Kerrville was like Ullapool on a drizzly Thursday in April: empty streets, hills, water, and me wondering why the hell I'd come. But at least it wasn't wet - it was ninety in the shade. And in Pambell's Soda Fountain the fans swooshed slowly in the dark panelled ceiling, and my milk shake was cold as Loch Broom. The waitress's heels clacked towards me. 'You'll have to move on, son' she said, 'We've a bus tour coming in. We're on the schedule. We're historic here at Pambell's. We're authentic. People come from miles.' I looked up at her: 'I came miles too.' She sniffed. 'We need the seats,' she said. I sooked up the rest of my shake. 'See this town,' I said, ' Do you get midgies here?' She reached for my glass. 'No. Just bus tours.'
Duncan
McLean