Today, Mater and I enjoyed the West End sunshine and pushed out through the Byres Road throng for lunch in Ashton Lane.. She was on particularly good form and never once brought up her disappointment that Peter Mandelson was back in cabinet for the third time and I have yet to be called. (such high expectations). We had lunch in a little Italian bistro and there were no cracks in the crockery and the ladies’ lavatory was clean and well stocked with paper towels and soap. Result!
We were in her crowd. That is to say 50 000 Glasgow West Enders of all ages; involved at the university, or in art or the media or just plain flamboyant. Ask Eryl, she knows what I’m talking about.
We had a bottle and a half of some Italian wine which was red I believe. She put it away like the old days and we stumbled off over the cobbles for a fag and a coffee and a sticky bun. In the next hour, we watched another multitude, there were no clones, none of them were ugly and Viviane Westwood would have passed unremarked.
I am so old.
Hey! I noticed young men are back into Bono boots! The ones you tuck your trousers into, with straps and buckles and stuff. Dead 1980’s.When the fucking Hell did that happen?
We were in her crowd. That is to say 50 000 Glasgow West Enders of all ages; involved at the university, or in art or the media or just plain flamboyant. Ask Eryl, she knows what I’m talking about.
We had a bottle and a half of some Italian wine which was red I believe. She put it away like the old days and we stumbled off over the cobbles for a fag and a coffee and a sticky bun. In the next hour, we watched another multitude, there were no clones, none of them were ugly and Viviane Westwood would have passed unremarked.
I am so old.
Hey! I noticed young men are back into Bono boots! The ones you tuck your trousers into, with straps and buckles and stuff. Dead 1980’s.When the fucking Hell did that happen?
12 comments:
He's so vain...I bet he thinks this post is about him. Very dutiful of you to check out the ladies lav for your mum, Dr. I bet you did it when you a boy in short trousers as well.
Erm . . . I used to have a 'thing' about Mandy . . . sad . . .
Sx
bless your heart, sugar! xoxox ;)
Glasgow is nice in the autumn. Looks crisp on the lane.
I think I used to imagine him tying me to a railway track . . . he had black n'white villainous qualities . . . and he had an enormous tache . . . but then again, they all did back then.
Sx
Love to Mum. Italian, clean loo, sticky bun - what Mum could ask for more? Good boy!
Is Mater a great age now, what with you being so ancient yoursel'?
Mater's looking rather young, hip & trendy in the photo. Although the green line running into a pool from the bottom of her jeans looks like her colostomy bag might have sprung a leak
Is that really your mother in the picture? You must be much younger than you sound. I notice she is wearing the same shade of episcopalian purple that Mandy was sporting on his return to Downing Street. A message in there, perhaps?
That's not much of a bane, Dr. My Scottish mother likes to point out the shortcomings of her grandchildren and their upbringing. What's she whingeing about? They're not pregnant and they've got no asbos.
Everyone, No it ain't Mater. It's a generic picture. Setting the scene, that sort of thing. Jeez. Mater will soon be 84.
How old does she look?
well, 84.
How old does she sound though?
117.
She has never ever forgiven me for stealing all that money out her purse.
Christ, I was only 27 at the time. Come on Ma, cut me some slack.
Ah she's alright. Her one redeeming feature is her colossal snobbery. It is immense. Always has been.
It is a joy to behold.
“ Oh I got a letter from your cousin Alison in New York the other day. Full of news and on such pretty notepaper.”
You should see her when the Californian branch send her their family Christmas round robin. She is a picture. She just laughs and laughs.
Christ, have we got the same mother? Or are all Scottish mothers identical?
Maybe not quite. Mine wouldn't be seen dead in Glasgow ("that frightful accent").
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