BEWARE ALL YE WHO ENTER HERE

In the pub last night Henry was gravely heard to pronounce that snow was on the way. A drive to the Cairngorms proved him correct, although it was only light flurries. However, it seemed one couple had frozen in memoriam on the roadside - after a bit of a tiff, judging by their attitudes:



To avoid a similar fate, we stopped at the Spittal of Glenshee for a bite of lunch. A dire warning in the entryway alerted us that in its 1000 year history the Spittal of Glenshee had burned down 15 times. As the insurers estimate that it will not burn down again until 2029AD, we decided it was safe to venture inside. Which might have been a slightly cavalier attitude in retrospect.

There was a young Indian chap serving behind the bar, evidently part of a larger family lately from Bangladesh who have taken on the hotel's management. It was good to note he wanted to be part of the local 'scene' but the full national dress, especially as his kilt was several sizes too large, might have been overdoing it. A conversation with a local tradesman sporting an extremely broad Scottish brogue might have fared better with a translator as they were both equally confused by the other's accent, but some universal hand signals appeared to sort matters between them.

Tartan wallpaper, jolly snowmen in jerkins and piped bagpipe music completed this Scottish pub experience.



Alarmingly, our Indian friend decided the log fire wasn't blazing enough, so he picked up a can of paraffin and poured it over the logs. The leaping flames attested that this worked a treat, but we are pretty sure his sporran got mighty singed. And it certainly explains why the Spittal of Glenshee has a history of going up in smoke, if this particular ancient art of fire-making is the one that has been passed down through generations of its hoteliers.