KILLIN IN THE NAME OF…

Not for the first time, Duncan Mackay got there first.

But where his marvellous post on Killin riffs on the Fugees Roberta, I looked to a slightly edgier classic.

As Duncan writes, Killin is beautifully situated for ticks across Lomond & the Trossachs and a couple of outliers on Tayside, though as regular readers will know the Ben Lawers refused to serve me till 8pm unless I was eating so that one had to wait till toward the end of the quest.

Duncan’s forte is wit, insight and brevity, so sadly you don’t get a picture of him in swimming trunks paddling in the Falls of Dochart*, which had attracted a diverse range of visitors from the central belt.

There were signs for the Killin Highland Games, and I fancied a go at “Tossing the completed Good Beer Guide” but sadly I was out of condition after a haggis supper the night before.

The Capercaille looked fun, but of course the GBG doesn’t like fun, and my actual tick was more formal. Good pun, though.

Duncan had already told me a pint in the Courie cost £5.50, so I was able to have £2.75 for my own half of the lone Jarl decanted from my moth-eaten wallet into my grubby right hand, to the delight of the chatty landlord.

Pleasant small hotel (that’s 80% of the GBG entries outside the cities), but why waste the sunshine ?

OK, the clouds. A lovely Jarl, cool and rich (NBSS 3.5). The photos don’t lie.

As Zach de la Rocha memorably sings on the UK’s 2009 Christmas Number 1**,

“Uh!
Yeah!
Come on!
Uh! “

*Not even for Patronised readers

**Yes, it really was

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