On a bad day I could cough up around 12 pounds for a really horrible breakfast. Burnt toast on stale bread with 3 week old kippers, under cooked egg and off bacon. And although I have been to cooking school (I often wonder if this was a pliy by my parents to get my brother and myself out the house) I am can still be a little dozy in the kitchen, especially if it is 1 foot by 2. So I can be forgiven if I on the odd occasion hang up my wooden spoon and swiss army knife for an eating marathon on the side of the road (not road kill).
In this particular case I was pleasantly surprised at having possibly the best breakfast I have eaten over the last 33 years and on whim and at a hotel called: Loch Leven Hotel. I arrived grumpy and hungry and 30m later rolled out feeling like a snake with its snack for the winter.
When i am next in the fort William Area I will most definitely make a little pilgrimage back to the Loch Leven Hotel for a sample of the full Scottish breakfast that made my day.
I have become immune to
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