Whitehills.

At the recommendation of Lady Findhorn, I paid a visit to Whitehills; it was a serious mistake. The wind was blawin’ a hoolie and the temperature wasn’t exactly tropical. By the time I got there I was verging on the hypothermic without a coffee shop in sight; true there was a rather posh looking fish restaurant, but that wouldn’t quite cut the mustard. Having grabbed a Blip of the picturesque end of the village for LF and one of an uncomfortably cold wet rock for the rest of us, I pressed on down wind to Banff where there is a very nice cafe in a chemist come post-office, It’s the sort of place where you go into the chemist section, then into the post-office, and finally ask them where they’ve hidden the cafe. Once safely installed, there’s a very cheerful young waitress to deliver your coffee; she is so sweet and charming that it would seem churlish to complain that half the contents of the cup arrives in the saucer.