retiredmartin

Simon is in Dumfries and Galloway (rebranded to Dolce & Gabbana) this week,

attempting to tick the whole chapter in one go. What a hero.

I was stunned to hear he’d never been to Dumfries, like in the Charlene song, but then I’d never visited that great pub town until 2018, when local gentlefolk woke us up in our motorhome at 6am and made us drive on, or face serious consequences (death by Ecclefechan tart, I think).

Quite why I left the county so late is hard to figure, as with Si a lack of railway stations and cheap hotels I guess.

But, our Waterbeach garage owner Mr Nice always eulogised, and it won me over on three attacks over 2020-22. Perhaps it was the breakfast at Gather,

or the charm of towns like Gatehouse of Fleet and Kirkcudbright,

or the straggly seaside villages at Whithorn and Luce Bay.

Locals, always charming, talked of an English invasion I never really noticed; perhaps they just meant pub tickers.

Plenty of really good pubs to pick from. Here’s five…

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Dumfries – Coach and Horses

I can’t remember what first attracted me to the Coach & Horses.

Oh yes, I remember.

Bass availability seems to be a bit “variable”, but even without it you’ve got Dylan.

Old folk mixed with young, a soundtrack of The Jam and The Beat competed with Belgium v Tunisia, (“those Belgians flatter to deceive“) and cheese crisps were consumed in vast quantities (lunch).  The Landlord was as enthusiastic about his cheese (only) crisps as his Bass, always a good sign.

But I could have picked half a dozen others in Dumfries, you know.

—–

Haugh of Urr – Laurie Arms

My penultimate tick, a wonderfully little place, run by a cheery and resilient landlady who told me how they’d survived the multiple lockdowns and restrictions since 2020.

Perhaps the place most obviously “a CAMRA pub”, visited by minibuses from far and near (“the Wigtown Wobblers”).

I told her the Twa Dugs was superb, and it was (a cool 3.5), and she seemed genuinely pleased rather than bemused, and I felt guilty at ever doubting the quality of cask in Scotland.

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Stranraer – The Grapes

“I can’t understand why Stranraer lie so lowly, they could save a lot of points by signing Hibs‘ goalie” – Cap in Hand, Proclaimers

The Peterhead of the South, or the Gillingham of the North ?

Who can say ? Stranraer was as “challenging” as I’d hoped, but Loch Ryan had character,

and the lone GBG perennial was a classic.

It’s funny to visit a pub that you see in the new GBG each September for 28 years and wonder if it can be as good as in your dreams,

and find it is, from banter,

to lacings.

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St. John’s Town of Dalry – Clachan Inn

In complete contrast to Stranraer, Dalry was your quintessential ancient village, the Clare of the Galloways (is that a thing).

This looks like a destination ale pub, a bit like the Trust in Peebles , and I wondered if there was the custom to support beers that weren’t called “Tennents” round here, but the Lowland was a cool, creamy wonder (NBSS 3.5). The amiable Landlord enjoyed me counting out my £1.85 in 5p pieces.

One chap in the corner reading the Galloway Gazette nursing a pint, one Old Boy sitting at the bar enjoying the whole of Ed Sheeran’s LP, the one I can’t find the symbol for on my keyboard.

Even Ed couldn’t ruin my 20 minutes of quiet contemplation of a little classic.

—–

Sandhead – Tigh Na Mara

Great location, overlooking Luce Bay,

and a village pub struggling to meets the demands of the High Tea trade in the lounge.

Thank goodness for Dolly. I know it’s Dolly, because the dozen Old Boys in the Public Bar encouraged Dolly to pour me a pint while in the Lounge Bar all five staff wrestled with complex food orders.

She did a decent job, too, though Food Inspectors may have had some hygiene concerns in more woke authorities.

“Was the beer worth the wait ?” shouts an Old Boy.

It really was, a cool fruity 3.5, including standard 0.25 adjustment for the lick from Dolly (me, not the beer).

Over to you for a sixth. Simon may have some ideas.