Rothesay

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Rothesay is on an island, which means that to get there you have to swim and swim and swim. Or catch a ferry. And, as we all know, ferries are fun. For me, it wouldn't matter where that ferry was going; indeed, I would quite happily catch a ferry that did nothing more taxing than bounce up and down upon a few waves before returning from whence it came. You are constantly reminded about the waves thing on ferries. You only have to try to move a chair to find it strangely fixed to the floor by stout elastic rope. This is so you may still be seated comfortably when the vessel is upside down. Not that ferries are often upside down, you understand, although in a gusty breeze they can coast over the water at a jaunty angle that may see your stomach contents attempt an escape.
A day in Rothesay is a step into a glorious bygone era of cast iron extravagance. Chances are, you will catch your ferry at Wemyss Bay, and the railway station there is a breathtaking visual feast. The curving cast iron station was built in the Edwardian period and is a thing of great beauty. Then, when you reach Rothesay, you are presented with more tantalising titbits of the great British seaside holiday, like perfectly preserved and seriously palatial Victorian public toilets, along with a Winter Garden whose cast iron skeleton was fashioned by McFarlane's Saracen Foundry in Glasgow in the 1920s. And thanks to the men and women who fought hard to preserve such wonderful structures, Rothesay is once again a desirable place to visit.