As parents all over this coronavirus world scream at their kids to stop going outside and get back on their iPads we bring you our fifth island scone repost. This time it’s from the Old Workshop Café on yet another wonderful island, Colonsay. As you will see our visit was in September 2015 at the height of the refugee crisis in Europe.
Considering that many of the smaller islands have very little or no choice, for a population of around 100, Colonsay is pretty well endowed with tearooms and eating places. There is the Pantry, the Colonsay Hotel and this place, the Old Workshop at Colonsay House in the middle of the island. It was built in 1935 to do boat repairs. Many of the original tools and other paraphernalia are still evident. The baking is done every morning by Katie and Sarah (after they have made the school dinners) and most of their cakes are done as large slabs to which you just help yourself. Just cut off as much as you like! Tempting to overindulge but I guess it works in their favour because most folk go for fairly modest portions. Especially if others are watching .. and they are! The chocolate fudge (bottom right in the pic) was yummy.
Tropical beaches
Anyway, enough of cakes, the scones were great as well … soft and light but with a slightly crunchy outer crust. The fabulous blackcurrant jam was made from berries picked in the gardens. The climate on Colonsay is very mild. The gardens are full of sub-tropical plants. Being able to sit outside on the little terraced area just finished off the whole experience. Later we ended up on the beach at Kiloran just a mile or so from the café. Pristine and beautiful but a sad reminder that there are bodies of children washing up on other beaches in the Mediterranean. If the EU, with all its money, cannot sort this horrendous mess out what is the point of it all?
Remember we said we had bought a ‘virtual’ Devonshire Tea from the Country Women’s Association of New South Walesbut were afraid we would not receive it because we had to enter our address as being in Australia. We got it! We know because our bank account has been debited $10! All we can say is that ‘virtual’ scones are really great for the waistline but totally lacking in substance. However, we promised we would share the CWA’s ‘famous’ scone recipe, so here it is:
We haven’t tried the recipe yet but if any readers want to beat us to it then feel free. Photos required, of course. You can still support the CWA here. Thanks again to our Mirrambeena correspondents for providing us with this opportunity.
COLONSAY SHED
In the suburbs of the capital of Colonsay, Scalasaig
We figured out how to repost. It required nothing more than the download of some plugin software and the whole process becomes relatively easy. The titles in reposts will contain “again” to signify that it is not an actual revisit but just an old post being regurgitated. Text in red is new but other than that the posts will remain unaltered. This is the first of our ‘island scone” reposts from the Isle of Muck and dates back to July 2017. In the post, you will see that we say that life on Muck will go on regardless “no matter how disastrous things get in the outside world”. How prophetic!
Boris has been taken into hospital with his coronavirus symptoms but you all know about that. Get well soon Boris! Did we just say that? On to important things. Sheds are the main reason for us visiting the islands. To take photos for our book “Sheds of Scotland”. In these reposts, we have decided to add a shed here and there as a wee bit of added interest. So, if you have always wondered what a Muck shed looks like, today might be your lucky day!
We sailed into Port Mòr, the capital of the Isle of Muck, in great anticipation. For some reason, this was the culmination of a long-held ambition to actually visit Muck rather than just viewing it from a distance. Maybe it has something to do with the name? We were not to be disappointed … it is a great island. Not in size, only 2 by 0.75 miles, but it just has a lovely feel to it. It’s fertile and the land seems well-tended giving it a softer look than its neighbours Rùm and Eigg.
Looking towards Skye in the distance with Rùm to the left
We walked the only road on the island, about 1.6 miles long, and the same Land Rover passed us five times. It was the only thing that passed.
Looking the other way towards Port Mòr … waiting for a corncrake to appear
Muck meat
We stopped at one point because a corncrake was calling in one of the fields. In spite of a lengthy wait, as usual, this shyest of birds did not reveal itself. Muck has been owned since 1896 by the family of Lawrence and Ewen McEwen. It currently has a population of about 38.
Everyone is outside
The island is famous for its succulent ‘Muck Meat’ derived from lambs that thrive on the rich grassland in this stress-free environment. They also breed Highland ponies using a stallion that goes by the rather impressive name of ‘Strathmashie Seumas Mhor’. You can probably tell by now that we really like Muck. And to top it all off, they had scones in Port Mòr’s, Bothy tearoom. Sometimes you can just tell as soon as you walk into a place that there is a high probability of the scones being good … so it was with the Bothy.
We were served by Jenny McEwen who had made the scones earlier in the day. They were delicious and accompanied by a generous portion of homemade apricot jam and a knob of butter. Great coffee and sitting outside in the sunshine with chickens under the table waiting for crumbs didn’t do anything to lessen our enjoyment. Easy topscone. Well done Jenny and all the ladies who were providing great service in this tearoom. We only had three hours so before long it was time to make our way back to the ferry. Guess what we came across?
Another Lion foundry, Kirkintilloch K6
You got it … a K6 standing high above the village. They really are everywhere, though this one was looking a wee bit sorry for itself. Unusually for such items in these parts, it did not seem to have acquired an alternative use.
Port Mòr on the Isle of Muck
A quieter more peaceful world
When you are on places like this, you definitely get the feeling that no matter how disastrous things get in the outside world, life on Muck will just go on regardless. The same could be said for all the islands we visited. They are indeed another world … a quieter more peaceful world. What possible interest could Putin or Trump have here? Not a lot, and we think that the islanders themselves are very happy for it to stay that way. On the other hand, EU investment has been good for this part of the world. Let’s hope that the same level of interest is maintained, in a year or so, when such decisions are left entirely to Westminster. Don’t hold your breath though.
Pier House in Port Mòr
All too soon the hooter sounds on the ferry signalling that we must return to some semblance of reality … boo!
ps: For those interested in Pat’s bird count from Arisaig, Eigg, Rùm and Muck here, it is in rough order of observation. Robin, starling, swallow, blackbird, dunnock, house sparrow, hooded crow, oystercatcher, greenfinch, song thrush, grey heron, black guillemot, cormorant, eider duck, guillemot, Manx shearwater, chaffinch, great black-backed gull, herring gull, collared dove, golden eagle, feral pigeon, sea eagle, buzzard, whitethroat, rock pipit, arctic tern, wood pigeon, pied wagtail, lesser black-backed gull, raven, kittiwake, pintail duck, gannet, skylark, rook, kestrel, wheatear, lapwing, greylag goose, goldfinch, pheasant, corn bunting, mistle thrush, corncrake (heard). That’s 44 in total.
I would give her 45 for that corncrake but I know our very strict birding mentor, RD, would not allow it. Oddly we didn’t see any swans or mallards and we just missed a storm petrel and some puffins. There were also quite a few warblers and such like that we could not positively identify. Pat was pleased with her total so that’s all that matters.
Ah, these were the days when we could just wander carefree looking for our feathered friends.
Today we are in South Queensferry at The Little Bakery. It’s a bit of a misnomer because once you get inside it’s really quite big. There’s a couple of seating areas at the front, another at the side and yet another downstairs at the back. The town itself is very pretty with narrow cobbled streets and quaint houses. It’s designed for horses and carts rather than the juggernauts that are here today creating chaos as they try to manoeuvre between the buildings with inches to spare.
The Forth Rail Bridge, opened exactly 130 years ago
Nothing much has changed here over the centuries other than the addition of the odd bridge or three. And, as you walk around, it’s olde worlde charm makes it very easy to forget what a crazy crazy world we live in.
The Forth Road Bridge and the Queensferry Crossing
Good British viruses
President Trump has just banned all travel to the US from Europe because of coronavirus. Mysteriously, the UK has an exemption, however. This must be one of the first benefits of not being in Europe or does he not realise that although we’ve left the EU, we haven’t actually physically moved. Or does Trump have an ulterior motive, a trade deal perhaps? Yes, think we’ll go with that one. Or maybe he thinks the British virus, is much healthier than those from countries that don’t speak English. Who knows what, if anything, goes on in his head? Thankfully his aides have now come out to correct everything he said.
The Chancellor, Rishi Sunak, delivered his first budget the other day. It was full of bountiful gifts for ‘the people’. The only thing lacking was any sense of a grip on reality. Apparently, the past decade has been forgotten where untold hardships were inflicted on the poor so that the rich could get richer. And it’s not as if all this austerity now puts us in a position where we have accumulated enough that we can dish out money left, right and centre. No, no, no, it will all have to be borrowed, about £100bn! Brilliant, I could be Chancellor!
Meaningless opposition
We don’t blame Boris or Rishi however, we blame Jeremy Corbyn. Having no idea what he or his party stood for, he left the people with no choice but to vote Tory and hence we end up where we are today. And he’s still there at the Dispatch Box … a totally meaningless opposition figure. Go Jeremy, just go!
This is all very well but we can hear you crying “Were there scones at the Little Bakery? Just get to the point?” Okay, yes there were!
Not only scones but an array of delicious looking baking that could easily have induced overindulgence. We maintained discipline, however, and after a light lunch, we just had our scones. Pat had fruit and I had a raspberry and chocolate chip. It had to be done! They were fab! Wonderful texture and with a lovely crunch. The only downside was messy fingers from the melting chocolate. A real dilemma when you’re not supposed to lick your fingers nowadays. We just licked anyway! Having forgotten to ask for cream we ended up not bothering. To be honest the scones were so good they didn’t need any further embellishment. This is a really nice place and we think that you would be hard pushed to have a disappointing visit. Easiest topscone in ages.
A wall of flowers at the Little Bakery
Lucky, lucky, lucky
We have reviewed several scones in South Queensferry. Five years ago we reviewed the Jitter Bean Café. That was when the EU was in the process of bailing out Greece with a £50bn loan. When we left the Little Bakery we thought we would take a stroll and see how it was doing. Sadly it has gone and been changed into something else. As far as we know, Greece is still there so it must have fared a bit better. While we walked along the street we came on this large wall plaque. When you consider that back in 1817 the inhabitants of South Queensferry were indebted to the ‘liberality’ of someone for a bleaching green and some water we should be a little more thankful for what we have today. We are all very lucky really. Okay, we’re a bit short on bleaching greens but we do have water and raspberry and chocolate chip scones!
You know how sometimes you just know that it’s going to be one of these days. It didn’t start off too badly because we had a free day. That meant we could go anywhere and do as we pleased … yeah! Since it was raining heavily we decided to take a train trip to Virginia Water in South West London. Why there? There are lots of possible reasons.
The richest town in the UK with an average home cost of over £1m?
Home of Wentworth Golf Club?
Elton John, Cliff Richard, Bruce Forsyth, Diana Dors and Nick Faldo have all had homes there?
The only reason for this place figuring in our consciences at all is that my dad used to play in the Virginia Water darts team when he was a trainee forester in the early 1930s. We thought it would be nice to have a look around … and maybe find the pub .. or even a scone.
We’ve already said it was one of these days. London has a fabulous train system where you simply tap your bank card in at the first station and tap out when you have reached your destination. Your bank account is automatically debited. It works really well. When we got off at Virginia Water, however, there was nowhere to tap out? When we asked at the ticket office the chap informed us, with a wry smile, that we had gone beyond the Transport For London (tfl) area. We would get an automatic fine for our trouble and in addition, we would have to buy a return ticket to get back. Great!
When is a scone not a scone?
It was still raining heavily when we left the station. All the roads were flooded and even making pedestrian progress was extremely difficult. To top things off, Virginia Water also seemed to be sconeless. Could things get any worse? After about an hour we decided to cut our losses and head back to the station. In a last desperate bid to salvage something from our day we ended up in Costa – Virginia Water in the vain hope that they might save the day. When is a scone not a scone … when it’s an almond croissant, that’s when! Needless to say there were no scones here either. Actually the croissant was delicious, but you don’t want the hear about that. We didn’t find my dad’s pub. We suspect it was the Wheatsheaf Hotel but it was too far to walk in these conditions.
Fitting in
There’s only about five and a half thousand inhabitants in Virginia Water and they all seem to do alright for themselves. ‘Private’ notices abound and most of the houses have large wrought irons gates and gardens about the size of a small golf course. In 1998 General Pinochet was placed under house arrest in one of the houses pending his extradition back to Chile. Pity really because if he had hung around he would have fitted right into the current UK government’s cabinet.
When the Prime Minister, Dominic Cummings, sat down with the Chancellor, Dominic Cummings, and the rest of the cabinet of mini Dominic Cummingses, Pinochet might have felt very at home. Indeed, Attila the Hun would not have felt out of place! The irony is simply breathtaking. After almost four years of striving to leave the EU and its unelected bureaucrats the UK ends up being run by an unelected bureaucrat. Downing Street’s latest appointment, Andrew Sabisky, with his horrendous racist views, thankfully only lasted about twenty four hours.
Apologies for the sconelessness of Virginia Water but our day was not entirely lost. We found out that no matter how plush the mansions, we could not live in a town without scones.
This what happens when you decide to get your cast iron work done outwith Scotland. This old post box in London was made by Handyside Foundry in London … and London is obviously too close to Pisa.
Okay, hands up, we are as bad as Boris when it comes to telling porkies. Having told readers that Norton House would be our last post from Europe here we are sending another! The difference between our porky pies and Boris’s is that ours are purely accidental. Maybe Boris has had an advance batch of the new Liar Wine being launched tomorrow to celebrate our departure from the EU. We honestly did not think we would be posting another scone so soon but here we are at Simply Sarah’s doing just that.
Closing early
On this rather wet day, we found ourselves in Doune shopping in one of Pat’s favourite shops. On the way into the shop, we suddenly realised there was a café almost next door. We had always thought of Doune as being a one-café (the Buttercup Cafe) village but had never noticed Simply Sarah’s. It’s tiny, maybe that’s why! It had to be done.
When we say tiny, we mean tiny. Two small tables and a grand total of four seats. Cat swinging is not advised! You might think that this is about as far away as you can get from the Norton House. Well, in many ways it is, however, don’t be so hasty. Sarah is a classically trained chef who used to work in the upmarket Cromlix House Hotel before it was taken over by Andy Murray … and her experience shows.
We arrived at 2.45 and were warmly welcomed by Sarah. She also warned us that she had to close at 3.00 to go and pick her kiddy up from school. Being the only ones in we had our pick of the tables. We used both! There were two scones left which she had baked earlier in the day. Time was tight but we thought there was just enough to relieve her of those scones and still let her get away.
Prejudices
When the scones came, however, she had preloaded them with butter and jam… no cream. Readers are probably weary of hearing us bleat on about preloaded scones and places that don’t have cream. Normally these two things alone would bar them from the topscone category. Here, however, at Simply Sarah’s we have decided to throw all these silly prejudices overboard because the scones were sooo good. Soft in the middle and just the right of crunch on the outside. On the strength of the scones, we bought a couple of Sarah’s homemade pies. It turned out that we had plenty of time for our scones. This hard-working lady was busy shutting up shop as we left so we hope she wasn’t late for pickup.
Leave the light on
In about nine hours from writing this, we will be out of Europe and bobbing about uncontrollably on a sea of uncertainty like some unsavoury piece of flotsam. Okay, maybe not immediately as we still have the 12 month transition period to get through. But still it will be momentous for all the wrong reasons. The world’s media is descending on Scotland to see how this historic event is commemorated. Don’t expect fireworks here. Brexit has beautifully highlighted Scotland’s democratic deficit. People across the globe now understand the country’s plight better than ever before. Scots are proud Europeans but at 11pm tonight we must prepare to have that part of our national identity forcibly removed.
Perhaps all is not lost, however. As British MEPs were leaving the European Parliament last Wednesday there was a rousing chorus of that quintessentially Scottish song, Auld Lang Syne, accompanied by a promise to ‘”leave the light for Scotland” so it can find its way home. The Scottish Parliament has also refused to lower the EU flag as a symbol to those EU citizens living here that they are still welcome.
Who ate all the pies?
Pies, not the porky pies but the steak and the coronation chicken pies we bought at Simply Sarah’s have since been scoffed. Simply Sarah’s pies are simply the best!
ps Thanks go to our Oregon correspondents who have informed us that they make vegan scones from recipes in Realm magazine. while listening to the music of Dougie MacLean.
Recently, we have come to the conclusion that we could do this blog without ever having to leave our home town of Falkirk. Every time we turn our back, a new cafe or restaurant pops up. Okay, slight exaggeration but only slight. This post from the Café in the Kirk is a typical example.
The Speckled Church
Café in the Kirk has been on the go for a few years, however, not being noted for our religiosity, it just hadn’t registered. Today, however, was the day! Falkirk Trinity Church itself came about fairly recently when three churches merged their congregations … hence the name. A sign of the times, no doubt. Before that, it was the Old Parish Church, a place of worship since the 7th century. Back then it was known as the ‘faw kirk’ or ‘speckled church’ from which the town eventually took its name. Even today, locals tend to pronounce it Fa’kirk. With.soldiers from both the 1298 and the 1746 Battles of Falkirk buried in the graveyard, the church pretty much tells the story of Scotland.
To our great surprise, the Café in the Kirk was very busy, with no available tables. This surprised us in more ways than one. On the way in we had been amply warned by an elderly couple who were sitting outside “the lentil soup isn’t good“, accompanied by knowing glances and shaking heads. In spite of this, we decide to persevere and it wasn’t long before a table became free and we were in … yeah!
Romantic scones
One distinct advantage of coming here was that we felt distinctly young … probably the youngest in the place. The surroundings were fairly utilitarian, brightly lit, oilcloth table coverings, etc. Perhaps not the place to come for a romantic scone. We were attended to by a lovely lady who was dragging a leg. She reminded me of my mother who spent years serving lunches to perfectly able-bodied people while she hobbled around on a walking stick. Needless to say, we cleared our own table then helped our lady deliver our lunches. It seemed like the least we could do. Previously, we had noticed that there were only two scones left. An anxious few minutes were spent waiting to place our order hoping no one else would get them before us. Was that sinful or was that sinful?
Momentary relief
While we were waiting for our lunch to be prepared we noticed this wall poster. Obviously we were heartened by this news and, considering our fraught lives, decided to follow the advice. Joyous relief! However, when we asked for the password for the wifi we were informed: ” for church use only!” Goodness, that didn’t last long. Now we are worried and not enjoying life nearly as much as we did a minute ago. We’re pretty sure God didn’t actually have a hand in this decision, but still?
Although our lunch was great, by the time we got to our scones, expectations were not exactly riding high. However, we were to be confounded yet again … they were delicious! Very fresh and a lovely soft texture throughout. Turned out that our lady with the leg had baked them. If we had been able to get cream this could have been the first topscone of 2020, however, sadly, it was not to be. We are pretty sure that this place is entirely run by volunteers so we are reluctant to be too critical. Overall it’s very good and great value for money.
Celebrate or protest?
Now that the big decision has been taken Brexit barely gets a mention in the news. Attention has been diverted to Trump’s impeachment trial in the US and, of course, the supremely important matter of Harry and Meghan’s future happiness. Yet it is only a matter of days until we finally leave the EU … in Scotland’s case, very much against its will. In fact, the Scottish, Welsh and N.Irish Parliaments have all voted down the EU Withdrawal Bill. Will that make any difference? Not a bit! While Boris tries to determine what sort of celebrations will be used to mark the occasion on the 31st, we suspect that, in other parts of our broken UK, the mood will be more one of betrayal.
The minister of this church, an ardent supporter of Scottish Independence, wrote about the situation in his most recent blog. Yes, good people write blogs as well! He finished with this simple prayer “God, please help us. Amen.” Let’s hope He is listening!
ps Many thanks to The Laird who notified us of a Falkirk made K6 proudly standing outside the Jamaica Inn on Bodmin Moor in Cornwall. Picture courtesy of haunted rooms.co.uk
pps Thanks also to one of our Kiwi correspondents for this pic of her home-baked blueberry and banana muffins. Okay, not scones but they do look delicious. Maybe we need to broaden our scope and visit the gumdiggers of Dargaville?
Well here we are in Antonio’s Deli! Not only in a new year but in a new decade. A happy, healthy and sconey 2020 to one and all. We have had two weeks of grandkids over the festive season and have come out the other side in much the same way as a couple emerging from a bomb blast – wide eyed and tousle haired but otherwise unscathed … and thankful to have survived!
Things have quietened down now and as we return to some semblance of normality we venture forth like two polar bears emerging, blinking into the spring sunshine. Our last scone was at The Lobster Pot where we asked readers to interpret a puzzling diorama. You may remember some of its contents – a naked lady, a lobster, a snake and a welly wearing dog. Disappointingly, though perhaps unsurprisingly, there were no responses. The mystery remains … unless?
The Lobster Pot was some time ago, however, so we felt that only small steps would be advisable at first to get us back into the sconological swing. Antonio’s Deli was the answer. We can only imagine that the “bistrot” bit is a printing error. Only a short walk from our house and associated with one of our favourite Italian restaurants, Cafe Corvina. However, at Antonio’s we were looked after, not by an Italian, but a lovely Rumanian lady. She delivered the devastating news that she only had one scone left. And, yes, when we looked over at the counter, there it was, a fruit scone in all its solitary splendour. No choice but to share.
Just as we were about to cut it in half, however, we heard our Rumanian lady trying to explain to a rather distraught gentleman at the next table that there were no scones left. We called over and explained that we had the last one. Gosh, if looks could kill! We offered to sell it to him for £5 but he rather ungraciously declined.
New friend
In case it would upset him further we tried not to issue “mmmm” noises as we ate. Not that difficult really because, although it was nice enough, it definitely wasn’t a topscone. No cream and the butter and jam came from everywhere except Scotland … and you all know what we think about that! In the end our gentleman got over his disappointment and chatted with us quite affably. He reckoned that the best scones in the Falkirk area were at Dobbies Garden Centre. We didn’t disagree. He also gave us a hot tip for a scone in Dennyloanhead. We didn’t embrace or kiss or anything but parted as scone appreciating friends … respect!
Video Games
2020 seems like the beginning of a new decade that, by some accounts, we might not see the end of. We don’t want to appear alarmist, however, what with Greta predicting imminent climactic Armageddon and Indonesia and Australia doing their level best to prove her right, you can’t really blame us for bringing it your attention. On top of all that we have Britain leaving the EU in a couple of weeks and Trump picking a re-election fight with Iran. It’s scary and almost impossible to imagine that someone sitting in an office in Arizona or Essex can, joystick in hand, kill someone driving along a road several thousand miles away. Video games but with real life casualties. To us it seems a particularly cowardly and ungallant way of conducting foreign policy.
Presumably they could do the same to all of us? Okay, sconeys are unlikely to ever be seen as a serious threat to world peace but just think of when these deadly drones are small enough and cheap enough to be given as Christmas presents. With such powerful tools at their disposal the barbarian “cream first” sconeys of Devon might try and exterminate all right thinking sconeys caught in the act of putting jam on first. Since there was no cream in Antonio’s Deli this was not an issue. At no time did we feel even vaguely threatened.
Anyway, onwards and upwards. Now that we have stuck our toes back into the scone-land water, we may venture even further next time.
ps Australia has more than enough problems at the moment and our sympathies go out to them. Thank goodness for our miserable, cool but moderate climate back here in Scotland … 16°C forecast for tomorrow though?? Might have to get the deckchairs out early.Buried in our labyrinthine computer we found this pic of our Toowoomba correpondents enjoying an Australian scone. They’ve got cream! Don’t know anything else about it but lets hope that good scone times return to Aus very soon.
Back to reality. Our previous post from the Scotch Tea House on the French Riviera seems like a distant fond memory as now we are in a supermarket in Falkirk … Morrisons Café to be precise. A bit of a come down. There is a perfectly logical explanation however.
You may remember that last year when we were at the Scotsman Grand Café we had a mini five year old person with us. She kept us amused with her weird and wonderful observations through all the problems we were having just ordering a scone. This time, on our return from France, we picked her up in London and brought her and her wee sister back to Scotland with us. Of course, she is six now and and her sister is four. Oh joy! Between them they have enough energy to light up Blackpool!
Scary!
As it’s Halloween, we needed some appropriate costumes so that we could go guising and scare the living daylights out of our friends and neighbours. Hence we found ourselves here in Morrisons buying two spider witch outfits … really scary! The real horror of Halloween is, of course, that Brexit hasn’t happened and Boris Johnson hasn’t died in a ditch as he promised. Guess we can just add that to his ever lengthening string of broken promises. It really is all just a game for these guys!
Anyway, having got suitably kitted out we decided to go for a cuppa and some lunch in the café. It’s probably fairly typical of supermarket cafés though maybe slightly better than some others we have been in. What it lacks in ambience it makes up for with low prices and edible food. We were surprised to find scones so, of course, they had to be sampled. We shouldn’t really have preconceived ideas about places but suffice to say, we do. Expectations were not exactly soaring. They came with lots of butter and jam, however, cream was too much of an ask. The scones themselves were actually quite nice … nice texture, lots of fruit and only £1 each. Even at this price, however, a topscone was also too much of an ask. This supermarket is built on a site once occupied by Brockville Park, the stadium of Falkirk FC. It’s biggest ever attendance was 23,100 in 1953 for a match against Celtic. In 2004 the football club moved to a new site on the outskirts of the town. For some, however, this is still hallowed ground. For others, of course, Morrisons seems like a much better use of the space.
Eating pancakes?
We know it’s Halloween but horror of horrors, we are going to have a General Election on 12th December … hurrah! Who knows what tall stories we will be told in the coming weeks. After years of austerity there will probably be more money than we can possibly imagine to spend on pretty much anything we want. Life will be good! Everything in the garden will be rosy. Doubtless, however, on December 13th that will all change. Boris will doubtless win but that will say more about the opposition than anything else.Meanwhile we have our own somewhat smaller horror show … we must go and scare the neighbours before returning to dook for apples and try to eat pancakes covered in treacle hanging from a string with our hands tied behind our backs. What? It’s just as senseless as having a General Election but way more fun.
As you know from our previous post, Café 66, we have been following the swallows in their southerly migration. Unlike us, however, they probably managed to avoid French rail strikes. As they continued blithely onwards to South Africa we had to contend with the vagaries of continental travel.
No jeter in the toilet
As the officials kept telling us, the strike was a ‘surprise’, only announced overnight so there was nothing much they could do The answer to most of our questions was a gallic style shrug of the shoulders. There were a few trains running but no one seemed to know which ones. The French seem to accept such things fairly philosophically. And, in any case, they are fortunate to have Macron to blame for everything.
To cut a long story short we eventually arrived at my sister’s place about five hours late. The swallows were probably in South Africa by then. Never mind, we received a welcome like no other so all our inconveniences were immediately forgotten.
The Tea House carpet
To make matters worse it was raining. It was raining a lot … a monsoon. It was warmer rain than we get in Scotland, however. Six years since we were last in Nice so there was much catching up to do and new things to see. My sister was keen that we see the new tram system which was still under construction on our previous visit. Also the new Coulée Verte, a beautiful green corridor that runs through the centre of the town. It’s a place for people to walk and take their ease.
Of course, France like the rest of the EU, is pretty much a scone free zone. A bit of a desert to sconeys like us. There are may culinary things France is famous for but scones isn’t one of them. However as we wandered through the Coulée Verte what should we spy in the distance … the Scotch Tea House! Was it possible that a scone, a beacon of genteel civility, might exist in such a place?
We entered into a cool dark wood paneled interior that must have given many delicate Victorian ladies refuge from the midday sun. It didn’t look as if it had changed much in the intervening years. And, sacre bleu, they had scones! This was indeed unexpected. We had thought that we would be scone free until our return to the UK. Once we had chosen our tea from the tea menu it wasn’t long before our scones arrived … toasted? No one had asked if we wanted them toasted, that’s just the way they came.
Presumably all scones come ready toasted in France
In spite of there being lashings of cream in some of the cakes on display, there was none for scones, c’est la vie. There was a selection of jam and a little pack of French butter … just like you get in the UK!? The scones were different, not unpleasant – just different. They had a fairly dry even texture which may have been partly due to the toasting. We enjoyed them but thought they fell well short of a topscone. Good enough for a top ‘French scone’. though. Bravo, the Scotch Tea House, good attempt!
Specialités Anglaises’, a tad odd for a Scotch Tea House
One of the benefits of being here is that we are almost devoid of Brexit news. Suffice to say, the French are just as perplexed as the UK on the whole sorry fiasco. We may have to all learn the gallic shrug of the shoulders accompanied with a “Quels imbéciles!”
We are joining the swallows and migrating south. Not because we are fed up with Brexit (although you can’t get any more fed up than us) but to visit my sister in Nice. Before that, however, we have a stop over in the Big Smoke! As we have often found before, finding a scone in London can be surprisingly difficult. There are endless cafés of European, Asian or even US origin but traditional English tea rooms can be few and far between.
On this occasion it led us to ask the question …. when is a scone not a scone? The answer can be found here in Café 66 in London’s SW13. It is a relatively new kid on the block and certainly wasn’t here the last time we were in town. Of course, it had to be investigated. It is what we would call ‘bijou’ … small but perfectly formed. It is operated by a delightful mother and daughter team from Poland. They could not have made us more welcome.
A spot of lunch was called for, however, as you all know by now, we like to finish things off with a scone. “Do you have scones?” we asked. “What are you saying?” It wasn’t the Scottish accent it was simply that the young girl didn’t know. “Scones. they are like a little cakes that you eat with jam and cream.” we persevered. “Eh?” Thankfully at this point mum came to the rescue “Oh, I know what scones are – in this country you have them in the afternoon with tea.” “Yes”, we exclaimed. No, we don’t have any scones“.
Energy balls
With our hopes dashed on the jagged rocks of false expectation, we looked around and had to admit that there were lots of other delicious looking alternatives. In the absence of scones, however, we decided to go for one of their ‘Energy Balls’. They are small balls of nuts and fruit bound together with syrup and honey. Perhaps it was because they reminded us of the Lithuanian scones our Trossachs correspondents had sent from Vilnius back in 2016. They were really nice – lovely texture and sweet but not cloyingly so. We did feel like we had had an energy boost. So the answer to the question is that a scone is not a scone when it’s a Polish energy ball. No, we wouldn’t have got it right either.
As we were leaving we asked mum and daughter how they felt about only having about a week left before having to return to Poland. Their puzzled look quickly dissolved into laughter when they realised what we meant. However, it was quickly followed by looks of alarm and panic. “We are going to have to eat all this food very quickly” they joked, pointing at the display cases. Perhaps not, though.
Embarrasing
The first Saturday sitting of Westminster since the Falklands War, resulted in another defeat for Boris at the hands of his own colleagues. He followed it up with an unsigned letter to the EU asking for an extension. When politics is reduced to this school boy prank level it is embarrassing. Especially when you are in the presence of two ladies who are working incredibly hard to better themselves and better the country they now live in.
The true irony is that the UK’s future may eventually be decided by the DUP. A handful of self serving politicians from N. Ireland who don’t even represent the views of the people of N Ireland. It just gets weirder and weirder. Another energy ball please!
As we left Café 66, mum produced a Mary Berry cookbook, so who knows … next time there may be scones? Now we must continue our migration south.
Tempting to overindulge but I guess it works in their favour because most folk go for fairly modest portions. Especially if others are watching .. and they are! The chocolate fudge (bottom right in the pic) was yummy.
The fabulous blackcurrant jam was made from berries picked in the gardens. The climate on Colonsay is very mild. The gardens are full of sub-tropical plants. Being able to sit outside on the little terraced area just finished off the whole experience. Later we ended up on the beach at Kiloran just a mile or so from the café. Pristine and beautiful but a sad reminder that there are bodies of children washing up on other beaches in the Mediterranean. If the EU, with all its money, cannot sort this horrendous mess out what is the point of it all?
