A tale of Glasgow, sinful brunches and Jimmy Savile

Since as you know from the recent post, I am home bound and therefore there is a limited amount of things that happen to me. Boredom is hard enough to live through, not to mention write about.

I thought this was a good excuse to write a post about a city that has a very special place in my heart and one I think I will always associate with my ever so much quicker fleeting youth. I understand this statement might offend some people, considering I am 24, but the years I spent in Glasgow were this magical time where you still have all of the hopes and dreams of a child but yet the freedom of an adult.

I am far from saying that there weren't any difficult and sad times, but they could all be erased by a mad night out (or in) where all worries would be dissolved in different perspectives and replaced by other hopes and dreams.

I find this is more difficult to do as a working and responsible adult.

Perhaps though, it is all a state of mind, and has nothing to do with place and occupation. Maybe it's just my mind that is turning into an old turnip.

But let's get back to Glasgow.

K and I went to visit our old life this march and after going on a night out, which had us coming back from west end to south side of Glasgow on foot, at 6am in the most refreshing drizzle one could imagine (this is a proof of how much I distort past realities, when I lived in Glasgow I NEVER referred to any drizzle as refreshing). We stopped off for some good talks and an even more refreshing Snapple (fruit punch is the most refreshing sugary drink that ever existed!) at the top of Kelvingrove Park.

After about an hours walk we got to our friends flat (you can buy a book of this very talented gentelman here). We shared a milky tea and discussed the highlights of the night before, after which he had to start his day and go to work and we had to finish ours and hit the pillow.

Once we opened our eyes mid afternoon, there was only one fair thing to do. And that was to go to Cafe Hula for brunch:

Awfully tired but content K:

Perfect start to a lazy day with papers and tea:

Followed by incredibly indulgent, delicious and sinful brunch (we are both convinced we are wheat intolerant-but hey, we were on holiday and prepared to suffer for it), I thoroughly recommend:

On the way back, we came across this beauty:

Is it only me or is it one scary looking logo and name? Makes me really fear their targeted clientele...

I actually went to Glasgow again couple of weeks ago on my own. I was attending a charity ladies luncheon with K's mum and sister on Sunday which was the main reason for my visit.

But before we were all there:

I went out to La Cheetah, which turned out to be not as exciting as I remember (something to do with me starting to become an old turnip I think) and was followed by a rather eventful cab ride to a house party near Queen Margaret's Drive and then back to K's sisters flat, where I stayed up for few more hours, to then go to sleep and be woken up by loud rumblings above my head. It turned out that boys decided to explore the world beyond the loft hatch in the living room.

And a world they found! Turns out there was a full bathroom (with a urinal-who has urinals in domestic bathrooms?) up there, an old one for that. The interesting thing is that apart for that loft hatch they got in through (this took quite a lot of effort, as you can see on the picture below) there was no other acces to it. Curiouser and curiouser...

And next to the toilet they found a newspaper from the 1990. Now, brace yourself for one of the headlines:

Talk about timing! I suppose now it is clear why the millionaire was so solitary and had no love... I know I might be saying this now having known what we all know, but Jesus isn't he creepy looking? This is the most stereotypically looking pedophile in the most stereotypically looking room of a peadophile one could imagine! He has a single bed for crying out loud!

And this is D climbing back in to the of hatch, and P and D feet after the adventure. And me this same morning, barely able to keep my eyes open after two hours of sleep and drenched with rain trying on a coat in a charity shop.



 

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