Anvil!

I entered Scotland on the motorway so, alas, no piper to herald my arrival. I did listen to Biffy Clyro though which I think just about counts. I wasn’t exactly welcomed at the caravan park, more told off for not obeying the big STOP signs. I don’t know why the lady was so annoyed, caravan parks are hardly Times Square and the V-Dub was only carrying one gas canister! Thanks to some of the great websites (I really recommend The Happy Campers) and guides available, we normally camp in places a bit more ‘wild’ than Braids Caravan Park. It was at the other end of the spectrum from Henry’s! Very old-fashioned and much more for the motor-home crowd. We nestled in between some gleaming white homes on wheels and, despite my initial misgivings, still had a nice evening. In the morning it really amused me when, almost in perfect sync, the men emerged from the surrounding vehicles and began to clean them. One man was on a stepladder scrubbing the roof (who will ever see up there?!), another was sorting out the chemical toilet, the other buffing his windscreen. I think these people were on holiday, but it was hard to tell. Before leaving Gretna I decided to pay a visit to the Old Blacksmith’s Shop…or should I say, complex. Actually it was nowhere near as bad as Land’s End, it was much more discreet and tasteful plus a tartan shop really doesn’t offend me much. Except that the ‘clan’ computer denied any knowledge of the Steeles. I did snatch a look at the MacLean tartan, dodging Japanese tourists who seemed to be buying the stuff in reams. Apparently you can do ‘joke’ anvil weddings which appealed to me, but the only suitable chap was pedalling into the wind about 20 miles north of the place. Ah well!

While waiting for Ben at the Abington services I read this amusing article about service stations in the UK from the Observer Magazine. I liked the tone and overall sentiment. Yes they might be over-priced, but they are pretty handy, especially on a trip like this!

Scenic route of the trip so far: A73 from Abington to just outside Lanark. I had to resist the urge to get out and take photos otherwise I’d never have made it to Cumbernauld. It seemed like the essence of Southern Scotland, to me anyway.

Irn Bru of the day: 11am in Gretna Green