I parked above Ashton Lane and T came to meet me. I had been a little apprehensive about staying in her student digs as the last time I had visited her room and kitchen were pretty manky.
I need not have worried – she is my daughter after all and had tidied and vacuumed her room as well as cleaned the kitchen. We chatted with her chums and Jack was an instant hit and made himself very much at home.
The Ashoka didn’t disappoint – we chose vegetarian – an Indian vegetable Karahi Bhoona and a European vegetable Persidi. Utterly delicious. We drank a bottle of Chilean Cabernet Sauvignon and chatted easily and amiably.
T has a passion for history and is able to draw on her reading and study to make sense if her world and the wider issues facing us all: the economy, terrorism, poverty and excessive wealth.
Ashton Lane was busy by now and we looked into Vodka Wodka, but as its name suggests it was packed with partygoers on the pull. We headed to Ubiquitous Chip instead and I had a delicious Pincer vodka and low cal Fever Tree tonic. T had a pint of Guiness. A curious choice I thought as my association with Guiness is as a Sunday lunch treat after a big walk. We stood by the fire inhaling the peaty smokey aroma of the charred wood.
I was in the mood for a wee trip down memory lane so we went to Curlers on Byres Rd. It’s strange to go back to a bar nearly 30 years later and to feel completely at ease even though it has almost changed beyond recognition. I have been in once before with Him about 4 years ago but not on a Saturday night.
Another V+T for me and a V+ Coke for T.
While I was waiting to be served I was chatted up by a handsome young man who was obviously on something more that the tequila shots he was buying. He was jittery and effusive about wanting to see me later. I politely declined but gratefully allowed him to pay for my drinks which he insisted on doing . I’m old enough to be your mother I told him. He was 27.
T and I chatted some more before heading back to her house. We sat on her bed and sang while she played her guitar.
I have had such a lovely time in my West End.
West End – a poem
street lights party light cobbles in the rain
high heels short skirts never feeling pain
vodka red wine tequila shots and Coke
long chats big laughs a soothing air of smoke
chitter chatter better banter Glaswegians do it best
right at home familiar haunts
to return I won’t protest
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