Postcards From Across the Pond

A few weeks back, we bought new suitcases. The reason was, the nested set we had included four, two of which we never used. This seemed wasteful, so we gave them away and bought two new ones, both having the dimensions of the ones we had been using. Strangely, when we got them home, they seemed awfully big. So, I went back and bought the next size down, meaning we now have a nested set of three suitcases, one of which we will never use.

And this is why I went on a ten-day holiday with everything packed in an overnight case.

I tried that on my first trip to Ireland, and it did not go well, but I have learned to pack better and, face it, I don’t need the volume of gear I did on that trip: we’re staying in a hotel, not slogging around the countryside in the rain.

Even so, I did manage to squeeze in a waterproof and a jumper because, although it was 90 degrees and sunny when we went to Shetland and Orkney, and almost as hot and sunny when we went to the Outer Hebrides, we were expecting the weather on this trip—to the Inner Hebrides—to a bit more “atmospheric.”

Like the first two trips in this trifecta, we initially spent a few days in Glasgow to enjoy the city. (No, really, they’ve cleaned it up and it’s very nice, honest.) But before I get into the meat of the holiday, I am afraid I’m going to comment on the accommodation.

I have reviewed the Premier Inn’s Premium rooms a number of times, so I won’t go into that again. What I will point out, for the room, the hotel itself, and the Economy-Plus seats I bought for the plane trip, is the unabashed enshittification this signifies.

The Premier Premium rooms are, in fact, simply what standard rooms used to be, just like Economy-Plus seats on airplanes are what Economy seats used to be. What you are paying for is not something extra, it’s to get what you always used to get, while other people are paying for less than they used to get.

And this time, the hotel itself has suffered enshittification. It used to be, when we arrived, there were two stations, both staffed by pleasant young people ready to assist you with checking in. Now, there are three self-serve kiosks. If you need help (and trust me, you will) you need to find the guy who is tending the bar and minding the restaurant. One downside to this reduction in staff becomes apparent as soon as your automated check-in robot issues your room key: every door, and all the elevators, are now secure. You can’t go anywhere without your key card. Even when you enter the secured stairwell, you can’t get out of it unless you have your key card.

Lack of staff was also apparent at breakfast, where absence of basic breakfast necessities assured guests that the £15.00 Continental Breakfast was not worth it. Perhaps they could offer a Premium Breakfast for £17.50 where milk and croissants were actually available.

But I digress.

On our first day, while waiting for our Premier Plus room, we visited the Tenement exhibit, which turned out to be a good thing. It was nice, but small, so it didn’t take much time, and wouldn’t have been appropriate for a full day. But the trip out and back took up some of the afternoon and it was really interesting, and nostalgic.

Along the way we stopped for the loo at Queen Street Station, which was guarded by turnstiles that cost 50p to get through. And ALL the turnstiles appeared to be out of order. We were about to abandon the idea when a guy came down, pulled a turnstile forward a bit, slipped past and got in.

“That’s how we do it in Glasgow,” he said.

Also, the handicapped gates had a button on the other side that, when pushed, opened them up to allow you to get out. So, I went to the loo, and when I came out my wife was herding people through the handicapped gates: “Go though, it will stay open. Now push the button. Yes, that one on the wall. Three of you can get though now. Last one through, push the button …”

The next day, we took the train to Loch Lomond.

It was a nice ride and the weather throughout the day went from cloudy and cool to sunny and warm. We walked a path around a bit of the lake, up to the castle (which was a disappointment) and back to the town of Balloch.

On the third day, the weather convinced us to stick close to home, so we went to the Burrell Collection, which involved a short train ride to the Pollok Country Park. It was mightily impressive, and displayed in a huge building (a complex, really) that was as much a work of art as the items inside. We wandered around for an hour and a half, had tea and scones in the massive restaurant, then went to see more of the collection. It was amazing.

Seriously, if you are ever in Glasgow and have half a day free, go see it. The one niggle I have is this: the collection is massive, and the building is massive, and the restaurant is massive, and there is ONE GUY manning the till and taking food orders and handing out servettes. The fuck? Seriously, there were dozens of people sitting around in the display areas doing sod all, put them to work in the kitchen!

After the collection, we wandered further into the massive park to see the highland cows. We knew they were there because there were signs everywhere pointing the way. And when we got to them, many others were also there admiring them. And in the gift shop, you could buy stuffed highland cows, pencils with highland cows on them, highland cow erasures, potholders, tea cosies, woolly hats, fridge magnets, key chains, and anything else you can imagine. As my wife noted, “The unicorn is the official animal of Scotland, but they should make it the highland cow.”

She’s right; I saw nary a unicorn in that gift shop, but more highland cows than you could shake a highland cow ruler at.

Next: More of Glasgow and a bit of Edinburgh.