Tonight We Eat Haggis

South Scotland and Wales have been our destinations for the past two days. On Sunday the 5^th we stayed at the Carlyle House B & B in Ecclefechan Scotland, the birthplace of Thomas Carlyle. For those of you who may not be familiar with the writings of  Carlyle, he is the author and economist who dubbed economics “the dismal science”.  Well it was wet and dismal at his birthplace. 

Haggis Fritter

Haggis Gobbler

But since it was our last night in Scotland we went down to the Cressfield Hotel www.cressfieldhotel.co.uk for dinner. They served haggis and we felt obliged to eat it, which we did. Quite tasty. Actually, the food was the best I had in Scotland. And I would recommend the dinning room to anyone.

As is always the case, guys were hanging around the bar watching football (a/k/a soccer).  I got a job serving! 

Serving the boys on a wet Scottish night

 

 

 

Sunday was a tough day in the saddle. We went all the way to Welshpool, Wales. The problem is that in the UK there is no standard currency. I kid you not. When we were in Northern Ireland we got pound notes drawn on Belfast banks, and they were not well received in Scotland. Then Scotland issued pound notes on their banks, and the English did not accept them. And the Welsh would not accept the Scotch notes tonight for fish and chips dinner. Coins are good. But I would think that so long as the note has the queen’s visage on it the note should be good throughout the UK. 

So the threat of the Exchequer that the Scots will not be permitted to use the pound if they vote for independence is pretty empty. I am finding that the pound is kind of a local currency and not accepted around the world like dollars and Euros.

I am recovering from the injury, but the beds in B & Bs are a bit soft and not helping to heal the muscle. I think I will need a chiropractor to  move some bits around. The B & Bs are nice and cost about 30 pounds per night. The hostel in Edinburgh cost 22 pounds per night. So I think the UK is a little costly.  

One last comment. When I tell people where we are going they always seem to have a route that the local motorcyclists love. It is usually described as a “lovely ride”. But when pressed they admit the route would take three days upon the slow back roads. Rick and I take a “lovely ride” from time to time when we get lost or the gps gives us the most direct route. That means it is slow.