The redemption of Pitlochry (delayed broadcast)

It rained, again, on our second full day in Pitlochry. Around about midday we both got a case of cabin fever and ventured into the wet, to get lunch; the less said about that desultory, expensive experience the better. We followed it up with another walk to the Salmon Lift (sorry for the picture doesn't do it justice; there are 34 sections!):



We didn't manage to see any Real Live salmon through the viewing chamber this time - but we did, once again, have to cross a suspension bridge over a lovely river:



After whiling away the afternoon with some serendipitously discovered West Wing, we decided to treat ourselves to a good dinner, at the restaurant you can see next to the bridge (above). And very nice it was too - complemented by a good-natured argument in the corner between two rather inebriated fellows about how long one of the fishing rods on the wall was. James' involvement in this discussion got us an invitation to their table to help them drink a bottle of 'pudding wine' (dessert wine to us; Sauterne, to be precise). They were perfectly lovely gents to us colonials.

Walking home from dinner at 9.45 in just-nearing-sunset light was slightly surreal, but that, my friends, was the Redemption of Pitlochry.