Hello all you lucky lums?
Wednesday, May 25, 2011
Hello all you lucky lums?
Thursday, May 19, 2011
Good evening Lums,
Wednesday, May 11, 2011
Reports of No1 lums death are greatly exaggerated, there are embers yet.
There is nothing more entertaining than arriving at a cold, wet and windy Glasgow airport for your commuter flight to London and encountering the returning holidaymakers just landed from Tenerife or wherever. The first thing they do of course is rush outside for a fag, where they brace themselves against the wind, their shoulders so hunched up, the head looking like its trying to retract to the warmer climes of the central core, it must be a shock after two weeks in Calete de Fuste. Of course, you can see that scene outside any office or city centre pub of a miserable spring evening, what sets this off as visual poetry is the clothes. The coral white trousers, the azure blue vest tops, sandals and sunglasses perched on the bronzed dome. Each item carefully chosen before the holiday had begun to show off their expected Arabic hue on their return. The Scots in general, still like to get dressed up for a flight. Tell you what though, if the plane did nosedive at 60 degrees into Endrick Muir they would have a right job identifying the body parts, all those tracksuits, the crash investigators would think it was the Fuertaventura athletics team.
As I write this on the flight south, Robert Carlyle is sitting in the seat in front of me, I’ve always liked him, but he’s a film star, and as such, he gets the full celebrity treatment from me, which is to totally ignore him,. I’m fearful of feeding his ego and making him think he’s something special, I’m sure he appreciates it, so, no looking, no double takes, certainly no nods, or heaven forbid , words, just a well practised adoption of a policy of polite nonacknowledgement, if he speaks to me, I will of course be civil. I expect we may have a bit of a coming together when we go for our bags in the overhead, I shall say, “on ye go pal" or something. But no starry eyes.
Lang may yer lum reek.
I can offer a conclusion to the Robert Carlyle episode. We did indeed have to converse, as I let him out his seat. I went for " There you go mate" and he said "Thanks", kind of in a whispery, didn't want to be over heard way. Some crass fellow passenger started talking, probably completely inanely to him as we walked through the terminal at City airport before I lost sight of him, he's only little. Then he popped out at the smoking area for a quick fag before getting his cab. There was no eye contact as I stuck firmly to policy, I'm sure if he had looked my way he would have recognised me from an almost identical situation about 3 years ago and he would have said " don't I know you?". Anyway, off we went on our separate ways, me pleased that I hadn't inflated the egos of any actors between Glasgow and London and I proudly shared my non-experience with my flatmate when I got in. I got a bit of a row and felt just a tad guilty as she pointed to the complete box set of Hamish MacBeth she had just not two weeks ago bought and went on to proclaim herself Hamish MacBeths biggest fan. I should maybe amend policy to exclude Robert Carlyle in future, I'm due to share a plane with him in 2014, I'll make sure I have a pen.