Two or three weeks ago on a Tuesday, I headed off for Scotland. As I left Brighton I slotted my recently purchased Simple Minds Greatest Hits CD into the player and "Don't you forget about me" sprang into the car. I was immediately transported to the Odeon in Leeds. You may know that that song features in the film The Breakfast Club, it always reminds me of going to see it and knowing throughout that I was going to be dumped by my girlfriend of the time, on the way home. I wasn't that depressed about it and could see that there was a certain art in the whole thing; I reckon the film inspired her to ditch me and it helped me to understand why.
By early evening I was sitting in the reception of a BT building in the centre of Leeds. From there Dominic and I drove to Harrogate, passing the previously mentioned cinema on the way, for a rendez-vous with Guy and his 42 inch TV which (until Dominic changed a setting) produced a picture in which everything and everyone had a green hue. The following morning after having enjoyed a very amusing evening in the Hotel du Vin and the Drum and Monkey, I had a poached egg on smoked haddock at the increasingly Stepford Wives Betty's. They have aparently refurbished again, the designer incorporating a mildly discomforting level of perfection. I felt out of place next to a table of two elderly couples; both the men wore matching silver hair and blue v necks and both the old ladies could have been confused for each other except that one was slightly more stooped. My mobile rang and this exacerbated the situation, an employee was immediately dispatched with a "no mobile phone policy" message for me. Their Full English Breakfast is £9.95.
I had some errands to run in Glasgow before I checked into the airport Travelodge. It was not busy but most of the rest of the guests seemed to be teenagers with plastic bags full of bottles of booze; whilst I checked-in the receptionist was telling a girl that she had had her vodka delivered to her room. That evening I had haggis at the bar in Rogano's.
Next morning I thought I'd just drive about a bit and see where I ended up. Entirely without intention, I found my self at the Kelvin Hall and so parked up and wandered about, ultimately reaching the recently refurbished Kelvin Gallery and Museum. I enjoyed a half hour in there, it made me realise that when I miss London sometimes, it is actually cities that I need a fix of, not neccessarily that particular one. Glasgow is quite unusual. The grid pattern streets, the handsom architecture, the optimism and grit and the culture define it quite distinctly. I didn't like the look of the cafe in the Gallery and went across the road for a brew before continuing my tour and then heading through the dark and the rain to Lochgilphead to stay at my mum's for a couple of nights.
A highly dangerous room in the Kelvin Museum & Gallery
All that driving can leave space in your head which is readily filled up by all sorts of notions. I find it a bit surreal that all these roads are occupied by people sliding along, their bottoms just above the surface, at ninety miles an hour. In order for me to get about I have arranged for myself to be accompanied by a tonne and a half of metal, leather, glass, rubber and carpet. This and many other similar devices hurtling about, in the control of variously affected beings seems inefficient at least and probably quite funny to the children of three or four generations from now; if they can forgive our profligacy.
Speeding along the A74, bright sky, occasional fluffy cloud, lines of pylons threading across those ancient hills, I couldn't help feeling that the days of enjoying Scotch Pie, baked beans and Scooby Doo are not just gone from my life due to the passage of time, but I felt like I'd rubbed my eyes and the reality of what it has and will all cost was starting to reveal itself to my imagination. I wondered about the liklihood of us all looking a bit like we were on Guy's TV quite soon.
Then last week I had a good couple of busy days at work and I have aparently drifted quite happily back into worrying about things like whether to go to my usual Indian or to try something different. (They gave us free drinks at the Indian; so feeling good about that one).
If you want harrowing, might I suggest that you look no further. That said it is a stunning and in the end life affirming thing. The performances are brilliant and I also like the dignity of the various pianos which seem unfazed by all the bad behaviour going on around them. 