Saturday, October 3, 2009

glaswegian adventuress

glasgow suits amelia. well,all of scotland really. from the stag's head in the pub across the road from our hotel (one of those basement pubs at the bottom of a huge georgian terrace house), which - after terrifying the nappies off her for a little while, is now ok because it has, as she keeps telling people we meet, including the chinese takeaway venor, "s'got no legs - can't run - can't cash amelia, scawes amelia", to the dilapidated playground in kelvin grove park, where amidst sweeping elm and oak trees, beneath the towering gothic spires of the university and museum, and the loud bellows of her genetically similar playmates, to the snug, tiny, darkwooded whisky bar (no pun intended), where she went to sleep while rich scots accents flowed around us and her parents indulged in special beverages of the aged and single malted variety . . .
she likes the big black taxis that her whole stroller fits into, and the double decker buses that rumble their way through the broad streets.
she likes the wind that lifts her nearly off her feet as she collects 'a leaf, anuvver one leaf, ANUVVER one leaf', to take home to her daddy.
and she likes the squirrels that run up to her stroller, hoping to be fed, and that take any food at all straight from your hands - although we didn't tell her the effect of the chocolate coated coffee bean i gave one last night (it was the only food scrap we had - for once a quick whip around under the stroller cushion garnered NOTHING! usually it is good for a half loaf of bread, packet or three of raisins, and a small bag of rice bubbles). he DID sit straight down and start eating it tho, so hopefully the chocolate delight will make up for the caffeine kick that soon ensued.
there's an energy about the place that suits her - shouting voices and loud loud laughter, and piercing looks and smiles from complete strangers. and small muscly bodies packed full of vigour, ready to launch into some physical endeavour.
its almost like she kind of belongs here . . .
we took a walk to 466 St Vincents Terrace last night, where her great grandad used to live. the house has gone, taken down to make way for a road. but it felt right strolling across the piece of ground upon which it originally stood with her in the stroller, wild wind whipping around us, and the lights in the houses glowing dull in the darkening evening. back to one part of where it all started.

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