Pet Hates – Curious Bystander

Dogs & Restaurants; a complete pet hate of mine. . .

*Certainly, easy to believe – A loser of an Incel, with his pals* – A recent survey stated that
almost 1/2 of men will not go out, if they can’t take their mutt with them?!

When did this even start? And now, as with many things, we are simply expected to just take it lying down, while thinking of England, et al.

As usual, I didn’t think that I could be the only one who feels this way. For another opinion, please go here:

https://www.foodandwine.com/dogs-allowed-in-restaurants-7370835

To be blunt, I’m probably a dog person, whatever that even means; thinking that at least they’ve always seemed more friendly and approachable, and certainly nowhere near as mercenary as cats; cats are simply awful.

But first some general info:

Dog-Friendly Trends (Indirect Stats and Surveys):

Directories and Listings:
Sites like DogFriendly.co.uk list over 1,300 dog-friendly restaurants and cafes as of 2024, but this is a self-reported subset and not exhaustive. Pub guides (e.g., Dugs n’ Pubs) highlight thousands of dog-welcoming pubs, often in rural areas.

Anecdotal and Media Reports:
A 2022 Telegraph article notes “pooch-friendly dining is a trend gaining pace,” with chains like Mowgli (14 UK branches) adopting dog-friendly policies since ~2017. By 2024, Costa Coffee (after a trial) allows dogs in many stores, joining others like Bill’s, Giraffe, and Zizzi.

Consumer Surveys:

One from the Mirror found:

83% of pet owners and 87% of dog owners believe pets should not be taken to restaurants. But 23% of people aged 34–45 thought it was acceptable. 74% said it’s good etiquette to leave if your dog is barking. 68% agreed dogs should only be allowed if the restaurant is clean.

Another one, from YouGov:

69% of Britons say it’s unacceptable to bring dogs to restaurants. Only 21% think it’s acceptable.

And a final survey, from Open Table found:

With a simply horrible headline; “Doggy Dining: Nearly half of new dog owners take their pooch everywhere” –

35% of Brits refuse to dine at a restaurant that doesn’t accept dogs. 49% will only take their dog if eating outdoors. 42% of new dog owners take their pet EVERY TIME they socialize. 88% of dog owners prioritize their pet’s comfort when dining out.

At least, let’s have some ground rules. . .

Surely it’s possible to separate the customers with dogs, and the customers who have not brought their dogs with them. I.e, left side canines, right side humans?
Can we not also, even have a pen or common area where the dogs have to be tied down at a table (underneath perhaps), as so many times when I’ve had to move by a table with a dog, I’ve had to step over it in order to proceed somewhere? And almost ALWAYS with no assistance whatsoever from their respective owners. They (the owners) just KNOW that they’re getting in your faces, don’t they?
And it should be possible, to have an extra charge for the hounds, as it must take something to clean the areas due to the hairs, mud on the paws, etc. At least it could go to bring a balance between us (humans) and that lot (the dogs & their owners). I believe the Economics literature calls this an “externality“.

Epic 2-Day E-Bike Adventure: Cycling 120km from Pitlochry to Aviemore with a Camping Stop

Alternative AI Title – E-Bike Delight: 120km of Scottish Sights with a Tent by Night!

And you think that one was bad, look at these:

“Zoom to the Moon: E-Biking Pitlochry to Aviemore with a Camping Swoon”

“Cycle and Snuggle: A 120km E-Bike Journey with a Tent Tuggle”

“Wheeling Through Reeling: Pitlochry to Aviemore’s 2-Day E-Bike Feeling”

“E-Bike Blitz: 120km of Scottish Spritz with a Camping Twist”

As for the tour:
Another bike tour, but this time with e-bikes—what a game-changer! We covered roughly 110–120 kilometers over two days, riding from Pitlochry to a campsite just north of Dalwhinnie, where we pitched our tent, before continuing to the bustling village of Aviemore. I’ve never been a huge fan of Aviemore, to be honest, and we were mostly there to catch the train back to Pitlochry.

Wasted Degrees brewery, an hour north of Pitlochry

This was our first time using e-bikes, and I recently bought a secondhand one—hope that’s not an oxymoron! It needed a few repairs, and I quickly learned it doesn’t have a kickstand, which can be a hassle. I usually stick to power assist levels one or two out of five, occasionally three. The bike’s pretty heavy, and like most e-bike newbies, I thought I could overload it.

Spoiler: I did, and it’s damn heavy when you’re pushing it without power.

The village (closed) of Dalwhinnie

We rode about 75 kilometers on day one, sticking to Sustrans National Cycle Route 7, a long-distance path stretching from Sunderland, England, to Inverness, Scotland.

Invernahavon Caravan Park

We were on the upper half, north of Perth, where the route is well-marked but varies wildly. Sometimes you’re dodging traffic; other times, you’re blissfully alone. After Perth, there aren’t many cars or cyclists, which is great, but it makes planning crucial—especially for food.

Case in point: we cycled into Dalwhinnie, a tiny village, around 6 p.m., starving. The one café? Closed. The hotel restaurant? Closed. The village shop and petrol station? Also closed. Lesson learned: plan your meals! Luckily, we had sandwiches to tide us over.

We made it to the campsite near Etteridge with 10 minutes to spare before it closed. About 15–20 minutes away, there’s the Ralia Café, a quirky old-school stop that’s part tourist point, part café. Their breakfast the next morning was fantastic, getting us ready for the final 40–50 kilometers to Aviemore.

E-bikes make you think you can carry the world, but our loaded tents and gear got difficult’ish, especially in the last half hour when I was pedalling without power. Another hiccup: the campsite charged £33 for two people, including electricity, but the plugs were incompatible with standard household chargers. By some miracle, a fellow camper overheard us panicking and lent us an adapter. By morning, our bikes were fully charged, and the campsite’s showers? Absolutely superb.

Ralia Cafe

Day two’s 40–50 kilometers felt easier, especially with a full stomach from Ralia Café, about 5 kilometers north of the campsite. We passed through charming Newtonmore and Kingussie, where there are plenty of cafés and facilities if you need them.

Highland Folk Museum (below) –

We also stopped at a heritage museum, which was a highlight. It showcased a Highland village from 300–400 years ago, with recreated buildings and some from a century ago that were used until about 50 years back. It was fascinating, free, and we happily donated £10 each.

Aviemore / Rothiemurchus

From there, it was about 20 kilometres to Aviemore, entering from the south via Rothiemurchus, a lively spot. With temperatures hitting 24–25°C, the town was buzzing. We caught the train back to Pitlochry, arriving late afternoon. But here’s point number three: ScotRail was a disaster.

No room at the Inn (for bikes)

Despite booking bike spaces, there was no way to fit our bikes in the designated area. The conductor couldn’t care less, so we stood for the 55-minute ride back to Pitlochry, never reaching our seats.

Come on, ScotRail, you can do better.

Valaria, West End, Glasgow – Another café, this time “French”; and other pet hates-

I wasn’t at first sure what it was called, but have settled on Valaria—or something like that. It’s one of those café-stroke-restaurant-stroke-coffee-and-cake places that’s been around for two, maybe three years, post-COVID. I’d never been, despite passing it weekly on my many sojourns to Waitrose. From the outside, it doesn’t look like much—small, unassuming, especially at night when the lights are on and the cleaning’s happening. Most cafés in Glasgow, even on bustling Byres Road, close by six or seven, eight at the latest.

Inside, it’s standard setup: tables on the right and at the back, cashier on the left with a display case—call it a tray, a gallery, whatever—showing off a huge variety of savoury and sweet pastries. I was overwhelmed by the options. It took me a full five minutes to decide while my partner ordered. The waitress came over, assuming I was ready, and I had to laugh and admit I wasn’t. Thirty seconds later, I settled on a New York roll with pistachio.

To my surprise, it was massive—much bigger and fuller than expected. Absolutely delicious. I think they specialize in French pastries, but this was next-level sensational, filled with rich pistachio cream. It was practically a meal. The photos don’t do it justice—it was grand.

My partner got a vegan carrot cake, which sparked a thought: isn’t carrot cake always vegan? Probably, if it’s made with seed or olive oil. With butter, maybe not, but it’s at least vegetarian. Everything was top-notch, including the gigantic pot of tea we got four or five cups from (above).

Some Cafe Hates –

Now, a few pet peeves.

First, people who seat themselves despite clear signs to wait. The place was cramped, and naturally, a couple—both with ginger hair, one with a ponytail—plonked down right next to us in an already tight corner. I could’ve killed them, and naturally, it was MY fault that they didn’t have any space!

Second, why do some guys insist on wearing hats (particularly baseball hats!) indoors? We had a few sporting winter beanies and backward baseball caps, which drives me up the wall. The other half stated that they could be bald? They were too young for that.

Third, the seats and booths had crumbs everywhere! Why don’t cafés keep a mini-Hoover handy?

Overall, this place is a gem. My roll was basically brunch, and the bill, including tip, came in under £20. That’s a steal for the size, quantity, and superb quality compared to other spots.