Sinister: Romping in the UK, you don't know how lucky you are...

[petula]

        A gruelling 7 hour flight and several rounds of complimentary
amaretto later, I am home from my jaunt to Glasgow and thereabouts. Jet lag?
Pah! Refreshed from 12 days of lung cleansing northern air and nourishing
lager, I feel quite prepared to take on the task of reporting back to you lot. 

(I'm lying, I'm actually dead tired but...)

**Exhibit A: Glasgow (lovely lovely Kelvinbridge, to be precise).

        This is city is a heartbreaker. Oh, I know all those cliches about
Scotland being fabulous and friendly, blah blah blah, but I'm a hopeless
romantic and I'm afraid I quite fell in love with West Glasgow. The little
cafe on Otago where Tag, Anne, Keith and I had tea and looked over our
record finds from John Smith. The beautiful park that Anne took me through
on the way to a pub. The Java internet cafe made famous in the "Century of
Fakers" video, where we were interviewed by someone from Channel 4. A hop,
skip and a jump away from the Art School. Shopping in Safeway for Tunnock's
Caramel Logs. Nice bridges and trees. I *will* live there one day, I've decided.

Event #1: Serge Gainsbourg tribute night, Renfrew Ferry
-------------------------------------------------------

        The evening started out with us all staring at our shoes, shuffling
from the 13th Note on Clyde Street which was closed, to the other 13th Note
which was right by the venue. I was feeling quite shy, but the ice broke
eventually  (fuelled a little by alcohol methinks) and soon I found myself
chatting away with Honey Paul, Linda, Chris Leonard, Tag, Julia, Keith and
Anne amongst others. Unexpected surprise: Stevie performing "lolita go home
" <insert idiotic smile here, cos it's the closest I've come to seeing B&S
thus far> I knew I must be getting a little on the tipsy side, cos I kept
banging my head on the doorframe in the loo. Hello, some of us are over 5 feet!

Event #2: 13th Note (a.k.a. the Drunken Barn Dance)
---------------------------------------------------

        Keith, Tag, Anne & I started off with dinner at the CCA, a lovely
gallery of some sort. Where else can one dine on cumin-crusted chicken on a
bed of mango sauced fettucine noodles, all the while listening to the DJ
spin Air and Plastique Fantastique? I'm afraid I must have looked a bit
piggy though, because at one point Tag said "You're enjoying that, aren't
you?" as I licked my plate clean. 

        Continue onwards to the 13th Note, where after some clever footwork
we snagged a table and we, well, drank of course. The conversation turned to
Keith and Tag trying to think of Canadian bands they knew (and it's always
the same list: Men Without Hats, Rush and Celine Dion). Imagine my delight
when the evening was sweetly topped off with a fabulous cabbie who cranked
up the Bryan Adams that just so happened to be on the radio, so Keith could
do his famous Air Guitar routine. 

Event #3: Edinburgh, chez Honey Paul!
-------------------------------------

        I did not rule on this day, due to circumstances beyond my control
which prevented me from getting a good night's sleep--however, I must not
have looked too bad cos when we were having breakfast at Java before leaving
for Honey's, a kerr-ay-zee man from Channel 4 interviewed me about my
thoughts on Glasgow. Tag and Keith sat like 2 lumps of sticky toffee pudding
as I worked my magic with the camera. Sparkle Shirley, sparkle! 

        Embarassing moment #2: en route to Edinburgh, I was taking in the
lovely scenery alongside the M8. "Oh, aren't those reddish hills charming?",
chirped I. It was then that Keith informed me that the hills were actually
slag heaps. 

        Honey is a dear you know--he lets us silly kids invade his living
room to blare France Gall and pet his kitties.  And Linda makes fabulous
tea. Dinner at the Calvary Arms was good but I felt a bit, oh I don't know,
colonial? Not to mention that the spice made me a little woozy combined with
my lack of sleep. Headfirst into my tikka masala, that wouldn't have been
cool! I perked up when we went to the pub though, cos the christmas poo
episode of South Park was on. And joy of joys, a cosy proper bed for me to
sleep in later. 

        There's the 25 cent version kiddies-- though, being Canadian, I feel
obliged to include a brief French translation as it's our other official
language. It's brought to you by the verb romper, of course. Here you go:
"De tout les gens avec qui j'ai rompu pendant mon sejour, c'etait celui qui
aimait le fromage qui etait le plus sympa, et j'ai si hate de lui revoir". 

Compact, that French language is, isn't it?

love elisabeth xoxo           

         
             

                

        


 
 

   

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.                 Nee, nee mun pish, chan pai dee kwa
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