Nobody Knows
Why Elvis threw it all away, nobody knows why Ruby had to die. Nobody knows why Mike decided to walk........
I hadn't intended to blog about Glasgow but after the sensory overload of NEDS (Non Educated Delinquents), Huns (derogatory term for Rangers fans) and STDs (talk to one of the American based walkers) I felt it would be remiss not to record the events of the first day.
All bar Cormac converged at the hotel circa 2.30pm whereupon Pa's hair (and that George Clooney coif) quickly became the foremost topic. I mean, seriously. The duck of shame was immediately passed to him.
And when Pa started on the usual guff about it not being about the destination, but instead the journey that's when we realized we were in big trouble. His bleatings about Glasgow being the hotbed of Scottish music also wore thin after the first 15 bands. Something would have to be done. We remain confident that Cormac will put manners on him eventually - perhaps a good beating?
We walked for an hour over to Eilidh Galvin's communion led by Vic with the philosopher continued to rant on about God being a waste of space and so forth. So when we got to the pub in the West End all we could do was quickly down a few beers to try and numb the pain and the droning noise. It was going to be a long day.
Then our luck turned. Deirdre and Angus invited us back to theirs to meet the folks and to have a wee dram and that was all good fun. The haggis sausage rolls from the Latvian lady did the trick. Sensational fare. Afterwards we headed towards Tennents, Angus's local sports bar, to watch Munster where Mike and Pa met the legendary Neil Lennon.
Neil gave us a 15 minute inspirational speech where he emphasized that it was all about the destination and not the journey and also on the need to ruthlessly weed out the weakest link. Neil also noted Frank's obvious leadership qualities and sympathised with Frank re. the derisory nature of the crew. To be honest though nobody knew what the heck he was saying cos of the accent but it sounded good all the same. As it happens he also knew all about Don Cuddy and the fact that Don was the only human in the Greyhound Hall of Fame based in Abilene, Kansas.
The taxi driver who took us to King Tuts told us all about the Rangers socks: black with a red tip on top representing the blood of many fenians- charming. There was a screw up re the all the restaurants being closed - it wasn't Vic's fault apparently- and the bands were pretty good.
I hadn't intended to blog about Glasgow but after the sensory overload of NEDS (Non Educated Delinquents), Huns (derogatory term for Rangers fans) and STDs (talk to one of the American based walkers) I felt it would be remiss not to record the events of the first day.
All bar Cormac converged at the hotel circa 2.30pm whereupon Pa's hair (and that George Clooney coif) quickly became the foremost topic. I mean, seriously. The duck of shame was immediately passed to him.
And when Pa started on the usual guff about it not being about the destination, but instead the journey that's when we realized we were in big trouble. His bleatings about Glasgow being the hotbed of Scottish music also wore thin after the first 15 bands. Something would have to be done. We remain confident that Cormac will put manners on him eventually - perhaps a good beating?
We walked for an hour over to Eilidh Galvin's communion led by Vic with the philosopher continued to rant on about God being a waste of space and so forth. So when we got to the pub in the West End all we could do was quickly down a few beers to try and numb the pain and the droning noise. It was going to be a long day.
Then our luck turned. Deirdre and Angus invited us back to theirs to meet the folks and to have a wee dram and that was all good fun. The haggis sausage rolls from the Latvian lady did the trick. Sensational fare. Afterwards we headed towards Tennents, Angus's local sports bar, to watch Munster where Mike and Pa met the legendary Neil Lennon.
Neil gave us a 15 minute inspirational speech where he emphasized that it was all about the destination and not the journey and also on the need to ruthlessly weed out the weakest link. Neil also noted Frank's obvious leadership qualities and sympathised with Frank re. the derisory nature of the crew. To be honest though nobody knew what the heck he was saying cos of the accent but it sounded good all the same. As it happens he also knew all about Don Cuddy and the fact that Don was the only human in the Greyhound Hall of Fame based in Abilene, Kansas.
The taxi driver who took us to King Tuts told us all about the Rangers socks: black with a red tip on top representing the blood of many fenians- charming. There was a screw up re the all the restaurants being closed - it wasn't Vic's fault apparently- and the bands were pretty good.
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