Brodies is a restaurant, come wine bar, come gin bar, come coffee house. And, for us, a great
discovery. It is situated in lovely Moffat, an old spa town with a huge main street and lots of elegant Victorian buildings. We’re not here to admire the architecture however. Rather we are on a sort of pilgrimage. Much like the one we did some time ago trying to track down a Polynesian Princess in Buckhaven. Again, the catalyst was one of our favourite authors, R B Cunninghame Graham.
This time it was his short story “Beattock for Moffat”. In it he tells the tale, set around 1920, of Andra, and his attempt to get back from London to his farm in Moffat, to die. His brother, Jock, had somewhat reluctantly left tending his turnips to go and collect his brother. Accompanied by Andra’s cockney wife Jean, the reader is treated to a trip through a moonlit sleeping England on the night train from Euston.
Conversation between the three characters is sparse. Andra is very frail, his sole aim is to reach Moffat while he still has a breath in his body. Jean, in her English way, consoles her husband. “Why yuss, in eight days at Moffat, you’ll be as ‘earty as you ever was. Yuss, you will, you take my word.” Whereas Jock, in the typically Scottish way, tells Andra “ye ken, we’ve got a brand new hearse outby, sort of Epescopalian lookin’ we gless a’ round, so’s ye can see the kist“. The dying man takes more comfort from Jock’s attempts than his wife’s.
Beattock for Moffat
Eventually they arrive at Beattock, the nearest station to Moffat, where they carry Andra to the platform. When the train doors are banged shut the guard shouts “Beattock, Beatock for Moffat“. Andra smiled and whispered faintly in his brother’s ear “Aye, Beattock – for Moffat?” … and died. Today the trains don’t stop at Beattock but we had heard that there was a campaign underway to have it reopened so we thought we should go and have a look at where Andra spent his last mortal moments. We had not bargained on the fact that the station had long since been demolished and even the locals were unsure where it had once been located. It was a sorry sight when we eventually found it. Tucked away down a narrow lane behind an old blacksmith’s smiddy. Walking around, we did feel closer to Andra and his struggle.
Last journey
Those of you who have spent time looking for non-existent railway stations will know that it is not long before a cuppa and a scone is required. We traced Andra’s last journey from Beattock over the couple of miles to Moffat and that’s how we ended up here at Brodies. 
Back to the neeps
It really is a great venue for Moffat. Some of the other eateries in town can look a wee bit tired. This one, however, has a beautifully appointed restaurant and a very comfortable lounge area. Before long we had the last two fruit scones resplendent in front of us. Complete with nice crockery and generous portions of jam and cream. The butter came in a butter dish, no prepackaged stuff here! 
Someone must have told them how we like our scones because they were just right. Crunchy on the outside and beautifully soft in the middle … but you all know that by now! We ate them thinking of Andra’s hurl in the new hearse and wondering if Jock went straight back to his turnips.
We are always impressed by Cunninghame Graham’s powers of observation. It was him, after all, who noted. “The enemies of Scottish Independence lie not with the English, a kind and generous people, but with those in Scotland without imagination”. 
DG10 9EB tel: 01683 222870 Brodies
ps The man who enabled Amazon to deliver parcels on time and for the world in general to make appointments and produce reliable timetables, came from Moffat. We visited his grave. Oddly enough the church yard has a beautifully smooth tarmacadam path leading through the headstones but not to the one belonging to its inventor, John MacAdam. You have to tramp through a lot of long wet grass to get to it. He died here in 1836.
