Today, we are in Ballat. Ballat is a village in northern Syria not far from Homs. It has has a population of about 574 mainly Greek Orthodox Christians. That’s according to Google. Thankfully we are nowhere near there today because a) it’s dangerous b) it’s unlikely to have scones. Instead we are at Ballat crossroads about fifteen miles north of Glasgow because a) it’s dangerous b) it’s likely to have scones.
Let us explain! The A811 road forms part of our normal route over to Loch Lomond and at Ballat it crosses the main Aberfoyle to Glasgow road … not like a normal crossroads in the shape of a straight forward cross, but rather a cross that has been mangled and flattened … you have to cross at a very weird angle and it can all get a little bit hairy.
Probably fine when only used by carthorses but now with juggernauts thundering through at a rate of knots it is an altogether different proposition … the scene of regular accidents.
The narrow sliver of land between the two roads is occupied by a complex of shops called the Aizle, one of which is the Aizle Coffee Shop. Goodness knows why anyone would call it that but apparently it is an old Scots word meaning ‘hot ember’ or ‘spark’ … it rhymes with hazel … whatever! Normally we are so thankful at just making it safely to the other side of the junction that we have never bothered stopping here. The only reason we are stopping today is that our tummies are rumbling and we still have a fair bit to go.
Problem, we had not realised the time. We were arriving just as they were closing for the evening. Nevertheless, although we were the only ones around, we were very warmly welcomed. 
They didn’t have any proper food left, just the odd cake … and the odd scone. Initially we thought this fortuitous however our scone turned out to be pretty awful … dry and hard … perhaps because it had been lying out all day? Serves us right for arriving so late. Our visit was brief but we felt sustained enough to carry on our way so it did its job. No topscone here however, nowhere near.
One nice thing about this place was that it provided some light reading material at each table. Rather than our usual political rant we will just let you read our table:
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A driver was stuck in a traffic jam on the M25 near London. Nothing was moving. Suddenly a man knocks on the window.
The driver rolls down the window and asks, “What’s going on?”
“Terrorists have kidnapped all members of Parliament, and they’re asking for a £100 million ransom. Otherwise, they are going to douse them in petrol and set them on fire. We are going from car to car collecting donations.”
“how much is everyone giving on average?” the driver asks. The man replies, “Roughly a litre.“
Okay, not in good taste but then again it did match the scone! We actually felt a modicum of sympathy for politicians when we read that piece. Some of them must have a modicum of sense after all. But then we saw the pictures of Theresa May dancing with some black kids in South Africa and all sympathy evaporated. For years, she, along with David Cameron branded Nelson Mandela a terrorist. Now, in the face an impending hard Brexit caused by her own party’s stupidity, she is in Mandela’s country desperately kowtowing for business. Another litre?
G63 0SE tel: 01360 440456 The Aizle FB
