Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
Day 15 - Another food festival
Neilston to Crianlarich - 42 miles
We awoke to the sound of something falling through the letterbox. We had only been in
our new house for one night, and already people were sending us post. I staggered down-
stairs in my pants and discovered a scattering of five disposable razors and a gel bike seat
lying on the doormat.
'Ben?' I shouted upstairs. 'Why has somebody posted razors and a gel seat through the
door?'
'Huh? Oh, that will be that guy from last night. Dave, I think his name was - the bloke
who bought us soup.'
'How do you know?'
'Cos he said we were looking scruffy and he was going to give us some razors so we
could shave.'
'Oh. What about the gel seat?'
'That's for you. He went to have a look at our bikes by the bins last night, and then said
he couldn't believe you'd been riding such an uncomfortable looking bike.'
We got our things together and managed to tidy up the mess that we had created in the
kitchen just as Les arrived to check on his house. We thanked him for his immense generos-
ity and asked him to pass on our thanks to all the others at The Traveller's Rest.
Wewere onthe roadat arespectable 9am. Itwasacold butclear morning. The first three
miles were downhill all the way, and we freewheeled into Paisley on the lookout for break-
fast. Paisley is a town in itself, but it has gradually been swallowed up by nearby Glasgow.
At the time, we were both extremely disappointed with Paisley town centre. We cycled
around for 15 minutes looking for any sign of life, but couldn't find a single shop or café
that was open. It was as though it was the end of the world, but someone had forgotten to
tell us.
Having since done some Googling, I have discovered that Paisley does in fact have a
town centre with a nice looking pedestrianised shopping street. This somehow managed to
elude us.
As we were leaving town we came across a café called Korner Kitchen. Inside, there was
a queue of three workmen all waiting for their breakfast.
The café was run by two loud, smiling ladies. We watched as they flipped bacon, fried
eggs and poured tea with a genuine love and enthusiasm for their job. By the time it came
to our turn to be served, they had already clocked us and had raised their eyebrows at our
clothes. We did differ slightly to their usual clientele of boiler-suit clad workmen.
'What can I get you two hunky lads?' said the younger of the two ladies.
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