Wee Scottish Tours

Wee Scottish Tours Experience Scotland in style with a private luxury vehicle and your own personal driver guide offering bespoke luxury tours!

STGA/HOST and Wh**ky Diploma qualified. Tour Scotland with us and we will show you all there is to see!

06/09/2026

One of the last sunny days in Oban. This year.

I’m not going to pretend that doesn’t feel like something.

Oban Distillery. McCaig’s Tower behind it. The sun doing exactly what it should. The bay below catching the light.

And me. Knowing this might be the last time this year it looks quite like this.

If you’ve followed me for a while you know about me and Oban.

You know I come back here as often as I can.

You know I talk about it too much, photograph it constantly, and show it to every group I bring through the west coast like I’m handing them something precious.

Because I am.

Oban Distillery has been here since 1794. One of Scotland’s oldest. Making wh**ky in the middle of a working town while ferries come and go and seagulls patrol the harbour and McCaig’s Tower keeps watch from the hill above — unfinished since 1902, looking like the Colosseum decided Scotland was exactly right.

All of it together. In sunshine like this.

There is no place quite like it.

An t-Òban. The Little Bay.

The most perfectly named town in Scotland. A name that tells you exactly what it is and somehow still undersells it completely.

Gateway to the Hebrides. Gateway to Mull, Iona, Colonsay, Coll, Tiree. To islands that look like they were made up by someone who loved Scotland too much to be realistic about it.

You stand here and the whole west coast opens up in front of you.

The season is changing. The light is different already. The days are drawing in.

But Oban does autumn beautifully too.

And winter.

And every version of itself in every weather.

It never disappoints. Not once. Not ever.

On every private luxury driving tour of the West Coast of Scotland Oban is not optional.

It is the destination.

And on a day like today — I am the luckiest person in Scotland.

05/09/2026

The leaves are turning. Already. 🍂🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁷**

It caught me off guard.

One moment summer. And then — look at that.

The River Teith today. Running high and fast after the rain. That specific sound of water that has somewhere urgent to be. The banks already beginning to shift colour — the first golds and ambers appearing at the edges of green that was here last week.

And above it all. That sky.

That completely, inexplicably, perfectly blue Scottish autumn sky.

There is a Scotland that the summer visitors miss entirely.

This one.

The one that starts quietly in late August — a single tree here, a russet edge there — and builds week by week into something so extraordinary that people who see it for the first time genuinely don't believe it's real.

Autumn in Scotland is not a consolation prize for missing summer.

It is its own thing entirely.

The light changes. Goes lower. Goes golden. The colours that come out of Scottish woodland in September and October belong to no other country on earth.

And the rivers — the Teith, the Tay, the Tweed, the Forth — running full and fast and cold and brown-green under skies like this one.

The River Teith flows from Loch Venacher through Callander and into the Forth. Rob Roy MacGregor's country. The Highland Boundary Fault crossing it. The gateway between the Lowlands and the Highlands running right through this water.

Wild in summer. Wilder now.

More itself somehow.

Autumn is the most underbooked season for touring Scotland.

Which means the roads are quieter. The places more peaceful. The colours at their most extraordinary.

This is when a **private luxury driving tour through the Trossachs and Scottish Highlands** becomes something genuinely unforgettable.

Book this autumn. Trust me.

04/09/2026

Someone stopped time here.

And I don't think they've mentioned it to anyone.

Culross. Fife.

The cobbled streets. The ochre-painted buildings. The crow-stepped gables. The mercat cross. The abbey on the hill.

All of it exactly as it was in the 17th century.

Not restored to look like it. Not reconstructed. Not a heritage theme park.

Just — preserved. Accidentally. Completely.

When the trade that made Culross wealthy declined, the money to change it disappeared too. So it stayed. Every building. Every close. Every stone.

And now you walk into it and time does something strange.

Culross was once one of the most important trading burghs in Scotland. Salt and coal. Exports to the Low Countries. A town so prosperous it built a palace — the Culross Palace — lit with 800 candles for King James VI's visit.

800 candles. To impress a king.

The painted wooden ceilings inside are among the finest surviving examples in Scotland.

St Mungo — the patron saint of Glasgow — was born here. Right here. In this village that almost nobody visits.

Glasgow's patron saint. Born in Scotland's best preserved 17th century village.

Neither the village nor St Mungo appear on most tourist itineraries.

Scotland. Quietly extraordinary. Constantly unannounced.

Outlander has filmed here. Which tells you everything you need to know about what this place looks like when the cameras arrive.

It doesn't need a filter. It doesn't need a period costume. It just needs you to walk in and look.

20 minutes from the Forth Bridges. Free to walk. Almost entirely undiscovered by the crowds.

On a private luxury driving tour through Fife and the Kingdom of Scotland, Culross is a stop that genuinely stops people.

Every time

03/09/2026

Scottish Snack Series. The scone edition.

A fresh scone.

A cup of coffee.

And — I said what I said — keeping you regular.

I make no apologies. It’s a public service announcement. The scone does what the scone does. Scotland knows this.

Now. The scone deserves more respect than it gets.

Not a biscuit. Not a cake. Not bread. Something entirely its own — that specific texture that only happens when cold butter meets flour meets the exact right amount of handling and the exact right temperature oven.

Too much working of the dough and you lose the lift. Too little and it doesn’t hold.

The scone is precise. The scone has opinions. The scone will let you know immediately if you’ve done something wrong.

This one had done nothing wrong.

Fresh. Still warm. That specific resistance when you pull it open — the inside soft, the outside holding its shape with quiet confidence.

Butter first.

Or jam first.

This is not a debate I will be entering today. Both sides have made their feelings known. Both sides are deeply committed. I respect everyone and I am saying nothing.

What I will say — the scone was excellent and the coffee was excellent and Scotland continues to deliver on this front consistently and without drama.

A fresh scone and a good coffee is one of the great underrated experiences of travelling in Scotland.

In a tearoom in the Borders after a morning at Abbotsford. On a harbour wall in Anstruther. In a Highland café that doesn’t have WiFi and is proud of it.

On every **private luxury driving tour through Scotland** — there is always a scone stop.

Always.

Non-negotiable. Medically advisable. Scotland-approved.

03/09/2026

Scottish Snack Series. The scone edition.

A fresh scone.

A cup of coffee.

And — I said what I said — keeping you regular.

I make no apologies. It's a public service announcement. The scone does what the scone does. Scotland knows this.

Now. The scone deserves more respect than it gets.

Not a biscuit. Not a cake. Not bread. Something entirely its own — that specific texture that only happens when cold butter meets flour meets the exact right amount of handling and the exact right temperature oven.

Too much working of the dough and you lose the lift. Too little and it doesn't hold.

The scone is precise. The scone has opinions. The scone will let you know immediately if you've done something wrong.

This one had done nothing wrong.

Fresh. Still warm. That specific resistance when you pull it open — the inside soft, the outside holding its shape with quiet confidence.

Butter first.

Or jam first.

This is not a debate I will be entering today. Both sides have made their feelings known. Both sides are deeply committed. I respect everyone and I am saying nothing.

What I will say — the scone was excellent and the coffee was excellent and Scotland continues to deliver on this front consistently and without drama.

A fresh scone and a good coffee is one of the great underrated experiences of travelling in Scotland.

In a tearoom in the Borders after a morning at Abbotsford. On a harbour wall in Anstruther. In a Highland café that doesn't have WiFi and is proud of it.

On every **private luxury driving tour through Scotland** — there is always a scone stop.

Always.

Non-negotiable. Medically advisable. Scotland-approved.

01/09/2026

Back at Abbotsford. Again. Nobody else here. Again

I don’t think this place wants me to leave.

Honestly. I’m starting to think it’s personal.

The gardens are quieter now. The big bloom is over — the flowers that stopped me completely in spring are resting. The plants pulling back.
The trees holding on to the last of what summer gave them.

Different. Still extraordinary.

The kind of quiet that a garden has when it’s between performances and doesn’t care who sees it.

I stood under one of the apple trees.

Looked at the apples.

Looked around.

Nobody.

I was — very briefly — tempted.

I did not take one.

But I thought about it for longer than I should have and I feel Sir Walter Scott would have understood completely.

The man collected everything. Weapons, relics, bones, curiosities from across Scotland and the world. He filled Abbotsford with things he simply could not leave behind.

An apple from his own garden tree is exactly the kind of thing he’d have pocketed without apology.

I showed more restraint than Sir Walter Scott.

Barely.

This is the thing about Abbotsford in the quieter months.

You have it almost entirely to yourself.

The house in the background. The River Tweed below. The trees. The silence. The feeling that you’ve walked into somewhere private that has simply decided to let you stay for a while.

Scott spent his whole life building this place.

His horses stopped here on the way to bury him.

And now it just sits here. Patient. Beautiful in every season.

Waiting for the next person who can’t quite bring themselves to leave.

That’s me. Every time.
The Scottish Borders. Still the most undervisited, most peaceful, most quietly extraordinary part of Scotland.

On a private luxury driving tour through the Scottish Borders— Abbotsford is always on the route.

Always

31/08/2026

This morning. The Forth Bridges. Waiting

And it hit me again.

The thing that hits me sometimes when I stop and actually look at where I am and what I do.

I am so lucky.

The Forth Rail Bridge catching the morning light. 136 years old. Still the second longest cantilever bridge on earth. 57 men died building it — every one of them remembered.

The Queensferry Crossing alongside it. The most slender cable-stayed bridge of its size anywhere in the world.

Three bridges across the same stretch of water.

Different centuries. Same river. Same view.

And me. This morning. Just standing here waiting. In the quiet before the day began.

This is not a dramatic moment.

No group arriving yet. No itinerary running. No questions to answer.

Just a man, a bridge, a beautiful morning, and a feeling that I cannot fully put into words but have stopped trying to.

It's the feeling of doing the right thing in the right place.

People ask me what the best part of this job is.

Not the castles — though the castles are extraordinary.

Not the history — though the history is everything.

It's this.

The moments between. The mornings before. The view you've seen a hundred times that still stops you on the hundred and first.

If it ever stops stopping me — that's when I'll worry.

It hasn't yet.

This is what runs underneath every **private luxury driving tour of Scotland** we take people on.

Not just the knowledge. Not just the route.

The genuine love for this country that makes every morning at a bridge feel like the first one.

Come and feel it too.

30/08/2026

I need you to look at this. 🦚🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁷

Really look.

White peacocks.

On the grounds of Scone Palace.

Walking around like they own the place.

Which — given this is the coronation ground of 42 Scottish kings — is perhaps appropriate.

Scone Palace. Perth.

The Stone of Destiny sat on this ground for centuries — the stone on which Scottish kings were crowned — before Edward I of England took it in 1296. It came back to Scotland in 1996. The crowning ground remains.

Macbeth was crowned here. Robert the Bruce. Charles II.

And today — a white peacock strolled across the same ground and stared at me.

Neither of us blinked first.

White peacocks are not albino.

They carry a genetic mutation called leucism — they still produce pigment elsewhere, but their feathers contain none. The result is this. Pure white. Every feather. The tail fanning out like something from a painting that doesn't quite believe in itself.

In sunlight, they glow.

Against the red sandstone of Scone Palace, on this ancient ground, on a Scottish summer afternoon — I genuinely did not know what to do with myself.

I just stood there.

The peacocks at Scone are each named after a Scottish monarch — free roaming, completely unbothered, treating 800 years of history as their personal garden.

Which is exactly what it is.

The white ones carry that same energy.

But more so.

Quieter. More deliberate. Something almost otherworldly about them in a place already thick with centuries of significance.

This is the Scotland that stops you mid-sentence.

On a **private luxury driving tour through Perthshire** — Scone Palace is a stop that consistently leaves people speechless.

White peacocks optional.

But highly recommended

Big shout out to my newest top fans! 💎Irene McIlwraith, Sandra MurphyDrop a comment to welcome them to our community, f...
29/08/2026

Big shout out to my newest top fans! 💎

Irene McIlwraith, Sandra Murphy

Drop a comment to welcome them to our community, fans

29/08/2026

Scottish Snack Series continues.

Chicken curry.

In a pie.

I know. Take a moment. Let it land.

Chicken curry. Inside a shortcrust pastry case. Hot. From a local bakery.

In Scotland, we put most things in pies. This is not a problem. This is not an accident. This is a deliberate, considered, consistently excellent national policy.

And this particular decision?

Outstanding.

Now. The bakery.

I'm not telling you where it is.

I know. I know.

But here's the thing — this is a hidden gem. A local place. The kind of bakery that exists for the people who live nearby and the very lucky people who find it by accident. The moment it ends up on a list somewhere, it becomes a destination, the queues appear, the magic changes.

So. The secret stays.

What I will tell you:

Hot pastry. Generous filling. The kind of curry that has warmth and depth and clearly came from someone who knew exactly what they were doing inside that pie. Not a shortcut. Not a compromise. A genuinely good curry, wrapped in genuinely good pastry.

This is Scotland.

Where the pie is not just acceptable — the pie is respected.

The pie deserves respect.

Scotland has one of the oldest and most serious pie cultures in Britain. The Scotch pie — mutton in a hot water crust — has been a staple since at least the Middle Ages. But Scotland never stopped there.

Macaroni pie. Steak pie. Haggis pie.

And now this.

Chicken curry pie.

Logical. Inevitable. Correct.

The secret bakery location stays secret.

But come on a private driving tour of Scotland with me and who knows what we find along the way.

Address

38 Thistle Street
Edinburgh
EH21EN

Opening Hours

Monday 7am - 8pm
Tuesday 7am - 8pm
Wednesday 7am - 8pm
Thursday 7am - 8pm
Friday 7am - 8pm
Saturday 7am - 8pm
Sunday 7am - 8pm

Telephone

+447478070475

Website

Alerts

Be the first to know and let us send you an email when Wee Scottish Tours posts news and promotions. Your email address will not be used for any other purpose, and you can unsubscribe at any time.

Shortcuts

Share

Category