Sunday, September 09, 2007

miracle on sauchiehall street

I was still in standard class and rather hoping for one of the poor people to do something faintly amusing for the blog when the announcement came that the train was arriving in Glasgow so I rushed back to my husband in proper civilised people’s class. My husband was busy asking the guard where the train company got the doilies they put on the backs of the seats when I found him and we both peered reluctantly out of the window. I glanced down to the reviews on the back of my so called ‘classic’ guidebook to Scotland and compared my recollection of its descriptions to the view outside the window. As soon as I got back these Boswell and Johnson chaps were going to be hearing from my solicitor demanding my £7.99 back, that was for certain. My husband looked at his watch. ‘We’ll have to go straight to the concert darling’, he frowned, ‘Oh don’t be silly’ I said, ‘he’s bound to start late’. My husband looked up towards the sky. ‘Forgive her; she knows not what she says’ he said, to a suitcase. ‘Mere mortal men may be not always on time’ he explained. ‘But Van Morrison doesn't do late’.

The lights dimmed, the music began. The audience it seemed had apparently stayed on from some kind of white revivalist church meeting that preceded it. ‘I wish I was black’, sighed my husband, as that Belfast soul wafted across the auditorium. ‘I wish you were black too darling’, I said, by way of reassuring him and sharing the experience. The band eventually began on a song that seemed to involve spelling a woman's name. The religious fervour finally became overwhelming for some people in the audience. ‘I can walk! I am saved!’ cryed a man, leaping from his seat and throwing down his zimmer frame. ‘I can see!’ hallelujah!’, cried my husband, jumping to his feet and taking out his contacts. I felt a little uneasy but as I didn’t want to draw attention to myself I too leapt up. ‘I can hear!’ I called out, taking the cotton wool out of my ears. ‘It’s a miracle!’

Well, soon after that it came to the part of the evening when my husband and I found ourselves back out in the street, the warm evening air disappointingly providing no stereotypical Scottish weather to write about at all. ‘It was awfully nice of those two burly chaps in tuxedos to show us out by the fire exit’, I said. ‘Isn’t it great to miss the crowds’? My husband looked at me. ‘Yes dear’ he said. ‘And leaving half an hour before the end also helps with that of course’, he sighed. ‘I think I need a drink’, I said and we found an Irish theme pub so the evening wouldn’t be a complete wash out. We both looked sullenly into our guinness as the chap on the stool in the corner with the guitar playing covers launched into an oh so familiar number. ‘Sha la la la la la la’ said my husband by way of accompaniement. I gave him a long hard stare and we walked back to the hotel without speaking

Saturday morning arrived. It was my husband that suggested we took the metro back to the station. ‘The metro?’ I queried, ‘so you mean....?’ my husband looked puzzled. ‘Yes, like the tube’, He clarified. It would be like going home. Now I did believe in miracles. It was a little later when my husband tentatively said to me, ‘darling?’ I looked up at him innocently. ‘Do you think you might let go of the seat now, we really need to get off you know.’ ‘Why need to get off?’ I asked. ‘because we’ve been through the last station twelve times and one more might be unlucky’, he explained. I shook my head. ‘But it's like back home’, I said, clinging to the seat. ‘But darling’, said my husband, ‘you’re not in London!’ I shook my head. ‘Underground train’ I said pointing to carriage around me, ‘London!’. My husband sighed. ‘big muddy old river; London!’ I continued, and, indicating the other passengers, ‘loads of Scottish people; London!’. ‘But darling’, argued my husband, ‘we really do have to get off!’ ‘why get off?!’ I snapped. ‘because Rangers are at home today and you’re wearing your my friend went to Lourdes and all I got was this lousy t-shirt t-shirt dear’, he explained. ‘why get off?!’ I said. ‘Because we need to go back down south to the north darling’ explained my husband. I shook my head. ‘But its grim down south up north!’ I protested. ‘Won’t even a large G&T pursuade you dear?’ asked my husband. I stood up. ‘make that two'. My husband smiled, straightening his new Charles Rennie mackintosh cravat and we set off south for the north.

24 comments:

aims said...

Welcome back Rilly!!

Now everything is right with the world....

Anonymous said...

Speaking as someone who WAS late for 'Van the Man' a couple of years back at the Bristol Hippodrome, and had to squeeze past a row of people too old and infirm to get up to let us through, I know just where you are coming from, Rilly...

Don't leave it so long next time, Ms Super - I'd taken you off my 'bookmarks' as I thought you'd dropped off the end of the world [although you might argue that Northumberland is the end of the world, sigh..], Speak soon, mwah!

lady thinker said...

welcome home - I'm sorry to say I didn't take too much to the chat on van morrison thingy tonight as I'm still in mourning for the big Pavorotti. Now there WAS a voice ...

lady thinker said...

Well I'm well and truly confused now - does this mean you's moved back down t' south - is this why you been too busy to post?!

lady thinker said...

This post reminds me of the West Wing episode where they want to turn the World Atlas top to bottom.
You see - you've only been back 5 minutes and already my mind is going 19 to the dozen ...

mutterings and meanderings said...

saw Van backstage at Glastonbury many years agoi - he was a grumpy old bugger who refused to allow anyone to take his picture!

rilly super said...

aims, thanks ever so much and also for bearing with me in my absence. Good luck with your new blog as well.

anonymous, thanks for coming back. I'm afraid I have been 'unavoidably detained' as they say and have had a little problem keeping up with such things as blogs lately, due to 'events, dear boy, events' but it is rather lovely to be back

lady thinker, yes, he was something special you are right. I watch an old 'south bank show' the other day about L.P. and did feel quite sad that he's gone. We are still in the north, although of course from Glasgow the north is in the south...

M&M, thanks for coming back. I have rather missed you. He does have a bit of a reputation doesn't he. I wouldn't want to be in his band judging by the pointing and ordering about going on on stage that night.

Flowerpot said...

welcome back rilly - are you oop there or down here? I'm confused!

Silvana said...

How very lovely, a trip to Glasgow! Did you get some nice chocolate?

Pig in the Kitchen said...

You really are a glutton for punishment, going even further north. And presumably those dolts in Scotland buggered up the trains which explains why it took you so long to get home in order to write another post. Have you considered suing?
Nice to have you back!
Pigx

@themill said...

Welcome back Rilly. You've been away even longer than I have.

Mr Farty said...

So glad you enjoyed your visit to Bonnie Scotchland. Haste ye back the noo! And come to Embra next time - we might not have the tube but we do have Harvey bloody Nicks!

Lizzie said...

Blimey our Rill, could you please give a translation for us, them what's a bit too Sarf to understand?

Lovely to see you again, btw. (And incidentally, you are really looking exceptionally well, concidering, sweetie.)

Lotsalove, Lizzie xx

Eats Wombats said...

7.99 dear? Surely a round number of guineas or some shillings?

Well, maybe not.

All this confusion about degrees of upness and down remind me of my surprise on encountering a Norwegian map of Britain... lying down. So ... leftness and rightness instead.

It's right grim .. um, part of the time.

They only put trains in Scotland for the trainspotters, cinematographers, and philosophers:

Four learned fellows are on a train traveling through Scotland, each trying to outdo the other in being factual and precise.

At one stage, the first looks out the window, and spying an animal on the field nearby, claims, "All the sheep in Scotland are white!"

The second replies, "No, SOME of the sheep in Scotland are white."

The third retorts, "No, AT LEAST ONE of the sheep in Scotland is white."

They all look at the fourth, daring him to improve on the last statement.

He thinks for a second, and replies, "At least one of the sheep in Scotland is white ON ONE SIDE."

While this exchange is going on, a fifth man is walking through the train car. He overhears the exchange and stops. He looks out the window, sees the sheep disappear in the distance, and says quietly, "At least one of the sheep in Scotland is white on one side part of the time."

J.J said...

I am glad to read your husband has CRM for his fashion guru...such style and panache!

And we missed you dearest!

I Beatrice said...

Very moving piece Rilly - and I too am so glad you're back. I'm much too elderly and uncool to be able to comment meaningfully on much of what you write - but I did cherish the idea of your husband addressing himself ardently to a suitcase.

And now at last I understand why it was that, all those years ago as a girl in New Zealand, a lass from Derbyshire assured me that "no matter how far north you come from, you always go UP, to London."

Quite right too, in my view.

Jack Havana said...

and welcome back to you dear Rilly. I know all about "local" difficulties, so wish you well with yours. And Glasgow - what a shithole, eh?

lady thinker said...

Rilly - when you settled and know whether you are on your head or your heels - up t'south or down t'north I've named you for a meme. x

http://sidmouth-town.blogspot.com/2007/09/name-game-meme.html

Mopsa said...

I want to see one of those Charles Rennie mackintoshes. Is it like a Burberry?

Sarnia said...

Hello Rilly,

Didn't understand much of the South North bit but did understand the G&T bit.

Hic.

debio said...

Welcome back, rilly.

Didn't expect you to venture even farther north to Glasgow.....

lady macleod said...

shopping is always the answer.

rilly super said...

flowerpot, its lovely to be back too, thankyou. OF course, the north of england is in the south when viewed from scotland and this can be very disorienting

silvana, a momment on the lips and all that dear, sigh

PITK, sorry for being away so long, I can never believe how little time even a woman like me with no job, a rich husband and a nanny has to write the blog . People just don't know what its like you know, sigh

@mill, thank you for coming back. It seems August is the factory holidays for us blog production line workers

Mr farty, I'm sure I will be back but will probably wait untill the spring now, after seeing what happened to scotland in 'day after tomorrow'

lizzie, super to see you too dear

rilly super said...

eats wombats, we haven't quite adopted decimal curreny in the north, you are right, so I thought I should convert it for the benefit of readers

JJ, thanks so much for dropping by. Yes, my husband does seem to have an uncanny ability to blend in whereever he goes; if only I shared that, sigh

I Beatrice, I suppose that is because going to London is always a step up in life, and conseqently leaving is a step down, sob

Jack, thanks for dropping by on your return from spending the summer in baggage reclaim at heathrow. Glad you made it back in one piece

Lady thinker, thanks, I shall drop round and see what is required of me shortly

mopsa, much more classy that that dear and you can get furniture and indeed a whole house to go with it

sarnia, hello and glad to see you back in the world of blog. yes, G&T, hmm, *looks at watch* well, I Know it;s early but who says you can't have an aperatif before breakfast...

debio, it was a shock to the system I can tell you. I did fear my husband might decide he wanted to move there but thank goodness he didn't as I find I have grown rather fond of slagging off where I live now, sigh