Crinan: the Long Read

The alarm went off at seven. Dark dark dark! By quarter past there was a slight light beginning to creep into the sky; we got the navigation lights on and slipped the lines. Into Crinan to find another boat in the sea lock. Hurrah! And then another waiting above the basin. So Roger didn’t have to do all the work on his own. Just half of it as one of the boats baled out at the bottom of the flight up to Cairnbaan. Onward to Ardrishaig where we called it a halt at lock four. Well, it was getting on and Scotland had an early kick off. And BM, but we came from behind twice, missed a penalty and scored an injury time winner! I almost forgot I was drinking Tennant’s Lager.
We then sloped off down the street to find a restaurant (joke!) but coming past the Rumblin Tum, the chef was outside being harangued by some woman. Look she says, spying us, they want fed too, aye lads? You're not coming in, it’s a private event he repeated. We slunk off, but looking round, we saw them entering. The chef defeated.
In we went. I said, we’ll take anything, sandwiches even. He wearily waved us to a table. Meanwhile the woman pushed on. While the supper club or whatever sat in view in the adjoining room, she demanded two pints of lager. No drinks in the cafe said the waitress. They’re haen drinks - she pointed at the diners. At this the chef reappeared. No drinks. Up she swayed. Youse’ll be sorry in the winter when yiv tae rely on locals! And out she stomped with her wee mute man in tow.
Anyway, I can report we were served maist delightfully thereafter. Venison burgers. If any locals read this, between sessions getting hammered, help keep the poor fellow in employment, would you? Haw!