Callander

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Callander is basically one long street full of traffic and shops selling everything from whisky to tartan haggises and shawls. It's one of those streets where if it wasn't for the presence of tightly-clutched ice-cream cones the air would be filled with the sound of gnashing gums as bus-loads of pensioners boogie back and forth doing their utmost to hold the rest of us fit folk up. However, don't even dare to think phrases like 'Pink Perm' or you'll find yourself in trouble. BIG trouble. For at the end of that one long main street you will find Hamish, a huge orange hairy beast with horns whose stomach is kept topped up by old folks. Hamish eats almost anything put in front of him - I understand he is particularly fond of strawberries, but I also hear from secret sources that he has been known to wolf down an occasional child, not to mention anyone showing disrespect for this country's auld yins. so you had better behave yourself.
But the good thing about our Hamish is that he lives in a field just along from a wonderful hotel and real ale shop. So, if you can make it through the Blue Rinse Brigade (oh oh...), a hoppy treat awaits your pleasure. TO THE LADE INN AT KILMAHOG.