SlyBob's Travel Guide to...
Perth

Is Perth a city? Is it? Even the people of Perth don't seem to know?

Only officially awarded the status in 2012, they've been calling themselves one since the 12th century, largely due to its importance as a port and the inevitable ding-dongs with the English as a site of strategic interest.

No, there's no cathedral, but, as you should know by now, them's not the rules, and at least they can stop banging on about getting their Skoon back, but more on that in a minute.

As cities go, it's certainly compact, bounded by a railway line to the left and a river to the right to create a centre not much more than a ¼-of-a-square-mile in size, we think.

The river in question is the River Tay, of course, Scotland's longest watercourse and the UK's busiest in terms of discharge.

That's the scientific definition of discharge, by the way, for the volume of outflow, and not the one commonly assumed when used in the context of a river, these days, right Feargal?

Local sandstone lends a little identity, but nothing particularly eye-catching, as yet.

Shopfronts have been routinely repurposed for the retail, although the modern shopping addition is done sympathetically enough.

That's not a lot different to many places elsewhere in the UK, so sticking with the familiar, let's head for a sit-down and a scone.

No, not that sort, silly!

We're talking about the Stone of Scone or the Stone of Destiny, both of which are easier than clach-na-cinneamhuinn. That'll always be Scone as in Skoon, like you didn't know already, and never a dead giveaway in a bakery that you hail from north of Leeds, but what is it?

Successions of ding-dongs with the English saw it confiscated by Edward I in the 13th century, and they've been asking for it back ever since. Used in every coronation of Scottish and then English monarchs, it's a chair, basically, or rather the oblong block of sandstone that's sat on.

Stolen just up the road at Scone Abbey - thanks Mike , and unlike a game of Grecian marbles, it returned to Scotland in 1996 before Pickford™s transported it south for King Charles III's crowning.

Following Charlie's coronation, cushions presumably provided, the Stone of Destiny was returned, this time, and it's now on permanent display, via Edinburgh Castle, in Perth Museum... for free!

Not that an ignorant Bob knew anything of this on the day. In fact, if ever to make an appearance on The Chase, I did, by the way, given 'What is the Stone of Destiny?'

A. Celtic Cross
B. Coronation Seat
C. Sacramental Relic

It's C. all day long, right Bradders?

The museum is the recent result of a conversion of what was Perth's prime entertainment venue, sat empty since 2005. The 'Stone' occupies a walk-in wardrobe in the former space of the City Hall, and a walkaround balcony upstairs overlooks it all, nice job.

Passages to galleries on both levels provide further distractions, and it's the passages that are of particular interest. The ones outside, that is, now the temporary exhibition on 'Vennels: Perth's Little Streets' has been visited, and that's 'vennel' as in the kind last seen in Cromarty.

More than a dozen lead off the main drags, and here's our favourite - Cutlog Vennel.

Cow, Fleshers', Ropemakers, Salt and Weaver hint at the history of how livings were earned up these not-much-wider-than-single-file, lanes that linked the medieval town.

Public artworks are appearing up 'em, and can be ticked off on a vennel trail if you too think the Stone of Destiny is just an old boulder.

The vennels invariably lead back to where you were previously, which is the museum, and you'll never be far away from St. John's Place, essentially the centre of this small city.

Those fond of a performance didn't have far to go, neither, following the closure of City Hall, they're now accommodated at the purpose-built Perth Theatre and Concert Hall.

Theatre, comedy, music of the classical and contemporary varieties, bodybuilding competitions and boxing make for a versatile, if a little monopolising, venue.

Staying in Perth's cultural quarter, Perth Art Gallery might not be so modern.

If you're remotely interested in why John Everett Millais started to paint the Perthshire countryside, however, it's a fine and free hour, and some if you fancy a coffee.

Aside from temporary exhibitions, national cultural attractions are largely free, but Perth's, and Scotland's in general, are a welcome respite from the rain. You never know, you might learn something?

The other option for dodging the drops is more unnecessary coffee, and let's give our custom to a local business we've not seen or heard of before - Bob & Berts.

Clearly catering to a youthful crowd who are no strangers to automated ordering, the admin involved, however, is giving SlyBob a headache, although that could be down to too much caffeine already?

They're now known to be a Northern Irish chain, crossing to Scotland and slowly heading south into Northern England, but what's wrong with a person at a till, Bob? Why are we waiting ten minutes for a small slice of something sweet on a saucer, Bert?

That strongly worded letter in the suggestion box isn't expected to be acted upon anytime soon. Neither of the founders, get this, are named Bob or Bert.

Oh! Another thing - you're missing an apostrophe, Bert! And this is what they call progress? Under 25s, on the other hand, will think it all perfectly fine.

Perth offers up a handful of other eye-catching distractions, although BANK Bar was never ever a bank and sounds like it functions as a daytime nightclub, these days.

Functional is very apt, actually, this is a place where people live and need things and the surrounding streets serve every inch of that purpose.

South Inch, by contrast, is a previously unseen bit of green, and that's 'Inch' as in 'Island' since it used to reside in the Tay.

Sir Walter Scott welcomes you in, as thanks for his 1828 novel The Fair Maid of Perth, which was instrumental in raising Perth's profile.

The traffic cone hat is a mandatory accessory in Scotland, a tradition now taken up by Bostonians following the Tartan Army's invasion at the U.S. edition of the 2026 World Cup of Soccerball.

Meanwhile, back at the museum, the Stone of Destiny nearly came home in 1950 when four Glasgow University students managed to nick it from Westminster Abbey. The farthest it got, however, was under a field in Kent, or at least half of it did.

They dropped it, you see, as were all charges for fear of the equivalent of a diplomatic incident, despite an intensive investigation including the closure of the border for the first time in 400 years.

The event raised the profile of Scottish Nationalism, and someone should make a film of this. Oh!  They have? Well, maybe, but we tell you what...

You put some words and music to that sunshine and you've got yourself a show!

It'd be better than Trainspotting The Musical, eh?