It has been awhile. Right now there is sunshine outside my window, and the voices of men doing construction next door lack the expected Glasgow lilt. California is nice, we have vegetables and recycling, and markedly less rain. Back for a month, and I miss Scotland, but the pangs are bearable as I am still pretty thrilled to be in the beautiful, beautiful bay. I suppose I should finish my travelogue, before getting back to the normal swing of things; not because I think anyone will read it but because I think it will come in handy. What with my very shoddy recording habits and a million blank journals stashed under my bed. So lets see, the remaining Glasgow highlights before the Christmas travel extravaganza began. I got to see Girls. Yes, another American band. It was wondrous. November in Glasgow was freezing, and I wrote this after an incident with a stapler that left me disturbed and more in love than ever.
Untitled
It’s never bright enough that I
don’t need the light on
Even at Midday
This may be a real November
My hair only curls when it rains
Lately it’s been so curly the
mirror has forgotten I have ears
When I staple my finger
It's so cold it doesn’t bleed
Friends visited from Spain and France, they grimaced over Scottish breakfast and ooohed over chips and curry. Thanksgiving was celebrated with an American feast and British companionship, as well as an impromptu fiddle session by a lovely girl from Skye. Christmas came to George's Square and many a night was spent shivering and smiling at the Christmas market. Birthdays were celebrated nicely and sleazily at Nice n' Sleazy, and we got our first snowfall which was magic. There was a midnight pajama walk to campus with a bunch of wide-eyed California kids, as pure white feathers fell from the sky, and we laughed in disbelief. Eden and I took a trip to the Highlands in the middle of a hurricane and made it home safely by the grace of god and Billy the tour guide. There were of course more Stuart Murdoch sightings, and even a trip to the Blair Estate, the ancestral seat of my Scottish predecessors. I have been dreaming of that trip since the silliest days of girlhood, and actually making it with Eden and a dusting of snow on the ground was kind of the best thing ever. After that it was off to London, Prague, Berlin, and Christmas in Heidenau before a few messy and mournful last days in Glasgow. Here is some (read: far too much) photographic proof to substantiate the last paragraph.
Living under the Union Jack.
Not the Girls show, but the Antlers at the ever hip King Tut's.
View from Calton Hill, Edinburgh at night.
Fiddling at Thanksgiving.
Eating the leftovers the night of Thanksgiving. It was delicious.
Black pudding, bacon, sausage, potato scone, baked beans, fried eggs and fried tomato = Scottish Breakfast.
Christmas slide at Georges Square,
Lights!
Birthday bakery trip. Happy happy kids.
The Kelvingrove river.
Birthday timez.
The ultimate pub wall graffiti. Maggie Smith FTW!
Snow.
Making snow angels in the quadrangle.
Sledding in Kelvingrove.
My hood.
Getting to know the statuary at the Wallace Monument.
Today it rained all day. There was also wind. My umbrella is going to be in recovery for a long time. Thought i'd put up a little creative recount of the this month's Guy Fawkes/Bonfire night festivities. My friends and I, along with most of the city, booked it out to Glasgow Green to watch the fireworks. Fireworks in winter are kind of a new phenomenon for me. They started going off in the streets right around daylight savings time (Glaswegians really know how to make use of the extra darkness).
I have accompanied it with photos gleaned from the Flickr account of a certain Terry Clerkson whom I thank very much. They were taken from a different location than mine but I think they are beautiful and also give a glimpse of the Gorbals. Yeah, there is a part of town called the Gorbals. Look it up.
Bonfire Night
Winter is in the grass on the Green
The cold seeps upward
Through sole and sock
All the city is out
Breathing into November’s early
black
As smoke drifts
Across East End sky
And a mist hangs on the Clyde
Where reflected fireworks bloom
and sparkle
Lamps light faces
And carnival music plays
Over the hush of the crowd
Hands held for warmth
But more for the fear of losing
them to the night.
Okie doke. That's pretty much it. Oh, and this song. A Scottish-Amurican alliance in music. I am all over this! AberDEEEEEEEEEN! I saw them perform this song here and it was neat.
I have been lucky enough to catch a few shows starting this past week with the Arctic Monkeys at Glasgow's massive-est venue. I think it was my first ever real, solidly rock n' roll show, with actual famous people. We even had to wait in line, and the place was swarming with kids with mouths full of braces hurling cups of beer into the crowd. It was the first time I have been in a venue that big, where I had to stand so far back that the band looked miniature. Luckily there were huge screens on which I could watch them stomp around and repeatedly slick back their hair. Surprisingly enough it was a really good show, and they sounded great live. Everyone was really happy to see them. Eden is rather fond of frontman Alex Turner so the night before I drew her a picture of him, based off of a recent GQ photo, as a little pre-show souvenir. It looks like this:
I played with the proportions of the hands. I feel like they are key to his career as a musician, so important, no?
And here, in a bit more detail:
Here's one of theirs from the new album. All of the songs are good. S'hard to pick one. Go listen to the whole thing on Spotify or somethin.
Found out he's from Sheffield. A northern lad with a northern accent. His stuff for the Submarine soundtrack is really good. Here's a bit. I like it.
Anyway, I saw Girls last night, and ran into Stuart Murdoch last weekend so i'm still reeling from all this close contact with personal creative idols. I'll put up some writing soon. There's so much good music floating around....... Oh wait, this one too.
It takes only a half hour to cross the grey and windy sea in a little plane that shakes and rattles and land safe and sound on the Emerald Isle. A born and raised Dubliner cabbied us from the airport to Elise's sumptuous flat, where we slept on beds made of clouds. Saturday after a breakfast of crumpets, jam and tea we visited the national museum and saw an incredible exhibit of Celtic High Crosses. They were very tall and very old. We headed to city centre, crossed the river Liffey, and took a peek at Trinity College. There we saw the book of Kells, which was wondrous and spooky. We also saw the old college library built in 1712, immaculately preserved and stacked floor to ceiling with old books that smelled delightfully musty. Then we strolled St. Stephen's Green, looking at the ducks, and redheads. On the way to Whitefriar's church we stopped in a bookshop called Hodges Figgis where I purchased a wee book of W.B. Yeats poems. At Whitefriar's we saw St. Valentine's remains after which we headed out for a dinner of fish and chips (in my case chips and curry) in Temple Bar.
Downtown Dubbly.
Trinity grounds.
Bicycles and branches on campus.
The perfect Ireland photo. It was also an accident.
Elise and Eden by the duckpond in St. Stephen's Green.
Swanlings.
All the birds.
Fountain time.
Me and ole' James.
They don't mess around in Ireland.
Nighttime in Temple Bar.
Night lights on the Liffey. It was really beautiful.
We three. Elise, Eden and I.
Sunday we walked past the Guinness factory and breakfasted at Queen of Tarts where we had some tasty Bailey's cheesecake. Then we took the train to the village of Howth, on the way passing some local kids burning office furniture in a park. It was well gritty. Howth was beautiful and bleak. We saw the Sunday market, ships, the seaside and even a selkie before a downpour forced us from the quays. We sought shelter and dinner and ended up eating bangers and mash while we watched the rain. Back in Dublin we headed to a pub, where we had a chat while eaves dropping on the fellow next to me who asked the person on the other end of the phone that "the staff have dinner ready at 8." and also " is her ladyship is coming?". All the while this was happening some old guys at the bar, arms round each others shoulders, sang sad folk songs including a prettily slurred rendition of Dirty Old Town.
View of rolling hills from Elise's penthouse.
A very candid shot of me and my cheesecake.
One of many incredible cathedrals.
Ruins of a cathedral by the sea in Howth.
A sign in Gaelic.
Elise and I looking windswept.
The seaside. This doesn't nearly do it justice.
So many boats.
Down by the Quays.
Another boat.
Monday we saw Kilmainhom Gaol, which housed many of the leaders of the Irish rebellions, and even saw some of them executed. It was an interesting and sobering experience. Then we watched a bit of a marathon that was happening, and took a drenching walk downtown where we devoured some savory crepes before catching the bus back to the airport.
Run run run.
Scary snakes above the gaol door.
The flag in the gaol-yard where the executions took place.
"Ah, faeries, dancing under the moon/ A druid land, a druid tune!" -W.B. Yeats from To Ireland in the Coming Times.
Morgan family Christmastime standard. "If there's a drink the the house would it make itself known?" The Chieftains have got so much win.
The Pogues. Shane Macgowan is a beaut no matter what anyone says. I can't even pick my favorite song this one was just highly applicable.
