The mid-June posts continue as we head towards Bass Rock, the fount of eternal youth, possibly.
This trip was targeting the Lothians, the posh Tory-voting stretch between Berwick North and the English border.
The farming villages (see : East Linton) round here are gorgeous and underrated, and Gifford in the parish of Yester is stunning, despite the rare absence of the sun when we arrive.
A classic town hall,
and the Goblin Ha’ Hotel, one of the great pub names along with “Pelican In Her Piety” and “Pub”.
But it’s not the Goblin in the Guide, it’s the Tweeddale Arms.
It’ll be posh, won’t it ? They’ll ask me if I’m dining, won’t they ? They’ll call me “Sir”.
It’s wonderfully local boozer, the landlord Old School, the bar cluttered and charity boxes and bottles of coins; only the appearance of Summer Lightning seems out of place. It reminds me a lot of the unexpectedly unfussy Traquair at Innerleithen.
I’m torn between walking round staring at Younger’s adverts and sitting down. As BRAPA knows, always best to sit and observe and chip in.
Blokes with baseball caps come and go, appointments with kebabs in Haddington are made, Bruno Brookes plays the 1981 classics;
More beer from Stewart, this time the Ka Pai which is just cool and rich enough for a 3. If I find a spare month I’ll upload 563 NBSS scores.
But you know I won’t.