A Day Away

We spent a couple of days with our friends near Glasgow: just back. One afternoon we did what we haven't done in a long while - just ambled around, aimlessly looking in on some shops, including the odd art gallery, sitting on benches in the wide, traffic free city centre streets listening to the street musicians (shades of my novel, Going with Gabriel), leisurely lunch in a very good, very inexpensive Italian restaurant. You get the picture. Wonderful.

If you ever read McArthur's epic master-novel, No Mean City you'll know what, in the back of my mind, I thought we might be in for; so what a very pleasant surprise was ours! Sauchiehall Street a real revelation.

Regular readers of this blog will know what I generally think about overcrowded places. But watching all the world go hurrying by, this way and that, in the afternoon sunshine - what a strangely restful interlude in overcrowded lives spent happily in the undercrowded north west Highlands of scotland. Guess we all need contrast, which is why we all go on holidays. That, and in this case the company of good friends who know all about the best of craic and the good old Isle of Jura!

So now we're home and the NO VACANCY sign down off our B&B sign and already a very nice young German couple have booked themselves in. Carried one of their cases upstairs, which was a big mistake. 'Is very heavy', she says, concerned for my seniority. 'Not a problem,' say I, unwilling to show how old I'm not. But at the top of the stairs I all but keeled over, breathless, although still managing a speechless, nonchalent grin. Pride is one of the cardinal sins. A hurtful one.

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