Last updated 21:59, Wednesday, 06 August 2008

I’VE often wondered how the term “steamin” came to mean “drunk”. I certainly didn’t envisage finding out through visiting an art gallery in Edinburgh at the weekend.

On display were paintings showing how Impressionism had influenced Scottish art and among the exhibits was a pastel by the late 19th century Scottish artist Sir James Guthrie. In it he portrayed some very respectable-looking passengers aboard the steamship The Ivanhoe.

In those days, it was quite common to go for a sailing trip on a Sunday afternoon but the steamboats became quite rowdy places as the Scots law forbidding the sale of alcohol on a Sunday didn’t extend to sailing boats. Drunkenness was common aboard these boats – and so being drunk was known as “steaming”.

But the Temperance Society stepped in and insisted there should be at least one boat which forbade the sale of alcohol and this was The Ivanhoe. Hence Guthrie’s scene of seemly behaviour on this boat as opposed to the others where passengers were seen to be steaming.

I was in Edinburgh attending the golden wedding of a long-term friend. The celebration took the form of a dinner and before we ate, grace was said. It was announced as the Scots grace and I expected to hear the time-honoured words:

“Some hae meat an’ canna eat;

Some hae nane that want it.

But we hae meat and we can eat,

Sae let the Lord be Thankit.”

But, no, the assembled guests were entertained with a different Scots grace which I hadn’t heard before:

“Doon wi’ the heid,

Up wi’ the paws,

And thank you Lord

For a guid pair o’ jaws.”

On the subject of eating, one Langholm establishment was praised by a national newspaper as a “laid-back gastro pub”, proudly announcing it is a member of the Slow Food movement, guaranteeing that special attention is paid to what’s on offer – “and it shows” says the food critic, Sara Valentin of The Scotsman.

The heading for her article is Hidden Treasure of the Valley. First she praises the town, writing that it has everything visitors could wish for, “from a beautiful setting in the majestic Esk Valley to traditions such as the spectacular Common Riding”.

And the pub in question? The Douglas, which, she says, tourists will love. She had checked it out on the website and her husband was most disappointed to miss the organic roast boar chops which weren’t on the menu that day.

Instead, he’d settled on steak pie which she describes as “a spectacular creation with chunky pieces of succulent meat and a thin wafer of feather-light puff pastry. The beef is beautifully tasty but the pastry is the real star: crunchy, buttery, not overcooked and with no greasiness or soggy underbelly in sight”.

Children, she says, aren’t patronised with nuggets and pizza and every adult dish can be served on a smaller scale. “The pudding blackboard groans with goodies”.

She ends her critique by calling the Douglas “a haven of fuss-free home cooking” which makes her wonder why we would ever want to leave such a hidden treasure to tourists.

And now I’m wondering how we locals are going to find tables when The Scotsman readers come flocking to the Douglas after having been let in on this “hidden treasure of the valley”.

I had a phone call from Mike Tinker putting me right as to the musical score on the long-service certificates awarded by the flute band to David and Eric. They weren’t the notes of Wullie Whustle but, appropriately, those of Auld Lang Syne.