Thursday, 16 September 2010

A Mighty Rushing Wind

There's a rushing wind through the streets of Govan, just like the day of Pentecost, and the light lifts and falls between brightness and shadow as clouds scud across the sky.

Up the road in Bellahouston Park, the priests are processing and the Catholic crowds are amassed to hear the address of Pope Benedict XVI and listen to the choirs and Susan Boyle sing.

Down in the heart of the tenements, it's as though Summer is snatching a last wild breath of life after a dreich week of autumnal weather.

Out in the back courts, a wee gang of children are playing at tig. They are racing up and over the middens, jumping and chasing, running as fast as they can to get away from whoever's het. I don't think any of them are Scottish children, by the look and sound of them.

Wednesday, 15 September 2010

Souvenirs Of The Season

Passing the card shop on Govan Road, I think about the lack of celebrations and reasons to send greetings over the past coupla months. Stock trade of the summer must be birthdays, anniversary wishes or on your wedding days.
Next up will be Hallowe'en, but what's this?
Eid? "Eid Cards For Sale" reads the day-glo green sign.

I take a look inside but there's no sign of the cards. I'm sure it was last week, the boy from the Asmaan told me it was Eid last Friday, the 10th. Just another case of the sign not being taken down from the door.

I walk about a bit, look at the cards and stuff and don't want to walk out without buying anything, so I think - hey, what about the Pope's visit tomorrow. He's coming to Bellahouston Park, so what about a bit of memorabilia for my lapsed Catholic pal fae Wishaw.

The Pakistani shopkeeper and two older ladies are sitting behind the counter.
I ask if they have any souvenirs for the Pope's visit. The owner looks to his wife. She's shaking her head, no, no dear.
"Are you going? Going to see the Pope?" they ask in their Asian-Glasgow tones.
"No, not me," I say.
"How no'?" they respond.
"Not a Catholic - just wanted to get something for my friend. Remember the last time he came there was lots of stuff in the shops - like pictures and mugs and stuff."
"Aye, that's right enough. No' this time though," says the lady, "Nothin in the market this time."
"Wonder how that is?" I muse and have a last look down the shop and up on the walls to see if I might have missed a wee picture of His Holiness gazing down at me.

Sunday, 5 September 2010

Movie Magic

We're sittin and Nat fae Howat Street just happens to mention how he was walking past the Lyceum today and he saw the metal grills open and men taking cinema seats out and loading them into a van.
"Whit?" I shout excitedly.
He gets a fright and wonders what he should tell me when I start pressing him for full information.

"It was Pakistanis. They had a van and they were carrying seats out to it."
"And could you see inside the Lyceum?"
"No, not really. Just down a dark corridor."
"A-ha, but there was a corridor - and what could you see down it?"
"Nothing, it was dark."
"Yes, but there must be some kind of hall behind the front of the cinema - for them to keep the seats in. And were the seats red velvet?"
"Em, yeah, they were."

Just what is going on here?