One final tick in Dumfries & Galloway, and in the county town,

on a gorgeous Summer day.

Dumfries looked splendid, if quiet, as I scrambled around looking for the Globe (High Street),

distracted by the street art with its metaphorical depiction of the stormy waters in which GBG completists sail their ticking ships. Or something.

And then it started to rain. In fact it hosed it down. I’m sure Robbie Burns had a word for it that sounds like a euphemism for something else.

I was approaching “Burns’ Favourite Howff” from the back entrance, which I’m sure Rabbie had a word for.

The Globe had defeated me with limited opening hours (down to recruitment problems, in common with much of Scotland), so I was thrilled to be able to drag myself into the darkness of the Burns room.

I was, it transpires, sodden. The young manager handed me copious blue paper towels in an attempt to prevent his pub being submerged.

I’m not THAT wet !” I protested. But I was. Or perhaps I always look like that. Anyways I was safely out of the way of the few upmarket diners that Friday lunchtime.

And it was upmarket.

“Any chance of deep fried Mars bar and chips ?”

The music came from Burns’ era, the Twa Dugs from the current day, a cool, crisp, gorgeous 3.5/4 pint.

The last tick in a county rarely disappoints.

I’m sure a Bass in the Coach & Horses wouldn’t have disappointed, either,

but a man knows his limits, as Rabbie would know.

Mrs RM has no limits, as 2 Unlimited sang, and I popped pre-emptively in the new Riverside Tap to buy her a takeout.

Can I have something strong. And Scottish“. The helpful young lady emerged from the fridge with a can.

That’s only 7% !”

Ah, I know what you need“.

Loch Lomond’s Force Dyad. Peated Islay Aged Imperial Stout. Fourteen (14) %. No words.


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