The Scottish Tickathon heads west now, towards Glasgow and one of those places that Scots pronounce wrongly to humiliate visiting English pub men.
Milngavie is clearly pronounced “Miln-gar-vey” like the Elbow frontman, but oh no, it’s “Mul-guy” apparently, like the the Elbow frontman.
There’s two identical Premier Inns a few yards apart a mile south of Milngavie station, and the one just into Bearsden is £3 cheaper because it’s not technically in this famed town an the start of the West Highland Way.
Having vaguely recalled Milngavie as akin to Kendal, it’s a bit of a shock to find it deserted later on, more akin to Haverhill.
And I don’t remember the 3D cakes from 2001, either.
I’d booked the Bearsden Premier Inn for the night that will take me into my 57th birthday if I survive the night, and when you realise this is what I ate later (NCTSS 3) from Wutong (not Clan) you may wonder how I survived.
20 years ago the sole cask place in town was a Tetley Heritage pub, but that’s been replaced by the micro-brewery at the station where Pubmeister took a tick in atrocious weather when outside drinking was all the rage.
Jaw Brew clearly serve as the café for the station with a tempting collection of mince pies and tiffins that I resist as I’m saving myself for the crispy beef later.
Lots of keg, one cask. Resist the brownies, resist !
I’ve got 14 minutes till the train to Helensburgh, enough for a half of cask and and a half of the keg stout, surely ?
14 minutes of chilled-out indie while an earnest discussion about brewing takes place at the bar. Why do people feel obliged to discuss the mechanics of beer when they visit these breweries ? I never ask the Chinese takeaway what’s in the crispy beef ?
Well, I get through the Drop easy enough (NBSS 3), but really struggle with an overchilled keg that takes me to within 2 minutes of the train doors closing before I force it down. The difference in temperature between cask and keg must be about 10 degrees.
My stomach hates me all the way to Anniesland.