Scottish Sunday

Sunday in Glasgow. A fine day, and out walking along a path beside a stream, bird-watching. When you stop and look, so many differents birds, quite surprisingly many. And looking at, looking for birds takes the eye away from the pollution, the plastic, the shoppng trollies, that befoul the stream. However, overall it was lovely, a very British thing to do. And our destination a pub. Only ten years old, D says, but it looks the real thing. So, maybe made of plaster board, but the beams are solid & genuine, and it has an open fire. None of those nasty gas imitations here. The pub’s full of families eating and drinking … it’s near a shopping centre so I don’t think these people have walked here, though some look as though they would benefit from a long walk, or three. But the atmosphere’s good, and if the food is average … but perhaps the Sunday roast was the ‘right’ choice … the beer is good. Just a half of some real ale. Not enough to make me sleepy … there’s the walk home after all … but enough to make it all a very British experience.


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