Breakfast here is an all-you-can-eat affair, and it comes with consequences. The continental section has pastries, fruit, and yogurt. It’s fine. It’s for people who hate joy. The full Scottish breakfast, however, is a historic event on a plate. You get bacon, eggs, sausages, black pudding, haggis, tattie scones, and beans. It’s a carb-protein-fat alliance that declares war on your arteries. You will eat it. You will love it. And then you will need a nap before you even check out. Plan your day around this meal. It’s non-negotiable.
A surprising fact: the breakfast buffet is re-stocked with the speed of a Formula 1 pit crew. You take one sausage, and a fresh tray appears as if by sorcery. The staff are ninjas of the breakfast bar. They don’t make eye contact; they just deliver sausages as a form of silent worship. Also, the orange juice is suspiciously good. I suspect it’s laced with something, but I’ve never caught them.
