57 UP

As I come towards the end of my 57th birthday, another great one, I thought you’d like to see the highlights package before I get down to doing the detailed posts.

A day of ticks, ferries, Transvision Vamp, Scotch pies, and pouring rain.

Starting in Bearsden north of Glasgow I’ve travelled to the lovely town of Paisley,

and was then escorted round the Ayrshire coast by the great Pubmeister himself.

The day kicked off with an 11am pint of Abbot at the Spoons in Kilmarnock, a town renowned world over for its display of chic mobility scooters.

From there we had the joy of an opening hours fail in Troon, but found the world’s best loo stop at Portencross Castle (not a micro).

And then too the coastal road via Largs to the ferry terminal at Gourock (pronounced Gourock) where our crossing was delayed due to “high tides”, whatever they are.

We met up with Brian, the expert on Greater Glasgow pubs, and visited the only pub for miles around at Kilcreggan, whose terminal is a doll’s house.

Back in Paisley I drank an 11% Stout, admired the lights,

and completed Greater Glasgow GBG entries with a whimper.

And then to Covid ravaged St Mirren FC, where a team of youngsters miraculously held Celtic to a goalless draw celebrated like a Champions League victory or Scilly Isle tick at full time.

No gig to end the night, no playing of “When A Child Is Born, but as Wendy James sang in the toilets at St Mirren Stadium tonight;

NB Thanks for all your birthday wishes today.

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