So I invited some friends round for a barbecue. Ross, Rachel, the whole gang.
What a fascinating bunch they are, my pals. They are architects or freelance graphic designers or work in marketing. One has an online cupcake business, another runs regular spoon carving workshops.
One of them, God forbid, is a blogger. The rest are changemakers and upcyclists.
They’re contractors, digital nomads even, so they cycle crosstown every morning to their co-working space where they stare into their laptops, maybe grab an Uber Eats for lunch, while devising unexpected solutions to creative challenges.
At the end of the working day they go home and lie down and close their eyes and start banging their heads on the floor and crying uncontrollably until they fall asleep.
But the barbecue went well.
After the cauliflower waffles and pulled jackfruit I drank
ten cans and passed out next to a bin bag on the stairs.
Woke up the next morning and started wondering what it
would take to become a better person.
Within a few blocks in Govanhill are the Victoria Bar,
McNeill’s and the Queen’s Park Café, all pubs once owned by former Celtic
The Green Mile it was called, back in the day, not that long
Fearsome left back Jim Brogan at one end, chunky bubble
permed Benny Rooney at the other, and in between is Billy McNeill.
Yes, really. It’s Billy McNeill. Caesar. And not only is he pouring you a pint but he’s asking if you were at the game, lads, and you’re awestruck and you almost reply, yes sir, because it’s Billy McNeill, it’s really him, and you’re in his pub and he’s handing you a drink and smiling at you. It’s Billy McNeill.
Here’s Billy leading some of his mates out for a kickabout at Queen’s Park recs.
Emerald green is God’s favourite colour, and that’s a
The mythical origins, the noble traditions, the legendary
commitment to truth and beauty.
Sat in the flat the other night watching a BBC4 documentary about the Byzantine empire. Or was it astronomy? Might have been about trains or something. And there was probably a guy with a ponytail in a recording studio.
But then this place, the Queens Café on Victoria Road, showed up in the next programme, about Primal Scream.
Bobby Gillespie grew up in the south side and here he was having a conversation with pop Svengali Alan McGee in this very café.
Got bored with what they were talking about, started
thinking about the café instead, old fashioned décor, delicious coffee, best
ice cream in the city, yum.
Like most rock stars, all Bobby Gillespie really has is his