dull, watery) Happy Chappie at the bar.
“EXCUSE ME ! CAN YOU NOT SIT AT A TABLE FOR SIX PLEASE !”
All the tables seemed set for six. A couple of locals who’d also sneaked in before noon opening (“Are you open ?” “Well, the door’s open, isn’t it ?”) sat sheepishly on the table for six opposite.
“Sorry, I didn’t see any smaller tables“. Neither had I. There was one, tucked behind the door. The pub was empty.
“We need the large tables for football” explained the Landlady. The next game was in five hours time, and we’d explained we were only popping in for a drink.
Mrs RM was taken aback, and suddenly we didn’t feel like staying anyway, and beat a hasty retreat. Perhaps that was the idea.
What happened to “Hello ! What can I get you ?”.
Do we look like wrong uns ? (Don’t answer that, Dave).
Mrs RM was shaken, and a little angry, and it wasn’t the only time we wondered where the welcome had gone.
Perhaps Covid had beaten it out of pubs. I do hope not.

Once again, the phrase “F*** you and f*** your pub” comes to mind. Your beer choice of Happy Chappie seems a bit ironic in the circumstances.
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My guess is they are always like that and you wonder why they go into the hospitality business. Really a strange choice to make. Seems like more than a bad day.
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Yes, they should have gone to work in a prison really.
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Terrible, but becoming more common. Similar has happened to us at least 3 times now, with the prevailing attitude of being made to feel an inconvenience. (Though not in a Highland accent, which would have been worse!) Each time the pub was no busier when we left than when we arrived.
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Complete disinterest is more common than hostility !
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inhospitable hospitality. great innit?
a fine British tradition.
You want customer service? go to America
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Have a nice day (and tip 20 %).
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A great shame, and as I’m sure you know it’s so uncommon that it stands out. It’s not as if you two don’t do the British thing and assume you’re going to do things wrong anyway. Our experience yesterday in two of Hinckleys smaller beer pubs couldn’t have been more different. In the first the bar staff insisted on rearranging all the tables they’d just put neatly out to accomodate our party of six, even when we said it didn’t matter. In the second place after we’d attempted to get round a table for four, the landlady insisted on turfing one of her regulars out of the window seating to accomodate our small party. We were of course mortified, but he didn’t mind a bit, he’s clearly used to being bossed about by the gaffer and it was all rather jolly.
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It is rare. Landlords and staff have been brilliant throughout.
But Mrs RM was snapped at for doing the exact thing we’ve been told to do. Sign in, wear a mask, sit down, await instructions.
It’s no wonder many people are choosing to give pubs a wide berth while there’s so much risk of getting told off.
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As Tony Wheeler (founder of Lonely Planet travel book), once said when talking about recommending places, “good places go bad, bad places go bust”. Its the way of business.
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