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Archive for the ‘Coffee’ Category

After a trip into the local metropolis of Perth for a bit of shopping the other morning, delightful assistant no.1 and I popped into the estimable Loch Leven’s Larder for a little luncheon.

There were two soups on offer: cream of celery and courgette, and curried green lentil. The delightful assistant went for the former, while I chose the latter.

I didn’t have my camera on me but I did snap my soup with my phone. It was all jolly tasty:

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Following the soup, we both fancied a bit of fresh air and exercise, and took ourselves off to the Lomond Hills in Fife.

The air was bracing and we trotted along swiftly under a lowering sky:

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We stuck to walking along the road, and were surprised by the amount of snow on the hill tracks:

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The biting wind was so cold that we imagined ourselves in the Antarctic, and paused to think of poor Ranulph Fiennes, whose recent trip there was cut short due to a horrible case of frostbite.

He had been hoping to be the first man to ski across the continent in winter, while some chums accompanied him in vehicles. The chums are now completing their expedition sans Ranulph, while he sits frustrated at home supporting the expedition from the UK. As he remarks rather wryly in this press conference, now that he’s had to pull out of the challenge, the Norwegians will no doubt step in and do the job.

I don’t know what the temperature was when we were in the Lomond Hills, but puddles by the road showed that it was above freezing. It did feel considerably colder then 0ºC due to wind chill, but nothing like it must feel right now in the depths of the Antarctic winter.

Feeling virtuous after our stretch in the open air, we sped off to the Pillars of Hercules, a wonderful organic farm shop and cafe, about which I have written on previous occasions.

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One of the many things I like about Pillars of Hercules is the seat cushions:

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I had forgotten that this place was the first cafe in Scotland to be certified 100% organic, but was reminded when reading the menu:

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We ordered our drinks and cakes at the counter and were given a number on a stick to take to the table.

It used to be the case here that when you ordered, you got a little wooden block with a number on it, and it wasn’t until I was searching around on the table for some way of making the stick stand up, that I noticed a hole in the tabletop.

Lo and behold, when I tried putting the stick in the hole, it fitted perfectly. An excellent idea, I thought (sorry for the darkness of the second picture, I don’t know what happened there):

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The delightful assistant had ordered a black coffee with cold milk and a slice of lemon cake. My photo is poor but I can assure you that the comestibles were anything but. I’m reliably informed that the coffee was lovely and I know that the lemon cake was because I tasted it – very lemony.

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I opted for a chai tea and a vegan apricot slice:

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The apricot slice exceeded my expectations. It was made with a wholewheat pastry base smothered in thick apricot jam and liberally sprinkled with seeds: sunflower, pumpkin and hemp, to be precise. I was very pleased with it.

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These little trips out that I take very regularly, often in the company of a delightful assistant or two, are a nice break from sitting staring at a computer screen and, I feel, a vital part of a healthy balanced life.

To update anyone who’s interested, this is Day 73 of the year 2013 and, in keeping with my resolution to get rid of 365 items by the end of December, I have so far managed to release 69. This means I’m four items behind in my schedule, but I have high hopes for getting rid of more stuff with a spot of spring cleaning.

I have also now completed the second draft of my novel and am putting it aside to gestate for a bit.

Any agents/publishers with a gap in their lists and looking for an average length of novel of the general fiction variety, please enquire within.

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Two days ago, hoping for a spot of sunshine, I checked the BBC weather website and discovered that the town of Callander was going to be bathed in sunshine all afternoon.

The forecast promised me a high of 5 degrees C, soaring above the 3s and 4s of further north.

Somehow I got it into my head that this equated to a fine summer’s day, and I scooped up delightful assistant no.1 and sped off towards the Trossachs*.

On the way we stopped at the splendid Gloagburn Farm Shop and Cafe for a little sustenance.

Gloagburn is home to some of the finest scones to be found anywhere on Earth (I admit I haven’t tested this terribly extensively in global terms, but all the same I feel quite confident about my assertion).

We both chose fruit scones (the delightful assistant requesting one with a ‘shiny top’), I had tea and the delightful assistant had coffee:

I could not have been more pleased with my scone’s stretch marks:

Or, indeed, the frolicsome crockery:

Refreshed and completely satisfied by our repast we tootled off Trossachswards, arriving in Callander in time for a health giving stroll before luncheon.

The sun, which had shone for a while on the journey just before Callander, had retreated behind cloud when we arrived, but nonetheless there were plenty of people out and about taking the air and enjoying riverside walks:

My glamorous assistant and I wrapped up in our woolly hats and scarves, and loped off in a westerly direction along the banks of the River Teith.

A short way along the path, a signpost indicated that if we were considering taking a dip, this would be the ideal spot in which to do it:

Despite the encouragement, there were no bathers present.

A little further on there were no pipers either:

Although most of the trees along the riverside were deciduous, and therefore bare of leaves at this time of year, there was some nice fluffy lichen to be seen:
The delightful assistant likes to say that although lacking greenery in the winter, when trees are leafless it allows you to see their beautiful shapes:
There were signs of spring in the form of a few clumps of cheerful snowdrops:
Our walk took us over a metal bridge and along a level path with snowy Ben Ledi in the background:
Given the amount of time I’ve spent in Scotland, i.e. practically my whole life, you would think I’d have a handle on the weather by now. I even had it spelled out to me in black and white by the BBC, and yet I was surprised by the fact that it wasn’t a warm, balmy summer’s day in Callander. I confess I was fooled by the robust-looking number ’5′ on the weather chart and I allowed it to give me false hopes.

I must remind myself that unless the temperature gets into the double figures, and preferably above 20 degrees C, it is not going to feel like summer.

When we’d walked our appetites up, we returned to the town for lunch in a tearoom I’d never been to before. I’ll save the details for another post, but here’s a wee taster:
*The Trossachs is the name given to the area of countryside in which Callander nestles so prettily.

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A few days ago, on a morning when the sun shone out of a blue sky for the first time in what seemed like ages, I whisked the two delighful assistants off to a big hut in Fife:

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St Andrew’s cheese farm and coffee shop

This fine establishment bills itself as “Fife’s only artisan farmhouse cheesemakers” and has been on the go for about 5 years.

I do like a bit of cheese, but what particularly attracted me to the St Andrew’s cheese farm was the fact that it had the Butterpat Coffee Shop attached to it and that, according to the website, cheese scones were likely to be on offer.

Although the sun was shining beautifully, the wind was the sort that laughs through layers of warm clothing, chilling one to the bone in seconds.

The dash from the car was astonishingly cold, but inside the cafe the sun was sweeping in through big windows warming the room like a greenhouse.

We nipped into a sunny seat and settled down to peruse the menu.

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Our table was next to one of the large windows, giving us an open view out across farmland to the sea a few miles away. There was a decking area with seating immediately outside, which I expect would be lovely to sit out on in the summer (I fully intend to return later in the year and try this out):

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The menu contained a lot of things that attracted me, including a vegetable ragu, which was the vegetarian dish of the day. However, I plumped for the vegetable soup, and could not have been more pleased about my choice. For one thing, it came with a cheese scone, made using the farm’s own Anster cheese (the farm is close to the coastal town of Anstruther, pronounced ‘Anster’ by the locals):

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I’ve eaten a fair number of cheese scones in my time, but rarely have I had one with a texture quite as magnificently fluffy as this one was. It was also, rather unusually, abounding in mustard seeds:

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The soup was a perfect partner to the scone, and was absolutely chock-full of lovely tasty chunky veggies.

Here’s a sample spoonful containing carrot, leek, celery, onion and turnip, and possibly other things I didn’t identify:

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Delightful assistant no.1 opted for the leek and potato soup, which also came with a delectable cheese scone:

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Delightful assistant no.2 bypassed the soup and went instead for a cheese and ham toastie, which came with spring onions inside, and more cheese and tomato on top:

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We were all exceptionally pleased with our food, as well as our drinks (water for me and delightful assistant no.1; apple juice for delightful assistant no.2):

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Above the cake counter were some words that I found inspiring. “….always striving to be the best we can be”:

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I look forward to seeing how things strike me on a second visit, but I can’t imagine that with any more striving they could have created a better cheese scone, or served it up with a more satisfyingly vegetable-filled hearty soup.

Following consumption of savouries, I unfortunately had no room for a sweet. I settled for a decaf cappuccino instead, which was jolly nice and had the right sort of chocolate on top (the sweet sort, as opposed to the unsweetened cocoa I’ve occasionally been shocked to receive):

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Delightful assistant no.1 had tea, and delightful assistant no.2 had the same as me but with a significant addition:

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That slab of brown cakey stuff is a slice of iced gingerbread, something that claims to be Scottish in origin. Such gingerbread is not always iced but it is often served with butter, although this seems to me a little superfluous when icing is present.

When butter is offered to either of my delightful assistants, however, it is never turned away:

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I tasted the gingerbread, with a little bit of the thick fondant icing. It was delicious and the icing melted in the mouth.

Through a door from the cafe there was a cheesemaking viewing gallery, allowing members of the public to pop in and see the cheese hard at work. You can only see this on Mondays, Tuesdays and Wednesdays and, as luck would have it, we were there on a Wednesday.

Here’s the cheese vat we saw, filled with liquid in the process of becoming cheese:

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Before leaving the cheese farm, I stopped by the cheese counter in the cafe and selected a little wedge of Anster to take home and try. The assistant did it up very nicely in a sheet of paper with a sticker to seal it up:

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Before leaving the premises I popped in to the facilities, and was delighted by lovely hand painted tiles of Fife coastal scenes above the sinks:

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I was so full after all the noshing at the cheese farm that I could easily have lasted the 1.5 hour drive home without stopping for more refreshments, but the delightful assistants twisted my arm up my back and made me stop at Culdees tearoom in Abernethy, roughly halfway home.

Delightful assistant no.1 is very partial to a piece of tiffin (a chocolate-topped biscuity traybake, usually containing some dried fruit), and I like it too but am wary because I’ve had more than one bad experience with the stuff. To my mind, the tiffin on offer at Culdees didn’t look especially appetising, but this didn’t put my delightful assistant off and on tasting a little nibble I discovered that I had completely misjudged it.

The chocolate was of a high quality and the fudgy biscuit bit underneath was almost cakey in texture, rather than biscuity. It was a very fine tiffin, and she selected a coffee to sloosh it down with:

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Delightful assistant no.2 plumped for tea and a cherry and almond slice (also excellent):

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And I fell back on that old staple, the chocolate cake (complete with two giant chocolate buttons), and a lovely pot of lemon tea:

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By the time I’d finished my last mouthful I really was fit to burst and had no room for further food, that is until teatime a couple of hours later.

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One of the nice things about January is that this is the month when Easter treats pop up on shop shelves here in the UK.

Cadbury’s Creme Eggs are one of my favourite Easter snacks, but I’ve waxed lyrical about these before (here), so instead I would like to introduce a relative newcomer to the Easter treat market, the Malteaster Bunny:

Malteaster Bunny

I don’t know exactly when the Malteaster Bunny hopped into production, but I’ve been aware of them bouncing about for the past two Easters.

When it first came out, as far as I’m aware, the Bunny was available in one size only – the 29g pack pictured above. This year, however, I’ve noticed for the first time that there is a smaller treat called the Malteaster Minibunny, which weighs in at a teeny wee 11.6g, less than half the weight of the original Bunny.

From what I’ve seen of them, Minibunnies only come in packs of five. Here is a single original sized Malteaster Bunny next to a warren of 5 Minibunnies:

Original Bunny with a warren of Minibunnies

And here is the warren, with the Bunny and then one Minibunny:

Warren, Bunny and Minibunny

Here’s a full complement of 5 Minibunnies:

5 Minibunnies

The original Bunny and the Minibunny are a little bit different from each other in shape, as well as size. Here’s a Bunny on the left with a Minibunny nextdoor:

Malteaster Bunny with Minibunny

Where the Minibunny is pretty svelte, the larger Bunny has an agreeably expansive paunch:

Fat Bunny and Minibunny

The Minibunny is just over 5cm tall and the Bunny is very nearly 9cm:

Bunny heights

Both the Bunny and the Minibunny are made of the same stuff, a thick and creamy chocolate coating round a Malteser-based centre. The centre is made up of the honeycomb crunchiness you find in Maltesers, encased in an almost fudge-like matrix. The chocolate on the ears of the Bunny, in particular, is quite glossy:

Inside the Bunny

In an attempt to find out if there was any difference in taste between the Bunny and the Minibunny, I did a blind taste test. The only discernible difference was that the Minibunny seemed to have a creamier taste, but I think this was due to me biting a bit that had thicker chocolate and less honeycomb centre than that of the Bunny.

I’m not sure what the recommended retail prices are, but when I bought them they were all on special offer and the Bunny worked out cheaper than the Minibunnies per gram.

As you would expect with any sort of chocolate, Malteaster Bunnies slip down perfectly with a cup of tea or coffee (and a piece of marmalade cake if you happen to have it):

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Bunny with bunnies

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Mimi’s Bakehouse is a tearoom I’ve been wanting to visit for some time. It’s situated in the Leith area of Edinburgh, a part of the city I know reasonably well, having inhabited three different flats in the vicinity.

Edinburgh, and Leith in particular, has been on my mind quite a bit lately. In the past couple of weeks I’ve read two Ian Rankin books set in Edinburgh, and the main character in my own novel (still under construction, currently at 25,000 words) lives in Leith.

All of this, combined with my desire to meet up with a chum who lives in the great metropolis, led to me nipping down there last week.

The day was dreich (wet, damp, dull and – some might say – a bit miserable) but, arriving a bit early, I wandered round some of my old haunts.

One never knows, on revisiting a place, quite what one’s feelings will be. I was half expecting to be irritated by the noise and traffic, put off by the general busyness of the city, which has sometimes been the case when I’ve been back to Edinburgh after my quiet life in leafy Perthshire. However, I was surprised to find that I felt happy, exhuberant and delighted to be back. Quite a few of Leith’s streets are cobbled, rather than covered with tarmac (is this known in the US as asphalt? I’ve never been too sure): I was glad to see this old chap again, a fellow I often used to walk past and bid good day to: Although some of the shops, pubs, cafes, etc. have changed since I was last here, it was reassuring to see that some looked exactly as I’d left them. This wee pub has probably looked much the same for the past 200 years, dating back as it does to 1785: Inside, Mimi’s provided a bright and welcoming contrast to the weather. Indeed, far from feeling the chill outside, the ladies on the wallpaper appeared to be feeling the heat: We opted to sit in one of the sofa areas, which was decorated with some stylish cushions: The main point of interest to my mind, however, was the cake counter. I opted for the coffee and walnut: If I’d been in a chocolate mood I would have found this creation hard to resist: And if I’d been craving the malty crunchiness of Maltesers, this little gem would have been top of my list: To go with my cake, I ordered Teapigs Chai tea, which came in a little teapot with a slice of orange on the side: The cake was heavily iced (a bit too much for me on this occasion, although if I’d been desperate for a sugar rush I’d have scoofed it back readily enough), but the sponge itself was extremely light and fluffy:

Just as coffee and walnut is one of the cakes I frequently like to try, my chum is very partial to a caramel, or millionaire, shortbread. Mimi’s had large slabs of the stuff on offer, and he jumped at the opportunity, pairing it with a cappuccino: I wasn’t too fussed about trying it, since it looked a bit heavy and solid to me, but when I tasted a little corner I was astonished by its melt-in-the-mouth texture. The biscuit, toffee and chocolate disappeared together in a most pleasant manner. It was, surely, one of the best of its kind.

Mimi’s is, altogether, rather a stylish establishment. The ladies toilet can be located by this attractive notice on the door: The black and white theme evident throughout the tearoom itself, is continued in the bathrooms: After our delicious repast, my comrade had to get back to work and I thought I’d get a little exercise by way of trotting round the Botanic Gardens, which were on my route out of the city. The colours were beautiful but it was raining quite heavily. One good thing about going to the Botanics on such a wet day was that I virtually had the place to myself, including the magnificent hot houses: While I was pounding the pavements in Leith and driving through the city, I noticed that there are lots of new tearooms that weren’t there in my day.

The trouble, if you can call it that, is that there are far more tearooms to sample than I have the capacity for. Just as I don’t expect to die with an empty in-tray, neither do I anticipate managing to consume all the cakes I would like to gorge on in this one short lifetime. If ever there were a reason for reincarnation, that must be it.

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A week ago I published a post entitled How to write a novel, which wasn’t so much a set of instructions as an update on my progress with writing one. I was pleased with myself for having hit my first 10,000 words. In the week since then I have added absolutely nothing to it.

This morning I began re-reading the first page of what I’ve written, and discovered that it’s so mindbogglingly tedious that I can’t even reach the bottom of the page without yawning my head off and wishing I was watching paint dry. Is this because I’ve read it so often, or is it because it genuinely is mind-bogglingly tedious?

I’m not sure, but it puts me in the sticky situation of not knowing what to do next. I could put the first 10,000 words to the back of my mind, pick up where I left off and keep writing regardless, or I could completely start again, rehashing the whole thing from scratch, or I could give up on it altogether, and accept that I will never write a novel.

Just at this moment, giving up seems a) the most sensible, and b) impossible. Even if every word I write is utter drivel, I don’t think I can stop myself from having a go at bashing out chapters of the stuff. Although I do think most of what I’ve written so far is excruciatingly dull, something inside me can’t seem to give it up on it.

Given this sorry state of affairs, having a bit of a whinge on my blog seemed like a refreshing balm for the soul. In fact, I feel better already, and would like to now make up for my moaning with pictures of a nice lunch I had last month in the utterly splendid bookshop and cafe, ReadingLasses (it specialises in books by women writers – rather a clever name, don’t you think?), in the small town of Wigtown.

I’ve written before about this place (here), and my most recent visit – while on holiday in Galloway with the delightful assistants – was as pleasing as ever.

It was exceptionally busy the day we popped in for luncheon, there being a busload of about 30 American tourists just having shipped in, shortly to be followed by a second busload. Each of them wanted to pay for their own meal, which led to a great deal of queueing and till-side confusion when it came to settling the bills. The way the shop is laid out, there’s not much space at the till area, indeed if you have more than one punter standing there it feels a tad cramped. We were seated near the till and the spectacle of politely shuffling tourists, peering at their strange currency and trying to remember what they’d eaten and therefore wanted to pay for, afforded us great entertainment. A small dog, that I think lives in the shop, added to the hullabaloo by getting in amongst the feet of punters and waitresses, and was clearly much excited by the sociable atmosphere.

I had been hoping for the shepherdess pie I had on my last visit here, but it wasn’t on the menu, so I plumped for a delicious sounding three bean chilli (vegan, to boot) instead. It came with crisp French bread, tortilla chips and some lettuce. The chilli was extremely hot, but the side items and a lovely glass of cool tap water helped to cool down my burning mouth. It was tasty and satisfying:

Thanks to it being, although quite substantial, also fairly light, I had room for a pudding. The puddings here are as good as the main courses, and I was tempted by the rice pud I had enjoyed previously, but then I remembered the chocolate brownie.

On the whole, I’m not much of a one for brownies, being suspicious of the sort of uncooked texture of the middle, but I had tasted one here before and recalled how exquisite it was. I took the plunge. It was served hot with ice cream, and I paired it rather decadently with an excellent decaf cappuccino:

I don’t know if that appeals to you or not, but I wish I could let you taste it. It exceeded my expectations, and even now I can lapse into a state of bliss just thinking of how the chocolate melted on the tongue and how the texture and warmth seemed to nourish my blood and make me fitter, stronger, and almost invincible. (This might be stretching things a bit, but it did make me feel magnificent, despite its artery-clogging potential.)

I can’t resist another picture of it, to emphasise the pleasure:

Delightful assistant no.1 also indulged in a dessert, and the rice pudding called to her. It was, to be truthful, more a plate of cream with some rice in it, which exactly suited her tastes:

And so, when I feel useless and unable to achieve what I’ve set out to do in the novel-writing department, at least I know I still have the ability to consume and enjoy delicious fare. Not perhaps the world’s greatest ever achievement, but eminently satisfying for me all the same.

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On Saturday morning I’m trotting off for a week’s holiday in Galloway, Scotland.

The delightful assistants have rented a house, one of the lovely Culmore Bridge Cottages, for two weeks, and I’m sneaking into the spare room during their first week, while my brother joins them later on.

In preparation for my holiday, I bought a new camera via Amazon. Sadly, the camera appears to have a fault and I don’t have time to replace it, so alas I will be without my own camera for the trip.

On the up side, delightful assistant no.1 has generously offered me the use of hers, and I do have my mobile phone camera.

On another up side I have a new gadget that works, and that I’m very pleased with. It’s a voice recorder and I have a feeling it’s going to be a great boon. No more switching on the light in the middle of the night to write down things that enter my head just as I’m dropping off to sleep, no more scribbling quickly in cafes when I’m trying to record the amusing things people say, no more sending myself texts when I’m on the hoof and think of something I don’t want to forget.

I also have 3 ‘new’ books (3 for £2 in a charity shop), which will keep me occupied if the weather encourages staying indoors:

In my opinion, one of the best things about going somewhere else is the opportunity to partake of small treats in different tearooms. One of my favourite tearooms in the whole world is located in Galloway, although I believe it may now be up for sale. I hope I get to sample it one more time in its present state:

The cakes at this tearoom have very tempting names, e.g. Vicar’s Vice, Naughty Nell, Luscious Lucy, Sophie’s Sin and, the one I opted for on my last visit, Femme Fatale (coffee and chocolate cake filled with espresso cream):

I am also hoping to revisit a small group of donkeys I took a shine to when I was down that way in April:

They took quite a shine to delightful assistant no.2, but I suspect it was a case of ‘cupboard love’, i.e. they were lured by the grass he was offering them, rather than by his considerable personal charms:

I’ve noticed a definite change in the weather here recently, a coolness that signals the start of autumn. I like a nice autumn day when you can wrap up warmly and have a brisk walk without overheating. The only season I don’t particularly care for in the UK is winter, but hopefully that’s still some way off.

The hedgerows are beginning to sprout blackberries here now, and I suspect there will be some blackberry harvesting during this little holiday. Bags of berries will be brought home and frozen, ready to add to apple crumbles over the winter. I suppose if there’s one thing I do like about winter it’s the chance to enjoy stodgy comfort food in a warm house while the cold winds blow outside.

However, in the meantime I plan to enjoy the late summer/early autumn and make the most of a little change of scene. One place I’m particularly looking forward to is Glenwhan, a spectacular privately owned garden near Stranraer that’s open to the public. Every time I visit there’s something new to see, and it’s a real haven of peace and calm:

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I found myself in Perth with delightful assistant no.2 yesterday. We were going to B&Q (a large do-it-yourself hardware emporium, for anyone unfamiliar with the company), and Perth’s central lending library, the A K Bell.

The A K Bell was closed for a few weeks recently, while it underwent a spot of refurbishment. I hadn’t seen the new look and was keen to take a peek, as well as take tea in the cafe and try to flog the library bookshop a copy or two of my book.

This is the library building from the outside. It was originally constructed as a hospital in the 1830s, and designed by a local architect called William Mackenzie:

It being quite late in the afternoon, the cafe was unusually empty, but as welcoming and delightful as I always find it:

I don’t usually admit to locations of tearooms on this blog, but it was difficult to do a post about the library without mentioning the tearoom, which is one of those featured in my book (if you haven’t bought the book to find out where my favourite tearooms are, you’ve at least got this one for free).

The tearoom has been decorated with quotes around the walls. They’re all worth a read, but I picked this Groucho Marx one as an example because it made me chuckle:

On this occasion, my delightful assistant chose a black coffee, I had tea, and we shared a large piece of Mars Bar krispie cake. He likes to have things cut up into small pieces, so I divided it into six bitesize chunks:

Suitably refreshed, we wandered into the newly done up library. This is the foyer, that has been spruced up since I last saw it, and now has the word ‘Welcome’ in silver above the entrance between the pillars:

There is  a painting of A K Bell on one side of the entrance hall:

And a colourful display of Scottish words on the other side:

Inside, the library has been much improved with new flooring and a fresh layout.

It’s a bit of a well kept secret (my delightful assistant wasn’t aware of it, despite having been to the library many times), but upstairs in the library there is a small bookshop section selling books of local interest. It was here that I was hoping to sell my own little book, and so we approached a chap at a desk near the bookshop and asked if he’d be interested.

It turned out that the person responsible for the bookshop area had left months ago and hadn’t been replaced, in addition to which the library had no money for buying new books (perhaps due to all the lovely new renovations?). So, rather than buying a few to sell, I asked if he might like to buy one copy for the library to have in their stock, but again there was a money issue and he hinted that they always hoped people would donate such books to them. He did say, however, that he would email a couple of library staff and see what he could do to try and get them to buy a copy.

Wrong-footed by this unexpected reaction, my assistant and I thanked him and wandered off. As we were ambling back towards the stairs, my quick-thinking assistant suggested that I donate a book and then at least the library would have one. I don’t know why I didn’t think of this myself, but regretfully I am a bit slow on the uptake sometimes.

Britain’s public lending libraries are something I am very grateful for, having made use of many of them over the years, and when I thought about it I realised that it would be a pleasure to give them a little book to add to their stock.  So, back we went to the chap again and donated a copy of the book.

I’m not entirely sure what happens to donations, but perhaps now if anyone wants to read about tearooms in the area without buying a book about it, they can borrow that copy from the A K Bell.

Back outside in the sunshine, we noticed a new display on the grass in front of the building. It was composed of artworks made from recycled glass, and a planted butterfly:

I feel strangely chuffed to have a copy of my book lodged in the A K Bell library, nestling amongst so many great works by authors I admire and have been inspired by.

Thank you A K Bell library, and all the other such fine institutions around the country that have supplied me with books to read for free. I salute you!

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About 30 miles south-west of Aberdeen there is a small village called Fettercairn.

I’ve passed through Fettercairn on quite a number of occasions, and each time I’ve thought that I must stop and have a look round one of these days. That day came earlier this week, when my delightful assistant and I deliberately went there for a look-see.

Fettercairn is perhaps best known for its rather splendid arch, which narrows the main street so that only one car can pass through at a time. It was built in honour of Queen Victoria and her husband Albert, who stayed overnight in Fettercairn en route to Balmoral in September 1861, and I think it’s quite a magnificent structure:

If you walk under the arch you’ll see that it’s on a bridge with a river running under the road. The view over both sides is rather attractive:

On the north side of the arch there is that most wonderful of businesses: a nice cafe. If you’re needing a little refreshment while wandering around in this area, you might do as we do and dive in there post haste.

It being the middle of the afternoon when we rolled up, I wasn’t holding out much hope for a scone, but I’m delighted to say that not only did they have scones, they had three options available: plain, fruit and – irresistible, to my mind – walnut and apricot:

My delightful assistant was more in the market for an iced cake, and plumped for a slice of the generously three-tiered coffee and walnut sponge cake:

Both the scone and the cake were excellent, the scone being a most interesting texture with chewy apricot and crunchy walnuts, and the cake being intensely coffee flavoured. My scone was fairly studded with small apricot and walnut lumps:

We both washed our eats down with decaf lattes, which were also extremely good.

Great success so far, but what of the facilities? I had a feeling they might be interesting and so I trotted off to investigate. I wasn’t disappointed:

One area of the cafe had been given over to young visitors, and was very well equipped, with a large assortment of reading material as well as toys and games:

A sign on the wall read “We’re here for you to play! While mummy drinks coffee and chats away!”

Near the counter there was a small sofa with some attractive cushions on it. This was my favourite one:

Enlivened by our refreshments, we trotted outside to have a look at the village square, which contained some nice stone buildings:

The Fettery Shoppe was selling luscious looking plump red strawberries, and we bought a punnet. I would have included a photo of them here but they sadly disappeared before I thought of it.

If you’re ever driving up or down the country to or from Aberdeen and have a little time to spare, I would highly recommend a little detour into the pretty village of Fettercairn, and a good old gaze at the arch.

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Scotland has a lot of lochs (‘loch’ is Gaelic for ‘lake’).  I’m not sure what the most famous one would be, perhaps Loch Lomond, or Loch Ness, but there are lots of others worth a peep, and one of those is Loch Earn in Perthshire.

As is the case with many of Scotland’s lochs, Loch Earn is long and narrow, and jolly nice for bobbing about on in a kayak, or just gazing at from the shore.

At the eastern end of Loch Earn lies the pretty village of St Fillans. That’s it over there, on the other side from where I was standing taking this photo:

One day not so long ago, my delightful assistant and I trotted off to St Fillans for a lochside stroll, followed by luncheon in the wonderfully relaxing Four Seasons Hotel.

It was getting on for 2.30pm by the time we rolled up for lunch (I’m relieved to report that we had stopped for tea and scones en route) and they’d stopped serving their full menu in the restaurant. They were pleased, however, to offer us sandwiches in the bar area instead, which suited us very well, especially as we had it all to ourselves:

I chose a cheese and chutney sandwich, which came with crisps and a few interesting little leaves. I forget now what my glamorous assistant had, and appear not to have any photographic evidence, but she also had a sandwich of some sort.

Usually, in a hotel in a small place like this, I might expect there to be one or two types of black tea, and maybe a selection of fruit teas, but I was very pleasantly surprised by the Four Seasons menu:

My assistant opted for the Mysore rich coffee (which came in a large cafetiere containing five cupfuls), and I had Lapsang Souchong tea (which came with enough hot water for five cupfuls – 10 hot beverages between the two of us!), with a couple of pieces of home-made shortbread on the side. We sat there, very contentedly, enjoying the restful calm of the hotel bar and delighting in the splendid view from our window seats:

On our way out of the hotel, we passed the hotel’s interesting lounge:

While driving through the village to the hotel, we had noticed an attractive looking church. I wasn’t really expecting it to be open, but fancied a closer look all the same:

I don’t seem to have a record of the name of this church, I did a quick Google search but couldn’t find it.

To make up for this lack of information, I’ll relate an interesting bit of recent history about the village of St Fillans.

In November 2005, a builder began creating a housing development at the east end of the village. His plans meant disturbing a big lump of rock that, according to legend, was home to fairies. The locals did not want him upsetting their fairy community, and persuaded the builder to change his plans in order to leave the rock alone. The rock now forms the centrepiece of a little park in the middle of the building development, and the fairies are – so I’m told – happily still in situ.

As it happens, the church was, to my great delight, open for viewing. It was quite plain inside, but very restful:

There were a number of bibles on the pews and I flicked open the cover of this one, perhaps because it was unusually imprinted with the name of a well-known Scottish regiment:

Inside the front cover there was a letter, dated 11 February 1946, to a Major Stewart. The first couple of paragraphs read: ” I hope you will not mind my taking the liberty of sending you the 6th BW Bible for custody.  For security reasons I was advised to leave it at home when we sailed for North Africa! Many a time its larger print would have been useful for lesson-reading in the odd and sometimes dark places in which we worshipped.”

After an enjoyable time soaking up the ecclesiastical atmosphere, we stepped out into the sunshine again, and the view of knobbly hills across the loch from the church steps:

If you happen to be passing through this bit of the country (and it is quite a popular tourist area being near The Trossachs National Park) I can recommend a detour through St Fillans.

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