Month: December 2014

Despite running down Jamaica Street at full pelt after the bus sailed by me as I stood legitimately at the first stop on Union Street, I made it to the next bus stop right as the driver shut the doors, which in Glasgow these days constitutes ‘missing the bus’. The fact the bus sat there for another full minute after… Read more →

I’m on the number 3 and this auld wummin leans over me from the high seat behind me and says “Scuse me son, whit’s yer aftershave?”, and I tell her, and she says “Much d’it cost?”, and I tell her, and she says “Ooft. It’s no bad though, ye smell guid”, and I say thanks, and she says “If ah… Read more →

8:13am. There’s a man on the number 7 drinking a can of Stella while eating a macaroni pie for breakfast and singing Cheer Up Sleepy Jean between (and during) mouthfuls. He’s dressed in what I presume is his Christmas night out suit, it’s ripped at the elbows and he has a swollen face as though he’s been up the whole… Read more →

Overheard on the 7: Teen: Mam, can ah go tae that skill next year? Mum: How? Whit’s wrang wae your skill? Teen: Sarah’s movin tae that skill. Mum: Where ur we, like? Teen: Finnieston. Mum: Whit skill is it? Teen: The Gaelic wan. Mum: Naw. Definitely no. Teen: How no? Mum: Ah don’t believe in Gaelic. Teen: Ye whit? Mum:… Read more →