The Invisible Zoological Museum

Oor Wullie, Dundee

Our guest house in Dundee was a stunner with a gorgeous old garden. The weather continued its crap trend and we had trouble connecting with our friends there. We never did see Mark, and Terry had some issues getting to Dundee from Kirkcaldy. He arrived at last but it was after the Howff and the mystery of the Invisible Zoological Museum.

I knew I wanted to see the Howff again, that fine old burying ground! and to spend time at the McManus. We did the Howff on the first day in town and next morning was the McManus, which is an old-fashioned museum in a lot of ways and always delights me. The Picts! That spiffy coracle! An old printing press! There are stuffed animals (taxidermied, not plushies) and artifacts from Dundee’s colorful history.

It was great. And outside was a new installment near the statue of Rabbie Burns. It was Oor Wullie and a poem in honor of Burns, sort of.

Pub next, of course, where it was Mexican food day. I settled for a jacket potato and a pint, and the sun came out for a bit. Only a bit and then the rain and wind started again. We decided we’d check out something we’d seen on a tourist map while waiting for Terry’s arrival—a zoological museum on the campus of the university, which looked pretty easy to find. So, off we went to the museum, which seemed to be surprisingly close to the Phoenix, the pub where we were meeting our friends. Star’s back was achy and the weather took a turn for the worse. The map was unhelpful, as it turns out. We approached the alleged museum location from two different directions, asked passers-by (who had no idea and were actually stopping to ask us for directions). We went round and round, peering at the inadequate wet map. We did pass a pub with a large Budweiser sign over the door, commented on it and moved on.

After several false starts and stops, we found the location that should have held the zoological museum. There were only university offices and soggy students. We gave up finally and decided we’d find the pub—The Phoenix—and wait for our friends.

We had that fab map, of course, and that led us to simply asking a nice-looking man in a metrosexual clothing boutique to actually find the Phoenix. It turned out, naturally, that the Budweiser-sign pub was The Phoenix and we took a seat by the door and waited, avec pints.

That’s when the surprising string of new acquaintances and their complicated lives began to take hold of the Very Soggy Day.