Month: March 2015

So my commute this week’s a lot fancy-shmancier than my usual trip on the number 9, and I’ve been dropped off at the airport in a Rolls-Royce, and I’ve been in the executive lounge with the hobnobbers and suits, and I’m standing in the queue waiting to board a flight back to Glasgow. And the lassie from BA makes an… Read more →

So I’m standing by the bus stops in Paisley outside the Piazza, and I’m wondering what the commotion is amongst a wee crowd gathered at the next stop along, and I realise all these folk are looking down and that there’s apparently someone on the ground in the middle of the scrum. And then someone calls something out, and then… Read more →

Overheard on the Number 4 (otherwise known as the 44, pre-‘simplification’, and not to be confused with the 4A or 44A). “An ah’m no jokin, like, neither ah um, ah says tae her, Look, Naw Tracy hen, ah’m no pittin it away fur ye. Nuht. Ah’m no. Naw, ah’m no. Umurnae. Ah’ve telt ye ah don’t ken how many times,… Read more →