We're on the road to nowhere, come on inside

Talking Heads were onto something when they warbled this song. And I bet you two poonds they were singing it about Scotland. Because if you've ever tried to get anywhere in this country, along the highways, byways, waterways, and motorways, you'll quickly realise that street signs are just a guide. They're not prescriptive, and they're certainly not helpful.

Now I don't profess to having the world's best sense of direction, but I can read a map when under pressure and I can certainly tell the difference between the M8 to Edinburgh and the A77 to Dumfries. So when AB and I set off on our weekend tourist drive on Saturday morning, we honestly felt sure we'd find the monuments we were seeking. W-R-O-N-G.

But it wasn't a complete waste of our time. In fact, we had a really lovely weekend. We swapped cameras so we could take pics of each other hamming it up in front of Paisley Abbey and the local Town Hall, Newark Castle, Dunoon Ferry, Balloch Castle, and Loch Lomond. We played 'tourist' in our own town and its surrounds, and it was lovely. Photos to follow, of course.

Next weekend we're getting ourselves organised to take the ferry over to Rothesay in the Isle of Bute, to see the 13th century castle there. And we know where we're going, so it'll be a straight run there - just how the locals do it.