Took the train to Ayr today. About an hour’s ride on the all-stops route, it was pleasant to sit and read. Very quiet car today.

Ayr is best known for being the birthplace of the poet Robert Burns. Gotta be honest, not a huge poetry fan. Still found enough to do to make it a lovely day. 

Ayr is also a beach town. The body of water is called the Firth of Clyde,  or the mouth of the Clyde river. I was lucky, the tide was just out when I showed up. There’s no waves, just the water slowly coming in. Kinda weird for an Oregon person. Found some rocks and some very happy dogs.

After a nice walk on the beach, I found the high street and mailed some cards. 

The main attraction downtown is a old church, the Auld Kirk, of St John the Baptist. It’s a Scottish Presbyterian church and staffed by some really welcoming volunteers.  I got a neat tour from someone who had been going there since 1953. What a treat.

After that I was ready to go. I skipped the Burns museum. 

There was just time back in Glasgow to go to the Mackintosh. It’s some kind of arts and events center focusing on design. Architecture really isnt my thing, but it was neat because it has a viewing platform thats free, and some neat information about civic projects across Scotland. Also a small museum of Mackintosh related material. Would highly recommend for architecture fans.

Mackintosh once designed a tea shop for a famous lady in Glasgow, and that is something I *can get behind, because nearby is a famous tea shop with the same set up. I’ve never had a real tea, so….off I went. It was fancy and fun.

It was still light, so I wandered around the Necropolis, the local businessmans cemetery. It also gives good views of the downtown area. The  Necropolis is apparently an important European cemetery. Maybe I’ll make that a focus of my trip this time. I do enjoy a good graveyard.

It was finally dark enough to call it a day. Home to my bunk and have some herbal tea to relax.

Since no pics of the Burns museum…

Here is a famous poem by Robert Burns ..or at least the first part of it. Its called Tam O’ Shanter.  It’s long…

When chapman billies leave the street,
And drouthy neebors, neebors meet,
As market-days are wearing late,
An’ folk begin to tak the gate;
While we sit bousing at the nappy,
And getting fou and unco’ happy,
We think na on the lang Scots miles,
The mosses, waters, slaps and styles,
That lie between us and our hame,
Whare sits our sulky sullen dame,
Gathering her brows like gathering storm,
Nursing her wrath to keep it warm.

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