#26 - Angus, Angus and Angus...go to Angus

Arbroath, Scotland

So I've just got back from completing #26 on my list...paying homage to my Celtic ancestry and visiting, for the first time, wee bonnie Scotland.

Angus and Angus - with the other Angus taking the photo

Being born and brought up in Wolverhampton, you rarely stumble across another Angus - unless of course you hang around outside Burger King. I've always been quite proud of the uniqueness of our family name although our immediate family heritage traces us back to the North-East and Newcastle so the Scottish link has been somewhat diluted as the generations have gone by.

My primary school teacher, Mr Thomas, clearly missed his natural vocation in life as a stand-up comic - he never failed to have the rest of the class in hysterics when he'd say to me 'Angus me coat-up'. Hilarity prevailed clearly. Although my personal favourite is always "if you 'miss the 'g' in your name then you're really in the sh*t". Comedy gold...albeit a tad crude. I should probably say that Mr Thomas didn't come up with that one and went on to have a distinguished career in primary education.

This could have read Gill Brothers On Tour

In recent years, my eldest brother Ian has become quite the geneologist; tracing back our family history to mole catchers assistants in Shropshire on my maternal side and fish gutters from the north-east on the paternal side. But a strange anomaly cropped up on my grandad Angus' side. It appears grandad's dad was born after his 'father' had died. For the Only Fools & Horses fans amongst you, it's a bit like Trigger's family tree: "I never knew my dad...he died a few years before I was born". It looks as if great-great-grandma Angus might have had my great-grandfather by another man, but the child kept the Angus name. Sadly, we'll never know whether my grandad knew that or not; but in all probability, I should, really be known as Jamie Gill right now. Of course, that would make the heading of this blog rather redundant.

Lunan Bay...just north of Arbroath

Still, there's Scottish blood in there somewhere and it's a beautiful country which I've never visited.

So, this weekend, Ian, Alex and I made the 800+ mile round trip to the land of our forefathers (well, someone's forefathers anyway).

When I think of Scotland, I think of the craggy, heathland terrain, glacier mountain tops overlooking crystal blue lochs with locals swigging the finest malt whiskeys by an open, crackling fire against a backdrop of kilts, sporrans and bagpipes.

We went to Arbroath. I can assure you none of the above were present. In fact, to quote one of our party, Arbroath is "deprivation with a splash of quaintness".

An engineering and fishing town on the eastern coast, just north of Dundee, Arbroath has real historical significance - it's the home of the 'Declaration of Arbroath', the declaration of Scottish independence in 1310. But it's clearly a town struggling in recent years with the economy and traditional industries in decline.

Still, it's in the heart of Angus; which, according the tourism board is the birthplace of Scotland.

The harbour at Arbroath 

We booked into our B&B (The Brambles - if you're ever in town stay there, Murial and Wooly are lovely) before heading down to the harbour-side where there are some impressive coastal views overlooking the cold, menacing-looking North Sea. 

We spent Friday night exploring the town and taking in a few local taverns. To say it was cold on Friday would be an understatement. In fact, to quote the portly Scotsman stood next to me at the pub urinal "Jeez, it's so cold in here I think my hands have grown". Again, think about that one...there you go. 

Alex and I at Lunan Bay

We finished the night with a local delicacy. Protected by the EU, a bit like Melton Mowbray pies and Champagne, the Arbroath 'Smokie' is sold practically everywhere. It's a smoked fillet of haddock which has to have been caught within a certain radius of the town. It was surprisingly tasty - but left all three of us gasping for water in the middle of the night as its salt content took at least three years off our life expectancy...and I'm sure my ankles have swelled through water retention ever since.

Saturday morning saw us rise early and take a short car trip up the coast to the beautiful and picturesque, albeit bitterly exposed, Lunan Bay. We then headed further north to the fairly unimpressive and forgettable town of Montrose.

In the afternoon, we were to visit Gayfield Park, the home of Arbroath's football team, to take in the relegation 'six-pointer' against fellow strugglers East Fife. (This windy experience will be part of my next blog.)

On Saturday night, having been frozen to our cores at the football, we made our way back to the local taverns we'd visited the night before; supped a few more McEwan's ales before deciding the give the local nightclub 'DeVito's' (that's right, bizarrely named after the pint-sized Hollywood star, Danny DeVito) a wide berth and headed for a traditional Arbroath curry - with a proprietor who seemingly graduated from the same school of customer service as Basil Fawlty.

We decided against a night in DeVito's

On arrival we asked for a table for three, she asked 'have you booked?'. We replied 'no', to which, seemingly put out by our brazen attempts to eat in her establishment, she looked around at the half empty restaurant, huffed, then led us to a pokey table where we were jammed in between the coat stand and another table of diners.

It would make a classic Gordon Ramsay Kitchen Nightmare episode with the over-bearing owner leaning over and hawkishly watching the every move of the poor waitress. Then followed a dead-pan debate with Alex about whether you have onion salad or onion chutney with poppadoms. For me, I personally like my curry served with lashings of sarcasm and a side order of face like a smacked-ar*e'.

Still, it added to the entertainment of what was a great weekend. Arbroath's a nice little town and probably a good base to stay for a day or two if you're heading further north to the Highlands for a holiday.

I get the feeling there is Scottish blood in our DNA...but I'm glad our ancestors headed south...if only because it's a lot warmer down here!

So, #26 - visit Scotland....done.

I'll leave you with this...which always makes me want wine gums...