There’s always some fast food place that leaves a bad taste in your mouth.

(Part Five of the 'Tripping Up In Scotland Tales.')

Taking A Load Off.

We'd spent a fine fortnight up here in bonny Scotland,
Long days wanderin' new highways and olden byways,
Then, when footsore and selfie stick felt heavy in hand
We'd stop at one of a plethora of quaint old skool cafes.

Testing the legend of the warm genial Scottish host-
Truly, we had had to rate Scots hospitality A+ so far-
Aye, we were happy to prove theirs had been no idle boast-
Oh, but, after that day, at the sad cafe- sorry, but no cigar.

                       - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Up, up and on toward Edinburgh Castle we gamely strode
Following ancient footsteps up the hallowed Royal Mile,
At the crest we had a rest, turned, took the downhill road,
Seeking succour, a tearoom, a host with a welcoming smile.

So, into the handy Do Drop Inn we duly tottered wearily in,
The hostess glared up from weighing up her overfull till,
A look at her displayed fare showed our pickings were thin,
This quick stop in for hearty repast was fast going downhill.

We bypassed the iffy egg sandwich with its turned up crust,
Didn't try the pre-war tea pot with the tannin-stained spout,
Bought a can of Coke and pre-wrapped teacake rather than trust
The green cream covered pikelets that may well have laid us out. 

We paid our surly hostess, parked it in a cold hard dark booth,
Looked to our hostess for either a napkin or a smile, in vain,
So, to my flint-faced skin-flint hostess I offer this hard truth-
Should we return, och aye, we'll nae come near 'ere again.

                                         'What? No tip???' 


(Song for this post is 'Hungry Heart' by Bruce Springsteen. 

©Obbverse.

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