Time to move from the mediocre to the type of pub where you depart with a confused smile on your face and breathe 'not too bad really!' , have a little yawn and toddle off. And I'll take that every day of the week.
24. Drovers Inn, Memus (visited Tuesday 12th September, 12:45pm)
It wouldn't be a proper BRAPA holiday without at least one bonkers walk, and leaving Kirriemuir uphill into the suburb of Northmuir, along the perimeter of the golf course, through the one house village of Drumclune, over the South Esk at Shielhill bridge (above), down a lane passing a zillion tractors, and the pub appears on my right. 4.9 miles only? It felt at least 6.5. I've done worse. And I'm just relieved it is open. Nice barmaidly banter about card machines which struggle in rural areas. Too warm and bland indoors to rub shoulders with the yellow sports car crab eating gang who pass me each way (offer me a lift next time eh guys?), so we sit on the perfectly manicured lawn, sup a top quality pint of 'Mor Scode' , smile at an old witch and have a long conversation with Colin re psyching ourselves up for the long walk back.
23. Corn Exchange, Arbroath (visited Sunday 12th September 8:10pm)
My quest to drink Scottish ale in every pub this holiday was in tatters at the end of day two, but at least this Welsh one meant I could revise it to 'Celtic Ale Challenge'. CAC. Apt? Did I achieve it? Depends where Heverlee lager is ACTUALLY brewed, think Reading is more likely than Bruges. A dank, moist, bible black Arbroath debut is not how I'd pictured arriving in this romantic sounding Scottish town. No, I'd imagined myself nibbling a Smokie overlooking a pretty harbour at 10:30am before hitting the 'Spoons 11am, but the BRAPA pub order sometimes comes as a complete surprise to even me! With the possible exception of a furry faced pizza delivery boy giving Colin a good hard stare, this was contented uneventful Spoonsing, rare to hit them late at night, but I sort of enjoy it more when I do.
22. Harbour Bar, Gourdon (visited Sunday 10th September, 5:30pm)
A rare foray into Grampian, it was a case of 'can I be arsed?' as afternoon became evening, but being on the Montrose to Stonehaven road, it seemed to be a case of 'I won't get many better opportunities'. A walk downhill into this cheerful (honest!) fishing village, this small inn had a modicum of olde worlde atmosphere, although I felt exposed on my shallow corner bench seating, especially once the barmaid had looked up at the wrong moment and probably thought 'who's this weirdo' but hopefully the sight of Colin and my happy limited 'bantz' was of great reassurance! Blind fisherman over blind Sooty? That's when you know you're on the Scottish coast. A few locals blocking the way to the loo pretend they are interested in the rugby, but the glowing Stabilo Slushie machines seem to be the true focal point. One bloke with a fat tummy is forced to breathe in and makes out that I'm the problem! A kind but short landlady appears, struggling to reach the half glasses above her head. "No one normally orders halves so it isn't a problem!" she complains. She's obviously not had my fellow tickers in recently!
21. Cherrybank Inn, Perth (visited Tuesday 12th September 6:30pm)
Has a pub's colour scheme ever been so at odds with the people who frequent it? That's my abiding memory of what should probably nicknamed the 'Cheerybank' on the wrong side of Perth. A unique shape, sunk slightly below road level, it was a shame to see such a grey interior. Like blanket grey apart from some St Johnstone players on a wall mural who's shirts had been coloured blue. "Shut the door ya wanker ..... ooops, sorry not you mate!" is the first thing I hear. About the only thing aquarium shirted dude says to me which I can understand. The barmaid keeps sqauawking and gesturing. I can't tell whether she's stressed, exasperated or just really loving her job. All I can do is smile and laugh. £10 card minimum, as my decent Orkney Northern Light is pulled into a lager vase. "Aye, buy two pints and ye don't have to worry, that's what I do!" says our tropical friend in a rare moment of clarity, but £5 a pint, didn't feel prices like that should've reached this part of Perth just yet? I sit in an area reserved for 'Smith' from 7:15pm. I don't realise at the time, but Scotland v England is on soon, typical BRAPA luck! The Smith lads arrive about 6:45pm, and block me in, but they say me & Col are welcome to stay as long as we want which is nice, but as the Proclaimers sang, I'm on mi way.
20. Market Arms, Montrose (visited Sunday 10th September, 1:10pm)
I arrive in Montrose with a topless man in tow. "Warm day isn't it?" he says as we wait for the train door to open. It is never THAT warm, anywhere, certainly not in Montrose. But I'm too scared to say. He smells funny. As I wait for the bus to Brechin, he's chased across the station forecourt and a bottle of wine is wrestled off his person. "Aye, he's nicked it from the supermarket over there!" a friendly square headed yoof, also Brechin bound, tells me. He obviously has a CCTV app on his phone to make such a bold statement from our restricted vantage point. Anyway, back in Montrose an hour later, it's a lot calmer. Especially in this glimmering, shimmering hotel bar. Incredibly Scottish. My Ossian is a tad watery, a pungent Guinness drinker in a yellow raincoat sits a bit too close, but it definitely has a bit of class this place, trust me, just can't work out if my photo does it justice.
19. Marine Hotel, Stonehaven (visited Sunday 10th September, 2:20pm)
And following directly on from Montrose, my Stonehaven debut follows and this was my favourite of the two GBG pubs in town. Am pretty sure the chirpy craft barman was a character being played by David Tennant, he's all sweetness and shite until I venture that I once visited Six Degrees North bar in Aberdeen. "Doesn't exist!" he snaps. "Oh well, I am talking about 2015" I clarify. "Well it isn't there now!" Craft beer Fight Club? Or just an unwillingness to accept that historical events are relevant? A gorgeous pint anyway, enjoyed on the safety of the back wall. Putin takes time out from his Ukraine operative by lifting the lid off his pie, turning it into a stew bowl. Crime against humanity in my book. Lovely long green bench, in peaceful surroundings because the majority of customers believe that the sun is shining and there is a harbourside view to stare at, an ancient pub law decrees that this is what you must do, even if it means giving yourself piles on a jagged wall.
18. Golden Acorn, Glenrothes (visited Friday 15th September, 5:30pm)
Nice not to be the only one with a funky pub mascot! My holiday ended here in Glenrothes Wetherspoons. And, as it turned out, this would be the final time I'd wield the green Stabilo on the 2023 GBG, although I knew by now, this pub was locked in for 2024 too. I reckon Scotland must be a decent place for 'lack of churn' and I'm determined to get back at least once in 2024. Suddenly, perched up on my posing stool, observing 'all life' (and it was busy in here, rain piddling it down outside), a wave of contented lethargy hits me hard. A tough holiday but a job well done. Burns Tavern at Leslie? Suddenly didn't have the motivation. Great pint. We've all heard of a 'Glasgow Kiss' but what is a 'Glasgow Cross'? A mild Weegie annoyance? Carpet is a fantastic 8.5/10. A pink lady keeps getting called back to the bar because her card declines twice. She's got an ever increasingly full mouth of chicken. Barmaid rolls her eyes and grumbles "I despair" to me. The 'W' was missing off the sign outside, meaning we were in 'Etherspoons, which seemed apt.
17. Atholl Arms Hotel, Blair Atholl (visited Monday 11th September 12:45pm)
The summer holidays may have been over for the UK schoolkids, but that didn't stop international types clogging up the northerly climes of Scotland their tourist blocking ways. The Perth - Aviemore train was hellish, stuck with a coach party bound for Inverness. I got wedged in with a couple and their teenage son from Hyderabad, who decided it was lunchtime and started opening bags of crispie things and packets of gooey stuff and mixing them into a massive bowl. Delighted when the train stops at Blair Atholl, one of only four all day but I'm still the only one 'alighting'. The imposing castle-esque hotel has a tight low beamed entrance called 'The Bothy Bar'. It is crazy posh verging on snooty, I'm greeted with an uncomfortable reverence for a scruffpot who just wants a pint. The Old Remedial stout from Moulin brewery is strong, sweet liquorice, one of the finest all holiday. The bar is a cosy, relaxed place playing gentle Scottish Highland piped anthems. Mr Snooty occasionally peers at me over his raised nostrils. I have to beg to pay now, and not risk 'losing him' later on in what felt peak Covid era. A rare Pitlochry bus leaves in 30 mins prompt and I cannot afford to miss it! Two locals come in for drinks and are given the sort of rugged no nonsense reception I'd been crying out for. At the bus stop, I'm delighted to see plenty of other people waiting, and it arrives on time, such relief.
Thanks for reading, see you on Sunday night for part 4. We're getting to the quite good pubs now.
Si
