Ahhh, Edinburgh...
Home of the famous festival: perhaps the most sophisticated city in Scotland.

Perhaps.

Mrs Mork and I went to Edinburgh for a weekend with some old schoolfriends, but, due to making our minds up at the last minute, we couldn't get into the lovely plush appartment that the others had booked. Instead we had to take our chances with a B&B. We should have known when we say the sign banning "guests" from rooms.

The house had parking round the back. Unfortunately, you had to park in a line so, if you were not at the back of the line you had to find the other guests and ask them to move their cars. Also, there was a side gate. The owners assured us that, during the day the gate would be open. It would be locked after 11pm but, if you were out just park your car on the front drive and move it in the morning.

OK, so that afternoon we go back to our room and get ready for the evening out with our chums. Come six pm we go to get our car out, but the side gate is locked. So we ring the bell to summon the owners. The owners do not appear. Instead three surly teenage girls mooch out of the kitchen and ask us what we want. The conversation can be summarised as follows:

"We'd like you to open the side gate, please."

"Can't"

"Why not?"

"Don't have a key."

"Well, what are we supposed to do."

"Get a bus, or a taxi."

"Well, will you pay for that?"

"No"

Things got a bit tense, when one of the girls went back into the kitchen and found the gate key to let us out.

Oh, and the landlady wanted paying up front, and didn't take cheques, so I had to go out up the street to the cash machine before she would give us our key.

Breakfast was at 8:15am. We turned up at 8:10am to find the breakfast room locked.

Oh yes, real regal Scots hospitality.
(Mork, Mon 21 Jan 2008, 12:07, 2 replies)

regal indeed
I was at the home of scottish rugby union the other weekend (Murrayfield for those of a football persuasion). I'd travelled up that glorious morning with my blessed father. We got to Murrayfield at around 1pm for a 3.30pm kick off.

Normally rugby grounds open 2 hours before kick off, so we thought we'd check. - Nope not a hope won't open until 2pm. - Bollocks - an hour to kill - we'll try the ice rink next door for a cup of tea.

knock, knock on the door - begbie's ugly cousin opens the door clad head to toe in burberry with his one surviving tooth blackened by feck knows what hanging over his bottom lip.

"wha they feck yeh wan?"

"ummm - is there a cafe?"

"nah hockey only"

"ok..."

so I legged it to the pub instead - lovely guinness and none of begbie's cousins.

thank you scotland - obviously you only want the english to spend money on alcohol!
(twiceydrinker hmmm is it pint time?, Mon 21 Jan 2008, 13:47, closed)

Scottish stereotypes
There's an old joke about Scottish hospitality and how it varies around the country. It's about the response one gets by turning up on the doorstep of a house around teatime in various cities:

Glasgow - "Ye'll have some tea"

Aberdeen - "Have ye had yer tea?"

Edinburgh - "Ye'll have had yer tea".
( K2k6 has a proper job these days, Mon 21 Jan 2008, 13:53, closed)