Shetland's pubs and bars: how I ended up in the Thule on a Friday afternoon.

For anyone familiar with Lerwick, it will come as no surprise to hear that I generally try to avoid the Thule bar. Not that there is anything particularly wrong with it, the staff are friendly and... we'll just leave it at that for now. So, the reason I mention the Thule is that when I embarked on this blog I promised  that I would include the good, the bad and the ugly of being a Shetland tour guide.

Therefore, I thought I would have to confess to how I ended up in the pub on a Friday afternoon. In this particular case, the story involves me, the tour guide, and a very drunk man who I had the pleasure of guiding.

I love Lerwick, but I could count on one hand the amount of times I've been to a pub in recent years, yet two Fridays in almost as many weeks I've found myself at the bar with a bottle of 'crisp and fruity' (I'll explain that one later) in my hand. I don't go to the pub often, and the last time I went was with a couple of academic researchers visiting from Germany. On that occasion, we found ourselves sitting in an empty bar with an 80s inspired barmaid and the greatest hits of Abba on a loop (we left when it became evident that Waterloo wasn't on that particular playlist and I'm not divulging which pub it was, I'll leave that to the imagination of the reader).

But what is it about the Lerwick Walking Tour that always ends with me, and fellow guide, Jim Gray propping up the bar, I wonder? Perhaps it's because we end the tour on the pier? Or maybe it's Mr Gray's influence? Or could it just the buzz of guiding? Whatever it is, I hope that frequenting the Thule doesn't become a common occurrence on a Friday afternoon. Thankfully I don't like 'crisp and fruity' all that much anyway.

On this particular day, I was taking a group of French visitors on a tour around Lerwick. This is a tour that I really enjoy. I love the old streets and this day was particularly busy and the town was buzzing. The Bergen to Lerwick race was in, the sun was shining, and there was a real holiday feel about the street — even the Thule was busy. I gathered the group on the pier and quickly realised that a number of them couldn't speak English and the ship had failed to send a translator.  No problem, beautiful day, beautiful sights and they all had cameras.  Sorted.  Or so I thought...

Before leaving Victoria Pier, a gentleman saddled up to me and offered to translate for the group. First thoughts were that this would be a good idea as those without English would benefit. But the more I observed, the more I realised that he had enjoyed more than one glass of Chablis with his lunch and as I started my introductions he continued to hold court, totally oblivious to the annoyance he was causing.

As we made our way across to the Shetland Museum it became increasingly evident that this gentleman was going to interrupt and talk over me at every opportunity, and as we progressed along the street, the number of complaints from the others grew. I couldn't help but be mildly impressed by his lungs – I didn't think it was possible to smoke so many cigarettes on the short journey across Commercial Street! 

Outside the museum, explaining the significance of the Shetland flag, he flapped me out the way. Correcting me, he explained to the group that what they were actually looking at was the 'flag Écosse'. That was the final straw for me. For anyone unsure of the difference, the Shetland flag, like the Scottish saltire is blue and white but it carries the Nordic cross, rather than the St Andrews cross. Funnily enough, the door of the Thule shows the Shetland flag – they have it painted on the door!

Thinking I was incredibly smart, and witty, I got out of bed at 6.30am and made my way down to the Esplanade, coffee cup in hand, to further prove my 'Shetland flag' point and create a seamless link in my narrative back to the Thule Bar. I had visions of the Thule, bathed in early morning sunshine with the flag on the doors standing proud. Unfortunately, as I approached my position of capture, realisation struck. Instead of the Instagram worthy photo in my head, the reality was that there was a hunkering old, rusting skip outside and several parked cars. 

But, back to the story at hand. Along with Mr Chablis, I also had the Woman Who Couldn't Walk, on the walking tour. Not my day.  Anyway, a quick phone call back to the pier and before long, a young Spanish lass appeared from the ship. With our escort in tow, he behaved and the woman with mobility issues was helped along on the tour without further incident and by the time we got back to the pier, the guests were happy again and I was in need of a drink!  

We entered the Thule and asked which wines they had and it was at this point that we were introduced to 'crisp and fruity', which prompted my next question. "What other wines do you have"?
"Just this one" the young barman said.

And that is how I came to be drinking in the Thule Bar on a Friday afternoon.

There are a couple of positives that came out of this experience. Firstly, my 6.30 trip to the waterfront allowed me time to sit out in the morning sun and reflect. It was a most stunning, calm morning, the sea was turquoise green - Shetland at its best, and it made me realise how much I loved this part of Lerwick and that, despite any hiccups, I loved showing people around. So, I decided to launch 'Thursday's Through Town', and offer evening walking tours around Lerwick throughout August.

No matter what happens in life, It's important to look for that silver lining — it's usually in there somewhere!So, in celebration of this, and for anyone who is interested, please get in touch, and you never know... you too may end up in the Thule drinking 'crisp and fruity'.

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