Sometimes people say things like “you fairly get around, don’t you” and we’re never quite sure whether it’s congratulatory or accusatory. We kind of know what they mean but it just doesn’t seem that way to us. As if to amplify the point, however, our previous post from Dnisi in Kirkintilloch is now followed by this one from Bakearoma – Bakery & Coffee Lounge in the Australian outback. Yes, today we are posting from the town of Roma in Western Queensland. Of course, Pat and I are not actually there but luckily our Toowoomba correspondents are.
Driving
Aussies can be pretty disparaging about us northerners – we’re talking hemispheres! They reckon we are too wimpish to bother driving almost three hundred miles for a scone. Apparently it’s no trouble to Aussies! They are forgetting, of course, that we just have more sense! For us to drive three hundred miles we would end up on the outskirts of London having negotiated intense traffic round major cities like Manchester and Birmingham. And it would take around seven or eight rainy hours.
They, on the other hand, can probably drive in a straight sunny line from Toowoomba to Roma with barely any traffic and just the odd kangaroo hopping alongside past the occasional billabong. And, with cruise control the whole way, they would be there before they could finish singing Waltzing Matilda! Okay, okay, we’ve never been to Australia and for all we know there could be a bend somewhere in the road.
What’s in a name?
We thought Roma, population 7,000 and established in 1867 (‘yesterday’ to us northerners) would have been named by a homesick Italian immigrant. Seems obvious but it’s actually commemorating the Greek wife of an Irishman. Her name was Lady Diamantina Roma Bowen, wife of Sir George Bowen.
Seriously though, we are deeply indebted to our correspondents for their sconological endeavours down under. And we don’t mean to scoff at their sense of history … not really! In their own words:
“Well, there is a lot of history out there, again, not by northern hemisphere standards, however, Roma has the distinction of being the first town gazetted in the new colony of Queensland. By 1864 it had its own court of petty sessions, a police station, doctor, chemist, and postmaster. The town was connected by telegraph to Dalby and Brisbane in 1866. So, there is history there! Nowadays Roma is known for its strong agricultural sector, including beef and crop production. It is home to the country’s largest cattle sale yards.
Roma is also known as the birthplace of Australia’s Oil and Gas industry. All this and more! The meat pies at the local bakery can’t be bettered, however….the scones.. afraid they would not pass the Pat and Bill Paterson’s high standards, despite the fact they come accompanied by a generous slice of carrot cake! Had our scones and drove the four hours home. Will do it again without hesitation!!
Maintaining sylph-like figures
Thank goodness every scone doesn’t come with a slice of carrot cake. Our waistlines would be even more under threat! We should finish off with some comment on Australian politics. However, apart from knowing that it has to be better than here in the UK, where we are currently being lectured on illegality and human rights by Rwanda,, we don’t know enough about it. Mind you that’s never stopped us commenting on things before!
Our only wish is that the next time our correspondents set off looking for a scone they don’t stop at Roma and just carry on to Falkirk! Can’t promise carrot cake though.
This post is a little bit different. It’s not so much about a scone but a scone recipe. The Major A A Gordon Society may sound like somewhere you might go for an upmarket afternoon tea but it’s not. Or if it was it would be in Antwerp and we are definitely not there. Let us explain!
Obviously attentive readers will remember mention of the Major A A Gordon Society in the Wee Timorous Beastie post back in June. Initially the Society got in touch because they had read one of our posts from 2015 about the Scotch Tea House in Nice on the Côte d’Azure. They wanted to know if it was the same “Scottish Teahouse” Major Gordon had visited back in 1939. So far we have been unable to provide a definitive answer but are pretty sure that it is.
So in a way, our’s and Major Gordon’ s paths have crossed. When we were there the tearoom looked very Victorian and we speculated that it was there because Queen Victoria spent a few months every year in Nice and loved everything “Scottish’`. And it looked as if it had not changed in the last one hundred years. Who knows, we may have even sat at the same table as Queen Victoria or Major Gordon?
Major Gordon’s family home in Bridge of Allan
Major Gordon was from Bridge of Allan here in Scotland but is largely unknown here. In Belgium, however, it is a different story. He is a celebrated war hero because of his courageous actions during the Siege of Antwerp in 1914, Suffice to say, serendipity and scones seem to have coalesced in a way that means that Pat and I now do research on the Society’s behalf here in Scotland.
Recipes
As part of the exchange of correspondence they sent us pictures of the cookbook Major Gordon wrote around 120 years ago. They thought we would be interested in the scone recipe.
Turns out Major Gordon was a bit of a sconey … there were several recipes
Innovating
Anyway, one day Pat decided to try and bring one of the recipes to life. There were problems however, we didn’t have any “buttermilk”. We didn’t even know what it was! When we looked it up it seemed to come in powdered form. Pat improvised with some self-raising flour and a pinch of sugar. Suffice to say the results, with homemade jam and whipped cream, were rather good. We have now discovered that buttermilk can be made simply by adding vinegar to milk to make it curdle. Think we’ll leave that for the time being!
You just never know
We sent the pictures off to Belgium and within days they appeared in the November Issue of the Society’s newsletter. They have also made Pat and I and my sister, who has been researching the Scotch Tearoom in Nice, honorary members. You see you just never know where the simple act of eating a scone will lead. We are, of course delighted and delighted to continue helping the Society in any way we can.
Best laid plans
Back in June in the post from the Timorous Beastie Cafe we referred to the poem “To A Mouse” by Robert Burns. The timorous beastie was a mouse and Burns had just destroyed its nest with his plough. It made him reflect on life and its unpredictability. “The best-laid schemes o’ mice an’ men / Gang aft agley.” He apologises to the mouse and for the general tyranny of man. With everything going on in the world and now the imbecilic riots in Dublin last night you might think that man should have progressed a wee bit since Burns’s day. It would appear not! Thank goodness for scones!
Readers know by now that we are indebted to our foreign correspondents for much of our global sconology. This post is typical. Our Bathurst correspondents from New South Wales are regular contributors and thave sent us an account of their road trip to Alice Springs to visit their son’s family. The last time we saw them was back in April when they visited their daughter in St Andrews and we were on our way to Kingsbarns distillery.
Rendezvous with our Bathurst correspondents at Rufflets, St Andrews
After leaving Alice Springs our intrepid correspondents opted for the long way round through Queensland and by the time they reached Roses n Things they had covered 8000km. Everything is relative! We think Inverness is quite far away but if we covered that sort of distance it would take us to somewhere near the coast of China looking out towards Japan. Aussies, however seem to take this sort of stuff in their stride.
In their own words
“One of the highlights of the return trip was a visit to the town of Barcaldine, so named after your Barcaldine in Scotland. Apparently, one of the first settlers was Donald Charles Cameron, a direct descendent of the Campbells of Barcaldine Castle. Why a Cameron was a descendant of the Campbells. I know not.
The Barcaldine Tree of Knowledge. We think this may be the one the Tory government in the UK is consulting at the moment
Our Barcaldine is famous as the birthplace of the Australian Labour Party, formed during the 1891 sheep shearers strike. The shearers met under a large ghost gum tree, now known as The Tree of Knowledge. Unfortunately, the tree was poisoned in 2006 by persons unknown, suspected to be Conservative sympathizers. The dead tree is now the focal point of a large wooden monument.”
But what of scones I hear you ask ? Well, the Barcaldine caravan park, at which we stayed, had attached to it a cafe called Roses ‘n’ Things Tea Garden. A bit of a mouth full, as were the scones we had for breakfast. Possibly not a top scone, but not far from it.”
Ghosts
The Australian and Scottish Barcaldines have much in common when it comes to ghosts. The Aussie town is famous for it’s haunted Shakespeare Hotel. It’s ghosts, however, don’t sound like a match for the Scottish versions. The angry ghost of Donald Campbell roams Barcaldine Castle endlessly searching for his murderer. And Duncan Campbell, or Black Duncan of Barcaldine Castle, wasn’t exactly the perfect mine host. In case anyone should imagine he was going a bit soft in his old age he installed a bottle dungeon, a hanging tree and a beheading pit. He also had a large WELCOME mat at the door! No he didn’t, we made that up!
Forbidden
The original Tree of Knowledge, of course, was in the Garden of Eden where our ancestors Adam and Eve lived beautiful innocent lives. On the tree was the Forbidden Fruit which they were not even allowed to touch because it contained the knowledge of good and evil. Typically perhaps Eve couldn’t resist and even managed to persuade Adam to take a bite as well. Goodness, just think what the world would be like today if Eve hadn’t been so tempted?
Many thanks A&J, hopefully we can meet up again on your next visit to Scotland.
Our previous post from the Wee Bear Café was a bit unusual because it took me back to my roots in Glenisla. This post from Mulberries Coffee Shop in Kirkcudbright (pronounced kir-coo-bree) is unusual as well but for a different reason … I don’t have my trusty sconey partner with me. Instead of Pat I have my brother and two old friends. I use ‘old’ in every sense of the word. If this post seems like an episode of Last of the Summer Wine it wouldn’t be too far off the mark.
One is the Laird a valued correspondent for many years who has a slightly different slant on sconology. The other is a mere sapling, Young enough to still dabble in stuff called work and still able to walk unaided. The rest of us were relying on him to dig us out of any holes we might very easily fall into. Between the four of us we had the makings of at least one good physical specimen. I’m in good hands although, come to think of it, I never asked about their hands!
View along the street from Mulberries towards MacLellan’s Castle in the distance
Jobs?
The town’s name derives from “Chapel of St Cuthbert” that was demolished in the the early 1500s. Sir Thomas MacLellan subsequently used the stones to build MacLellan’s Castle, How did he get away with that you might ask? Well, we don’t know but in 1580 he was appointed as “gentleman in the bedchamber” to King James VI. Didn’t even know that was a job so we’ll say no more!
The bar at the Wee Bear
It’s a town full of creatives and is commonly known as the “The Artist’s Town”. We were on a mission to examine future potentials of a narrow strip of woodland my brother has. It runs along the west coast of Kirkcudbright Bay for about three miles. Before we got to the wood, however, we stopped in the town to get some supplies and, lo and behold, we were outside Mulberries Coffee Shop. It was beckoning!
Just as well they allow non-creatives into town because within two shakes of a lamb’s tail we were in Mulberries destroying their scones. And very nice they were too. Quite big but with a goodly amount of fruit and lots of jam and cream. The cream was presented Mr Wippy style.
Uncategorised
The Laird, who I mentioned earlier had a different slant on sconology and everything else come to that, proceeded to put jam on his cheese scone. Mon dieu! Pat and I normally regard cheese scones as ‘butter only’ affairs so I was thankful that Pat wasn’t present to witness this abomination. He seemed to thoroughly enjoy it though so maybe Pat and I should just chillax? However, having thought about it for a nanosecond … it’s an abomination! So, enjoyable as they were, considering the poor judgment of my companions and Pat’s absence these scones, for the moment, would have to remain ‘uncategorised’.
One of the beaches in Senwick Woods looking over Kirkcudbright Bay
Good news
Lawrence of Arabia spent some of his formative years in Kirkcudbright. He may even have sparked his sense of adventure in Senwick Woods. A bit of a leap perhaps but we had a definite sense of adventure heading into the woods and stumbling on ancient dry-stone moss covered walls and little deserted beaches. There are ravens, red kites and red squirrels here as well as badgers and lots of roe deer. The highpoint, however, was when we came across this little Meadow Brown butterfly. Seeing a brown butterfly represents new beginnings and a sign that you are about to get good news. It could be anything! At this moment, as far as the four of us are concerned, a cure for decrepitude would be joyous news indeed.
Not sure if anything was decided on future plans for the wood but I am sure we had a fab day. The four of us sat on a log looking over to the Lake District talking about family and the ways of the world. Amongst our wide ranging discussions one thing surprised me greatly. One of my companion’s friends, an atheist, was about to graduate with a Degree in Theology. I was astounded! It had never before occurred to me that that could … or would happen. Thinking about it now, of course, it’s perfectly logical … unlike jam on a cheese scone!
This post from Helensbank is a little bit different from our usual. It doesn’t involve us travelling very far, it doesn’t involve a cafe or a restaurant. It doesn’t even involve a scone. Okay, you can stop reading here if you like but we think you should bear with us. Perhaps we should explain.
Chance?
Giant Himalayan lily over 2.5m tall
Attentive readers will remember that last month were were on the Isle of Coll nursing sore bums from bikes that didn’t fit us. That was our excuse anyway, nothing to do with our general state of decrepitude. We had a wonderful time on Coll and one of the highlights was meeting a couple at the Island Café who were taking delivery of some langoustines We got chatting. Turned out they were keen gardeners and lived in Kincardine which is just a ten minute drive from our home. To cut a long story short they invited us to see their garden at Helensbank House. And here we are, along with one of our neighbours. She is also a very keen gardener so we felt sure she would enjoy Helensbank.
Another world
Helensbank is sometimes described as a ‘secret garden’ and we totally understand why. Kincardine is not a big place so we assumed there wouldn’t be a problem finding a large garden. Wrong! It is tucked away down a very narrow street and when you arrive at the door there is not even a hint of a garden … just a pavement and a door! When our hosts opened the door, however, everything changed. You pass through to another world. A magical almost Mediterranean looking proliferation of plants … everywhere you look. Turns out that the door on the street is actually the back door. Now we understand … do we?
Centrepiece is this cedar brought back from Lebanon and planted by a sea captain in 1750
Our hosts open the garden occasionally to the public by arrangement or for charitable events. They have owned Helensbank for twenty years so their knowledge of each and ever plant was astounding.
A wedding cake tree on the left with an acer on the right beautifully underplanted with hosts
Portland roses
The garden is surrounded by a high wall and consists of lots of separate secluded little compartments or ‘rooms’. Each has its own character. Some shady with lots of foliage plants … few of which we recognised. Others sunny with tables and chairs where you could simply sit and enjoy the peace and quiet of the garden. Portland roses are a favourite and there were lots of beautifully scented examples everywhere. Little paths join everything up. There is so much to see the garden could never be done quickly. Particularly if our neighbour needs to discuss each and every plant at length!
In one of the ‘rooms’ we came across some bantam hens with tiny chicks. Then we were introduced to Victor their tortoise. He is about 12 years old and had been inherited from people who could no longer look after him. For a tortoise he was incredibly agile and seemed to have an insatiable appetite for dandelion leaves.
Considering our host’s encyclopaedic knowledge it’s hardly surprising that they organise horticultural courses at Helensbank and elsewhere.
Cookies
The intention had been that we would have tea and scones at the end of our visit however, circumstances dictated otherwise. Instead we had tea from a lovely tea set and chocolate chip cookies. All while sitting beside a huge example of the fantastically fragrant Ispahan rose. What a fantastic way to spend an afternoon. We had only met our hosts fleetingly on Coll yet the kindness and hospitality they showed us was absolutely wonderfull.
Everything crossed
As we often say we are very lucky to be able to spend time like this with such incredible people. Especially when we think of the five folk lost in the Titan submersible. They are two and a half miles down in the Atlantic near the wreck of the Titanic … truly desperate situation. Fingers and everything else crossed for their safe return.
We’ve been getting around a bit recently. In the past few months our posts have come from such diverse places as Pleased To Meet You in Northumberland to the Final Checkout in Shetland. It seems fitting, therefore, that we should now be having a Cornish Cream Tea in Cornwall. Except that we’re not! We are enjoying a Cornish Cream Tea but we’re not at the most southerly tip of England, we’re at home. This cream tea was a gift from friends and it came in a box.
How nice is that? A genuine Cornish Cream Tea from the Cornish Company without the twelve hour drive to get there. What’s more it came with everything required of a cream tea including two wee bottles of prosecco … fab! There was Cornish scones, Cornish jam, Cornish Smugglers Brew tea and a tub of Rodda’s Cornish clotted cream. We normally object to Rodda’s when more locally sourced cream is readily available but in this instance, of course, it was totally appropriate. What more could you ask for?
They are particular about their cream teas in Cornwall so it came with full instructions.
Step 3 is marked “very important” and refers to the ‘jam first’ rule. A few years back when the National Trust advertised a cream tea at one of its properties in Cornwall it used a photograph of a ‘cream first’ scone. The ensuing outrage resulted in mass resignations from the National Trust. ‘Cream first’ is, of course, the Devon way and totally abhorrent to Cornish folks. A grovelling apology was issued.
No such ridiculous faux pas here however, we already knew how to prepare a scone properly … the “jam first” way, the civilised way, the Cornish way!
It was a fine day so we sat in the garden with the only sounds coming from blackbirds nesting in a nearby hydrangea. Our scones were fab, as was everything else. As we have often done recently, we thought how lucky we were to be able to do this and to have such wonderful friends.
What do we know?
We can all breathe a sigh of relief, the Eurovision Song Contest is over for another year. Sweden’s Loreen won with her song Tattoo. We don’t understand why it won except that people must have voted for it. But then, we have a Westminster government intent on ruining the UK and people must have voted for that as well?
WARNING: No scones feature in this post! However, before you judge us too harshly you should read on to see the extent of our efforts on your behalf. Scone hunting in the northernmost reaches of Scotland is not for the faint hearted!
Actually today started off in a different direction. Our intention was to go to Fair Isle which lies half way between Shetland and Orkney. Yesterday we had gone to Tingwall Airport, just six miles from Lerwick, to book seats but it was shut. No response to us knocking on the door of Terminal 1. There weren’t any other Terminals to choose from and it was Sunday!
This morning we were back again and the nice lady behind the desk looked at her screen only to announce apologetically that there was only one seat left. I said that Pat would sit on my knee, it’s only a 25 minute flight after all, but she just smiled pityingly and shook her head. A scone from Fair Isle would have been great but now we would have to revert to Plan B. That meant heading in the opposite direction to get as far north as we could. Muckle Flugga lighthouse was our new target. Onwards and northwards!
Dedication
To get there we had to catch a ferry to Yell, drive across Yell then another ferry to Unst. It promised to be a good day, the weather was lovely and we like ferries. From a sconological point of view Unst has the UK’s most northerly tearoom … Victoria’s Vintage Tearoom. Honestly, the things we do for our sconey readers!
Our ferry ‘Bigga’ at Toft looking towards Yell
Before long we were at Toft to catch our ferry to Yell. It’s always exciting to arrive somewhere new and waiting for ferries just heightens the anticipation. To add to the anticipation we had been told by a lorry driver that he missed the previous ferry because he hadn’t booked. He wasn’t sure if he would get on the next one either. Argh! We weren’t booked either! Turns out catching ferries is a bit of a lottery if you’re not booked. No problem though, we got on and so did our lorry driver. Fifteen minutes later we were arriving at Ulsta on Yell!
Restoration project
Yell has a population of about 1000 people and has been inhabited since Neolithic times. There are many Pictish brochs. You can also find the ruins of the Windhouse – the most haunted house on Shetland. It was built in 1707 and when it was being renovated 160 years later skeletons were found under the floor. An English couple bought it in 2003 to restore it … no restoration ever took place and it’s back on the market. Anyone interested? Apparently, being this close to Norway, there’s quite a lot of trolls on Yell.
Ferry arriving at Gutcher on Yell with Unst in the distance
Luftwaffe
Once again the roads were first class and before long we were in Gutcher waiting for the ferry to Belmont on Unst. Gutcher is a tiny settlement but during WWII the Luftwaffe bombed the post office in an attempt to disrupt communications … hard to believe.
Lord Bothwell, Mary Queen of Scot’s third husband, fled to Unst when he was accused of murdering her second husband. Three ships were sent to bring him back but the sea battle that followed resulted in him sailing off to Norway. Obviously, he didn’t need to book a ferry!
Stereotyping?
No time was wasted in making our way to Victoria’s Vintage Tearoom at Haroldswick in the very north of Unst. It was closed! If it wasn’t for bad luck we wouldn’t have no luck at all.
The Uk’s most northerly tearoom
We had an odd experience here. As far as we could make out we were the only people around for miles apart from two Americans working in the garden of the house next door. They were speaking loudly to each other but apart from a curt “it’s closed“, they steadfastly ignored us. That’s in spite of us being just a few feet away in this vast expanse of emptiness. Having become so used to the warmth and friendliness of the Shetlanders we found this a little disconcerting. Before we get into trouble with our American readers let us emphasise that we are not saying this is stereotypical American behaviour. We know the complete opposite to be true … honest!
End of the world
Not to worry, a little further along the road at Hermaness we reached the end of the road and our destination, the Muckle Flugga lighthouse. No ferries, bookable or otherwise, to the island but at least we could see it. To the east lies the Norwegian Sea, to the north the Artic ocean and to the left the Atlantic. Apart from a nature reserve there’s nothing here. It has that Tierra del Fuego “end of the world” feel about it.
The lighthouse was built in 1854 to protect naval vessels going to war in Crimea … somethings never change! My birthday present bottle of Muckle Flugga whisky is supposed to be stored for 12 months in a cave near here to give it its unique characteristic flavour. Couldn’t find the cave!
Men!
It used to be most northerly inhabited island in the UK until 1995 when the lighthouse was automated. That honour has now passed to Unst. For those interested in geology, Muckle Flugga was formed when two giants fell in love with the same mermaid. They fought over her by throwing large rocks at each other, one of which became Muckle Flugga. To get rid of them, the mermaid offered to marry whichever one would follow her to the North Pole. They both followed her and drowned, as neither could swim. Men??
Sconeless we headed south again and this was when we came on the Final Checkout, the most northerly shop in the UK. Amazingly, at £1.55 a litre it also seemed to have the cheapest diesel in the UK.
No scones so we decided to have a sassermaet (correct spelling) and egg roll.
Our Unst scone
Sassermeat is a Shetland speciality. It’s like what we would call ‘square’ or ‘Lorne’ sausage but made with their own spices. It had to be sampled. It was excellent but definitely not a scone! The initial appearance of The Final Checkout is deceptive. It’s big and has just about everything you could possibly think of: plumbing, electrical, household, groceries .. it’s all here! When I said to them “if I was to ask you for something you haven’t got, I would be struggling” They simply replied “If we’ve not got it, we’ll get it for you” … simple! We left with a supply of sassermaet to take home as a reminder of a very enjoyable visit.
Honesty
We have been surprised by the number of honesty boxes on Shetland … there’s a lot. A bit further down the road at Baltasound we came across this one.
The bus shelter is the famous Bobby’s bus shelter. Bobby was a local boy who got his father to campaign to have the shelter reinstated after it was removed by the Council. He used to cycle to catch the bus and needed somewhere to leave his bike. Once it was put back odd things happened. Every summer it mysteriously acquires a sofa, a TV, a microwave, curtains and even its own website.
The honesty boxes usually contain things like eggs, jam, sweets and cakes and have little cash boxes for the money … a problem in our cashless society. This one was in the form of a little house and when we lifted the roof it revealed boxes of eggs and packets of Shetland fudge. We had three one pound coins so the fudge was ours … yeah! It’s rather nice to see these things all over the place and we think it says something about the way of life up here.
To add to the general weirdness, the little traffic island adjacent to the shelter is dedicated to renowned disk jockey, John Peel who died in Peru a few years ago! Why?
Return to Lerwick
The notice says: This is an honesty cafe, so help yourselves, use the book to write down what you have taken and paid … and enjoy!
On our return journey we took the road down the east coast of Yell. Near Burravoe we discovered Le Petit Cafe – Chez Simone. Unfortunately, only open in the summer but it even has its own Unst Weather Rock … more fun than looking at your phone! Back in Lerwick and dinner in the Dowry. Oh dear we’re getting near the end of our Shetland adventure.
Fingers crossed
Today, Scotland’s new First Minister, Humza Yousaf, was announced following the sudden resignation of Nicola Sturgeon. Hopefully he will accelerate our journey to becoming a self respecting independent country once again!
ps: our Austrian correspondents have sent a photo of a “delicious” scone they had in the cafe of the Tower of London. Last year they travelled all over South Korea but it was sconeless. Okay, we can delete South Korea from our bucket list. Many thanks M&C
This post from Karma Hotel on the Lake is a wee bit unusual. No scones were harmed. In fact, scones don’t feature at all except by their absence. “What are they on about now?” we hear you cry. Well, let us try and explain.
Lostness
It’s a lovely February day and we are out on one of our rambling drives. Pat is quite used to them now. We start off heading in one direction then get diverted, for one reason or another, onto a road we’ve never been on before. Inevitably this leads to an element of lostness … is that a word? Sat Nav isn’t much use if you don’t have any particular destination in mind. Pat used to make worried enquiries like “Are we lost?” but she doesn’t anymore. She knows that we will eventually end up somewhere. I used to pretend I knew where we was going but she quickly saw through all of that.
Suffice to say that after several miles of travelling along very narrow roads we emerged in a place that we recognised. And it wasn’t too far from here. The Lake Hotel is in a lovely setting on the shores of Scotland’s only lake. It has long been on our radar. However, although absolutely positive we knew where it was when we got to the end of the driveway the sign simply said “Karma”. Eh? We were in the right place but it turned out that the hotel had recently been acquired by the Karma Group. It has luxury resorts all over the world.
Karma
When we walked in a girl greeted us enthusiastically from behind the bar. Yes, we could have tea and coffee but no scones. In fact they couldn’t provide anything with tea and coffee … nothing! No cakes, no biscuits … nothing! Extraordinary, this was not the sort of Karma we had been expecting. Had we done something in a previous life that merited this sort of retribution? To be fair the young lady in question acknowledged our disappointment and promised that our next visit would be different. She was embarrassed and said she would talk to the management and get it sorted out. Can’t ask for more than that! The coffee was good though not a top coffee! We will return to check if she has been successful. Watch this space!
View from the hotel across the Lake of Menteith to Inchmahome island
Nationalists
From the hotel you look across the Lake to the little island of Inchmahome on which stands the ruins of Inchmahome Priory. Mary Queen of Scots once took refuge from the English there and the founder of the SNP (Scottish Nationalist Party), Robert Cunninghame Graham is buried there. Coincidentally, Nicola Sturgeon, the current leader of the SNP announced her resignation today. She’s led the Scottish Government for over eight years and has become one of the most adept and respected politicians in Europe. We understand her reasons for resigning. The blocking of the Scottish people’s ability to determine their own future is tiresome to say the least. And no one can withstand the level of vitriol and hate she has been subjected at the hands of mendacious British nationalists forever. She remains a very popular politician … we wish her well!
Also today there was another example of Westminster duplicity. The Koh-i-Noor diamond is to be removed from the crown being used for the coronation of Camilla, the Queen Somesort, in May. It would cause a rumpus because Britain stole it from India about 175 years ago and now India wants it back. Obviously, India should have it back but we would advise them not to hold their breath. Why?
While Camilla is being crowned she will be sitting next to her hubby whose Royal bahookie will be sitting on a great big lump of stolen goods. The Stone of Destiny was stolen from Scotland in 1296.
Rogues
Scotland struggled for many years to get it repatriated. Indeed we did get it back from Westminster (it now resides in Edinburgh Castle) but in typical Westminster fashion it was returned grudgingly with strings attached. They can legally demand it back. What sort of parcel of rogues does that? We do know, however, that their leader’s posterior will be resting on it in May? Some say that the one being transported back to a London is a fake and the real one remains in Scotland somewhere. Oooo, if that’s true will it mean Charles III’s coronation is null and void? Exciting!
A really enjoyable day out but we stuck to the main roads on our way home.
First, a word of warning, especially for the faint-hearted. This post covers three different venues many miles apart but does not feature any scones. Yes, not a single scone was harmed in the making of this post. Not that we regard ourselves as ever doing any harm to scones, we simply help them fulfil their glorious destiny. Hence the title – Sconeless in the North. Let us explain how we managed to get through an entire day without our delicious little friends.
Highland Folk Museum
We are still with our coach party and staying in Newtonmore just north of Aviemore. While there we visited the Highland Folk Museum. It’s a fabulous place where they try and recreate what life was like in the Highlands a century or so ago. It’s been done by rescuing old buildings and transporting them to this site where they get a new lease of life.
Knockbain school originally a few miles west of Inverness
It’s spread over a very large area and after a while I wasn’t feeling my best and the weather wasn’t the best either so I excused myself and thought I would just wait for Pat and the others in the cafe. I wasn’t actually thinking about a scone because, obviously, I can’t review them without my beloved. It did, however, give rise to a rather traumatic scone experience. It’s a slightly long winded explanation but bear with me.
Write it down
There was a relatively short queue at the cafe but it was moving very slowly. The reason became obvious when it eventually came to my turn. Only a young lad and a lass were looking after everything. They, pretty obviously, were not happy, He was front of house and she seemed occupied with something at the back. I said “ a black americano and a scone, please“. it would have taken all of thirty seconds to pour me a cup of coffee and hand me one of the scones that were right in front of me, but no.
I was still there a couple of minutes later as the exact details of my request were written down longhand on a fresh pad of paper. “Did I want milk?” No, no need in a black americano … he wrote it down nevertheless, “did I want sugar … did I want butter? and so it went on.
Takeaway
Eventually it came time to pay. At this point he said “it’s takeaway only now, we’re closing“. Nothing of this had been mentioned to the previous customer so I asked when they closed. “3.45” was the answer. “but It’s only 3 o’clock“, I said, to which the answer was “we’re short staffed.” I was flabbergasted, the prospect of carrying my coffee and scone outside to the wind and rain didn’t appeal so I left empty handed. In hindsight, I could have explained that I was on an educational mission for people all over the world but I don’t think it would have made the slightest difference.
After a while outside enduring the worst of the effects of the fresh air I thought I would return to the cafe for shelter until Pat and the others returned. To my great surprise almost every table was taken. Okay, everyone had takeaway cups but what was going on? When I asked the young chap he said “They are supposed to go outside but nobody listens they just take their stuff and sit at a table“. With that, the girl from the back appeared and said “We’re doing our best butnobody listens to us” and promptly burst into tears. Goodness, I have really no idea what was going on here but it was pretty obvious that these kids needed a lot of help, training and better systems. Maybe even counselling? So that was non-scone number one.
Fort George
We soldiered on. Fort George was another impressive stop on our outing. It sits on a promontory jutting out into the Moray Firth and the scale of the place is phenomenal. The British government must have been feeling very insecure just after the Battle of Culloden in 1746. Goodness knows how many millions were spent building this place over a twenty year period. Continuing unrest in Scotland over the 1707 Act of Union and the ever present perceived threat from France were responsible. Ironically, by the time it was completed much of the threat had dissipated.
There were actually soldiers with submachine guns at the patrolling the place, so someone had clearly tipped them off that we were coming. If you look at the title picture you can see a white sentry box on the right under a red flag. A submachine gunned sentry still has to stand in that all day. The only thing he is liable to see is dolphins and we’re not aware that they are an actual threat.
Some of the Falkirk made canons on the ramparts
Pat and I decided to walk the whole of the perimeter ramparts. It takes quite a while and then, if we had time, visit the cafe.
The Chapel
Eventually we also visited the chapel, chatted to some American tourists and ended up pushed for time at the cafe. No matter, it was sconeless anyway. Non-scone number two.
Lovely ladies
After Fort George it was back on the bus and only a very short hop to the village hall in Ardersier where lunch was waiting. Ardersier is where the villagers of Blacktown were resettled after their village had to be removed in order to build Fort George. Some lovely local ladies provided a great lunch but still no scones. Non-scone number three.
A special place in scone history
After that we were finished with the north and headed back south to Dunkeld where we were due to visit the local Museum. It was late in the day when we got there and unfortunately we had to walk from where the bus was parked to the Museum past Palmerstons Coffee Shop …argh! This was the venue of our very first scone post on this blog back in March 2015. We couldn’t just pass it by?
You will all remember distinctly that in that post all these years ago we explained that this place was winner in that year’s World Jam Championships. Apparently the lady who was running it then doesn’t take too much to do with the Coffee Shop any more … she’s next door … in the Jam Shop! So here was non-scone number four. We were too late, all the scones had gone. Time for home.
Bus trips are like some sort of alternative reality. You are cocooned with a particular group of people all pursuing the same sort of thing. You are isolated from the actual reality of a world gone completely mad. Hopefully it will all have sorted itself out by the time we get back.
We survived this traumatic day mainly due to this lot … the singing was dreadful 😁. Many thanks to Falkirk Local History Society for organising a very memorable trip.
ps: for telephone box aficionados, this was taken in Fort George.
Two K6s on the left were made in the Saracen foundry in Glasgow. The post box and other K6 were made in Falkirk.
pps: I have written to Highland Council over my concerns for the kids in the cafe at the Folk Museum. Will let you know if I ever hear anything back from them.
What a DISASTER! No we’re not talking about the Sunak/Truss clash last night on telly. The only thing they seemed to agree on was that the last few years of government (of which they were part) was a disaster. No we are talking about our 501th scone. Let us explain.
Explosive stuff
For several years we have had the Canary Girls Café in Glasgow in our sights. The story was one we thought would interest our readers. They also made empire biscuits with the icing in the form of a Scottish saltire! Had to get one of those. The Canary Girls were the women who were employed in munitions, manufacturing TNT shells during WWI. The chemicals reacted with melanin to turn their skin yellow. … not good. They even had Canary Babies with the same yellow skin … even more not good! The lady who owned the café named it in honour of her grandmother who had actually been a Canary Girl. What with COVID and everything, we never managed to visit … but today we did. Guess what? They were in the process of dismantling the place as it’s closing for good … disaster!
They said the nearest café was only a short walk away and it was called Patricia’s. Obviously, with a name like that we had to go. Patricia’s is a nice plan but when we asked for a scone she just shook her head … disaster! Not wanting to walk any further we decided to stay and have something anyway. But first, a question:
Yes, we decided to have coffee and a mascarpone cake. They said it was the closest thing to a scone they had. We asked for their wifi. No wifi … disaster! Also no telephone and their website is also a disaster so we haven’t added it. On the plus side the mascarpone cake was delicious and the coffee was excellent.
If that wasn’t enough disasters for one day we have just heard that Boris, who for some unfathomably reason is still PM, is threatening not to go after all. We’re doomed!!
Q: what cheese would you use to tempt a bear out of a tree?
