The Sir Walter Scott – Still baffling

A disorientating place to drink.

© Imran Rahman-Jones

Earlier this year, I wrote about the frankly perplexing experience of the Wetherspoons at Edinburgh Airport. A couple of weeks ago I was flying again – and again found myself back at the Sir Walter Scott with a half of Leffe. (You can read my original review below.)

Here’s what has changed since my last visit: The Starbucks opposite has now opened. Next to that are some new Wetherspoons tables, which have now spilled out of the “pub” into the waiting area for gate 10. This must surely make it one of the largest “pubs” in the country. I glimpse a table numbered 222.

As before, dozens of diligent staff bustle about with trolleys, on the endless collection of plates and glasses. It’s a bit like being in a giant Parisian bistro hall, though without the crisp white shirts of the service staff, or the Gallic attitude.

Also unchanged is the baffling timeline of Scottish history pasted on to the walls. To my horror, this time round I realise it’s not a timeline at all – but a totally random mishmash of dates and events. As a case in point, above the vast bar, the trivia is ordered in this sequence: 80AD;¹ 1837; 1998 (no fact appears next to this one, it’s just the year on its own); 1329; 1820-something (the rest of the year and its related event are cut off). I wonder who the interior designer was and how much they were paid. My guess is that it wasn’t enough.

I also wonder if this Cloud Atlas-style hop around history is what keeps drawing people to stand directly in front of me and squint at the wall above my head, until I realise I’m sitting directly below of the live departures screen.

If I crane my neck far enough, I’m able to see the queue for my plane from my table. Last time I was in boarding priority group four. This time I’ve somehow been relegated to group seven – a depth I didn’t know possible.² I take this both as an insult, and an invitation to stay in The Sir Walter Scott a little while longer. I’m the last to board the plane.

The chaser

Then there is the sensibility of the pub. I am a great believer in the use of wood in a pub, welcoming wooden walls and floors that make you feel safe, that speak the secret language of the forest, the tranquility and silence of ancient woodland. So why is wood important? For me it is about comfort, and about how I like a certain sense of antiquity even if the joiners only sorted it out last week.

Another lovely piece from Adrian Tierney-Jones about what pubs are for. Take a couple of minutes to read it. Plus, it taught me a new word. Palimpsest. Expect that to crop up in a future review.

In search of time lost in the pub

I’ll be back next week with a new review.

1

“The first recorded mention of Leith is when Agricola, the Roman General passed through on his way from Inveresk to Cramond”

In a flight since, I’ve been put in boarding group eight, which surely means I’m now less important than luggage.

2.