Desperate in Dundee

The sky was a brilliant blue. Any clouds a mere whisper in the vast sky over the expanse of the Firth of Tay. The strait lay shimmering, over the large valley before us, reaching over towards Newport and the north east of Fife.
Both Ka and myself had never been to Dundee before so, just for the jaunt in the summer sunshine, we thought we'd go up on Saturday and have a wee night away in a B&B followed by a day on the beach in St. Andrews on the Sunday.
With a few hours to kill before check in at our hotel we parked the car in the town centre and decided to have a wander, maybe grab some lunch on the way as we were both starving.
We walked through the shopping centre, Ka making a quick stop at Primark for a pair of work trousers whilst I kept walking, going out into the town square, taking a few pictures of Desperate Dan and a catapult weilding Minnie the Minx. The 8 foot bronze statue of the cow pie eating cartoon character stands in the middle of Dundee's city square, dragging his 'dawg' along behind him, Minnie the Minx following. Both characters appeared in two different comics, The Dandy and The Beano, both published by the same company DC Thomson, a company Ka's Dad, Dougie, is more than familiar with, and the annuals of which my brother Kenny and myself would usually receive copies of every Christmas.
On our walk around Dundee Ka and myself explored the Tayside, seeing the R.R.S. Discovery moored up at Discovery point, Captain Robert Falcon Scott's ship that conquered Antartica. Just as I was taking a quick picture of the historical ship a small couple with a strange accent approached us and asked if we'd like a photo taken. After posing under the tall ship the older couple started chatting away, some of which I understood, telling us they were over on holiday from Melbourne, first time back in Scotland in twenty five years. That explained the odd accent. A weird amalgamation of Aussie and Scots. An accent Kenny may well adopt after his continuing trip around Oz.
It does make me wonder, hearing so many stories of people emigrating to Oz in search of a better life, and finding it.
Is it really the land of opportunity? Do we need to travel so far, in order to gain this fantastic life that so many people talk of? Is Britain, and Scotland specifically, so abysmal that you have to move to the land of 'Neighbours', 'Home and Away' and 'Priscilla Queen of the Desert' to have a satisfactory life? I do like BBQs mind you... and the fact you can go next door whenever you want and help yourself to their fridge or sit on the beach all day and drink lager.
After getting back to the car we finally found somewhere to get some food. A rather shadey wee baguette shop, across the road from the carpark, on the edge of the University grounds. After successfully misunderstanding a hungry Ka I strode into the small shop and ordered a baguette, standing in the tight, white tiled take away, looking down at the bowls in the glass cabinets before us. Chicken in various sauces and in various states of decay met our eyes as the man behind the counter warmed our baguette, eyeing us suspiciously. I'd never had an inclination to run from a cafe or take away shop after placing an order before.
"Run for your life!" I screamed through my head and I imagined running out the shop, grabbing Ka as I went, escaping across the road, jumping into the car and speeding off, door slamming shut over the spinning wheels as the wee Baguette man ran out after us, shouting indian swear words whilst gesturing wildly with a tikka stained bread knife.
Upon receiving the baguette, which Ka had to pay for with her wealth of change, she dared me to eat the horrid looking thing, filling me with guilt after she was now £4 out of pocket. I couldn't back down. I had to eat it. Two day old salad hung from the sides of the bread littered over the greasy, gorey looking chicken tikka which lay inside. I gulped and bit my first bite.
"It's not bad" I shrugged at Ka, lying uncontrollably.
I managed to get halfway down the baguette before my stomach started churning.
Time to head on to the hotel, I told Ka, and the room's bathroom, I thought.
We were greeted at the Shaftsbury Hotel by Heather, the friendly and slightly flustered hotelier, with horn rimmed glasses and muddled paperwork, who showed us up to our room at the top of the large, Victorian building. The hotel had originally been home to one of Dundee's rich jute Barons, James Scott. The jute industry being one of the city's main incomes in the nineteenth century. The building structure has obviously been largely untouched since those days, a lot of the original features still in place.
Our room at the top of the house was large and airy, with a view looking out over the Tay, only slightly obscured by the few rooftops before us. As we opened the curtains wide to admire the panorama we smiled, taking in the nice view. The sun shone, the Tay sparkled, a few gulls cackled at one another and the chickens clucked.
Hold on.
Chickens?
"Bock,bock,bock,begowwwwk" echoed through the streets below from the neighbour's garden straight across the road. The chicken tikka in my belly turned oddly inside my digestive system but thankfully settled before we headed out for dinner to Papa Joe's, an American style diner along the same lines of TGI Fridays but, we discovered, with far superior burgers. I almost went for the chicken burger but thought against it, going for the cow meat instead, just like Desperate Dan.