Trip to Dumfries

Off down that road through West Linton and over the hills to Moffat for a spot of lunch with the sis before arriving at Dumfries. Off we strolled to meet up with R&E for a pre-theatre eat at something called Truffles Bistro. But blimey, what’s happened to Dumfries in the fifty years since I was a regular visitor as a lad with my Grandad? The streets were deserted and the buildings unbelievably shabby. The fine big stores closed and departed. I remember a quite different town, a busy town, with great shops and bustling pavements. 
Anyway, enough of this old man reminiscing, but it really did sadden me to think of that departed world. Still, the womenfolk treated us to a couple of impromtu Burns’ songs written in the house across the street, and the meal was a jolly chatty affair despite the glum faced restauranteur who wanted to sell us the 90 day aged steak or whatever. And so to the theatre. The Theatre Royal, no less. Indeed, where Burns and his party were when, famously and scandalously, calls were made to sing the French Revolutionary song ‘Ca Ira’ instead of God Save the King. 
I digress. The show was Brandon Barrett: Brain Access. Look, we were only there to pass the time. At the interval, we judged that enough time had passed and we legged it to The Globe, by a circuitous route. And what a most enjoyable time we had. That Burns knew a decent pub, I’ll give him that.