Is this the way to Inverbervie?

Admit it, you were thinking I deserved some rain, weren't you?  So was I. As I climbed oit of the village, as in the song 'I turned my collar to the cold and damp'.  A thought hit me. Ouch! (Sorry, couldn't resist).  Maybe the choice of song was affecting the weather?  I desperately racked my brains for sunny songs.  Whoa! We're going to Barbados / on thw sunny Caribbean sea.  It brightened up a bit, over there. Over here, it was still raining.  'Sunshine Superman' by Donovan: the rain stopped, only 30 minutes later.

At the top of the hill was Lunan Braehead.  I was assaulted again, this time in the nose, by something horrible.  It was only a tiny place. Round the corner a Scottish 'Water' tanker was emptying a cesspit.  I just hope they clean it out before delivering the water.

Onward and downward.  Raining again.  I realised I'd been singing the wrong song. Montrose is a grown-up port with grown-up ships. I stuck to the coast road and I couldn't tell you if it has a scenic centre.  It did have a nice coastal road leading out of town underneath the escarpment, with footballing schoolboys sheltering from the thunderstorm.  At least the bike was getting clean.

Roads under escarpments often end in tears, and this one ended in a vicious climb back up to 85 metres.  Down below me, way down, was Johnshaven, a tiny fishing village with picturesque lines of low cottages lining the sea. NCN1 offered an off-road alternative route along the coast to Inverbervie, 5 miles.   Or back up and along the main road. 

The off road route was almost unrideable, but it led me to the Harbour Bar in Gourdon, a mile short of Inverbervie and selling rolls snd toasties.  Inside were two groups of elderly ladies who'd probably been there a while, who interrogated me immediately as I entered.  'Where are you from'? 'Are you our driver'?  'Nice body'.  I took off my wet waterproof.  'Are you doing a striptease for us'?  You couldn't make it up.