I have no idea how many times in the past thirty five years I must have driven that section of the A702 which runs from the M74 (and, way back when, the A74) to the outskirts of my home city of Edinburgh. Hundreds certainly. It's an interesting road to drive. Some fine long straights where overtaking is possible, some twisty sections, lots of ups and downs and some great views - especially when there's snow on the ground.
There's only one town of any size, Biggar, where we've stopped a few times to eat. Every Hogmanay they build up an immense bonfire in the main square, which must be some sight once lit, although I've only ever seen the before and after scenarios. Otherwise there are a couple of villages that are a bit more than just a cluster of houses, but most are of the 'blink and you'll miss it' variety. Any stops we've made in them in the past have reflected a need to clean up cat sick or poo....
West Linton is an exception in that the main road effectively bypasses the village itself. You see the garage and hotel, but most of the place is hidden down the hill. Pointing that way is a tourist sign saying "Historic Conservation Village", so we've often said we should pay it a visit one day. Today was the day.
Visiting IKEA meant we were already on the southern edge of the city. We returned some items that hadn't quite worked out as we hoped, and I went in search of those traces of my human spirit which deserted me last time around. It's not really a place of undiluted joy, is it?
West Linton is only about ten miles further on. We followed the sign down the hill and drove along the main street. Hmm, a tourist attraction without a car park, that's interesting. In the end we stopped on a road overlooking a park which sat on the bank of a small river. Picturesque. And had a walk around, looking for the excitement. Or something.
This is Main Street where, as you can see, it all happens.
There's a book shop, always a promising sign of cultural life. It was closed.
The window informs us the opening hours are between two and five. Obviously more than long enough for anyone needing to choose their reading matter.
Part of the window display looks like this.
They must get a lot of horse riders moseying on in to town looking for the route to the deep south.
There are a few pretty buildings.
That'll explain the Conservation bit then.
There's a village clock tower too.
Very economical of them to only have clock faces on two sides, facing the main road. Maybe people on the other side never cared about being late?
See, the bank, how pretty it looks.
See, the bank, how closed it is....
Even the bus is there more often.
You wouldn't want to miss one though.
But they have had a famous resident, no wonder that 'Historic' moniker applies.
No, I've never heard of him either.
The church and churchyard are very attractive, well kept, a credit to the village.
And they certainly make sure their war memorial is well flowered.
After this frenzy of enlightenment we needed something to eat and drink. The Bistro looked a bit too formal for a snack. The Deli not appealing enough to supply the components of a decent picnic. The Hotel was back up the hill and we couldn't be bothered looking. Which left The Olde Toll Tea House. At least that gave us a chance to sit in the sun, overlooking the park.
The service was, erm, of village variety. He asked me twice what I wanted and still something different (but similar) turned up. I didn't have the heart to point it out, I think I might have hurt his feelings.
And Barbara's latte arrived in an unusual choice of mup, or was it a cug?
But the day wasn't wasted. There was some genuine entertainment on hand. This dog was funny.
What does anyone actually do here? I think we may be city people....
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