Dumfries: Snatching a Defeatburger from the Jaws of Victory

...except it wasn't.
We parked up by the river in sunny Dumfries, I donned my cheery Irn Bru-coloured Queens Park away shirt to match Stu, and we wandered up the hill to the town centre. We were detained briefly by a drunken Partick Thistle fan who queried our choice of shirts while staggering on the cobbles, but soon made our way triumphantly to the Loreburne Shopping Centre.
In we marched, fielding yet more stares of Scottish football tribalism, and headed to our goal, minds full of the thought of burgers and chips on true Wimpy plates.
But as we approached, the sight of plastic shutters sank our hopes like a chaffinch divebombing a canoe.
It looked like a jolly nice Wimpy, with what seemed to be a seating hall out the back. But it was, undeniably, closed, when on a busy Sunday afternoon. So zero from both of us.
So had we completed our quest? Well, I think so. After all, we'd made it to the Wimpy, which is the main thing. And you wouldn't send us back to Dumfries. Surely?

Annandale Services: It's Wimpy Time

And so, that fateful Saturday (March 31, remember, I'm still catching up), we headed down the M74 to Annandale Water services and our first motorway service station Wimpy.
The walls of the main building were festooned with Wimpy posters, and, even better. one of the fences featured a Wimpy banner adorned with the words Got a Minute? Grab a Burger.
Nearby was a family standing by the boot of their car eating sandwiches. I approached the father, and after much slow explanation and general hilarity (and lots of Whys?) he sent his son to take a picture of Stu and I behind the banner, a grin on my face, a cheesy timekeeping expression on Stu's. A souvenir to be proud of - I even filmed the Corsa of Destiny driving past.
When we walked in to the main building we saw the Wimpy counter to our left - no seats, just a wall of Wimpy looking out onto the concourse. But its shutters were closed, and even our photo and video festival outside couldn't take away our fear of failure. Or of having to wait at least an hour at a motorway service station, which is roughly the same thing.
But then the gods smiled upon us, the metal barrier started to rise, and a Wimpy opened before our eyes.
Unfortunately, we were all set for a propoer full Wimpy meal with plates and cutlery in Dumfries, so all I had was a bag of onion rings while Stu had chips. But they were very nice onion rings and chips, so it's a 2.5 from me and a 2.5 from Stu.
And then it was back in the Corsa of Destiny for our ride to a triumphant finish...

Motherwell: We will NOT be defeated

Next morning we were up bright and early for the long and Wimpy-ful road home. And first stop was Motherwell, which had so cruelly let us down on Friday.

Again we parked up just inside Strathclyde Country Park in Motherwell, and headed inside M&D's and into the bizarre Wild West-themed food court. And there, next to the self-proclaimed World's Wackiest Eating Emporium and beneath a fake frontage, sat a Wimpy counter. Open!

Bacon rolls again, it being breakfast time. No cutlery, of course, it being an amusement park Wimpy and all (see eventual Statement of Rules) but it's not often you can eat Wimpy beneath plastic American facades. A solid two-and-a-half from me, Stu will hopefully comment for himself below.

Intermission: All I Want For Christmas Is A Queen's Park Away Kit

Apologies for the delay - now back to the events of Saturday, March 31.

Johnstone was our final Wimpy that day, as next we headed to Hampden for Queen's Park against Stenhousemuir in the Scottish League Division Three.

I'm no football expert - check out a match report here - but the atmosphere was something special. Inside Hampden's giant bowl were, as usual for Queen's Park, just 600 or so Spiders and Warriors supporters (check out that sporting knowledge) giving it their all despite the 50,000-plus empty seats. Queen's Park emerged triumphant, and we headed for the club shop.

And from there came the official Wimpy Crawl clothing - Queen's Park away shirts, in the garish orange and blue colours of sponsors Irn Bru. You can't get much more Scottish than that.

An aside - last time we went to Scotland (see the first post) we went to Peterhead's home game against Ayr. It finished 2-2. This weekend, strangely, Peterhead also hosted Ayr - and the game again finished 2-2. Coincidence?

Johnstone: Classic Wimpy Style

Lunch in Largs, dessert in Johnstone. Hidden away in a 60s arcade, Johnstone's Wimpy was a small, classic table-service restaurant. The dominant feature of its decor was a white on pink wallpaper "WIMPY" that was a throwback to the early days of the chain. Even some of the saucers were old school red and white rather the up-to-date yellow, green and red.

While the surroundings were classic, the service did not live up to it. No sooner had Stu opened his mouth to ask for an ice cream float, salivating like a misguided middle-aged woman at a Michael Bolton concert, than the waitress stepped in with a quick "no ice cream". As I'm sure you're aware, most of Wimpy's classic desserts have ice cream as a vital constituent, so our options were somewhat limited. Toasted teacakes all round, then.

Two-and-a-half from me, a score lifted only thanks to the retro ambience. Stu the ice cream-lover was less enamoured. A mere two from him.

Largs: Plastic Wimpy

Next morning it was over the hills to Largs, an old-fashioned and beautifully located seaside town basking in an until-now rare day of Scottish sunshine.

Shame about the Wimpy. It was again trapped inside an amusement arcade (though one with an excellent air hockey table). Like Dingwall, we had to wait for it to open. Unlike Dingwall, it wasn't worth the wait.

Half of the options on the illuminated board were papered over. When the food came, we were served up kebab shop-style chips in anonymous packaging and burgers in anonymous wraps. Had it not been for the Wimpy-branded paper cups, you would hardly have known you were eating in Britain's premier homegrown burger chain. There weren't even any Wimpy serviettes, for heaven's sake.

Chicken in a bun for me, quarterpounder with cheese for Stu. One-and-a-half from both of us for this unsatisfying Wimpy experience.

Kilmarnock: Salvation

After the crushing blow of Motherwell on top of the already lengthy journey from Dingwall, a swift diversion to Kilmarnock was in order. An unprepossessing walk took us to an unprepossessing street in an unprepossessing part of what seemed to be an unprepossessing town. Thankfully, the Wimpy was open inside The Garage activity centre.

From the richly laid-out tables, complete with Mr Wimpy "Let's Party" hats, it was clear we were just minutes away from an ear-splitting children's party so we gobbled down our fish and chips (well it was Friday) and dashed away before the deluge of pint-sized Scots.

Two-and-a-half from me, three from Stu, who was relieved to get a good meal without the screaming bairns.

Motherwell: A Disappointment

It was closed.

Dingwall: A ***** Experience

Interlude: In the wilds between Fraserburgh and Macduff there was little or no radio reception - but there was one oasis in the frequency wilderness: Bagpipe FM.
Well, that wasn't its name, but it might as well have been. Radio nan Gaidheal certainly helped while away the hours with an eclectic mix of bagpipe dirges and tartan funk. Imagine how distraught we were when the music stopped and the news hour began. We were hoping for a stirring massed pipe rendition of How Am I Supposed To Live Without You

After a night in Inverness it was on to Dingwall at first light (almost). It might well be the country's most remote Wimpy, but even though we had to wait the best part of an hour for it to open, it was worth the journey. We were the first customers of the day, but our sweet and succulent bacon buns were just the start of a first-class Wimpy experience.

We spotted a Mr Wimpy puppet and Stu asked if they had any for sale. To our surprise and delight, our ever-so-helpful waitress brought two to our table. With a smile, she said: "Will that keep two little people happy?" Well, neither of us is that tall.

As we were preparing to leave, she revealed there was a playroom upstairs adorned with murals of Mr Wimpy and his forgotten friends (no, not us - a dinosaur, an elephant and a veritable menagerie). She even let us up there for a swift photograph - it'll be up eventually, promise.

Five stars from me, and Stu was equally wowed. Decor resembling the 1980s Scarborough Wimpy on which Stu was weaned, an 80s soundtrack (not a trace of the Soul Provider to be heard), great food and of course those puppets mean anything less than full marks would be a travesty.