Thursday, 14 August 2014

A Commonwealth Cup

Glasgow's beaming. What a show we put on for the Commonwealth; undulating waves of love and cordiality abound, rising with the surging heat of early August.

A squad of us pass the gates of Govan Old when a sharp whistle draws our attention to the other side of the street. Without casting his eyes to left or right, Smudge briskly crosses over. No jacket tonight, his only concession to the heat.
"Did ye see any o the gemmes?" says he.
"Naw, naw, much better view on the telly."
"Aye, ye're right therr Ah'd've been as well styin' hame an'a," says he. 
"Whit tickets did you get?" 
"Jist the boxing, know."
Obviously. Smudge's flat and broken nose attests to his passion. 
"Aye, it wis an experience. Some place that Hydro. Wan visit'll dae me."
He screws up his face, mouth turned down, looking at us sideways,
"Went fur a cuppa tea. The lassie says, 'that's two pound please'. Two pound? says I. Ur ye sure it's no four pound?"
Hahaha we all laugh wryly, shaking our heads.
"Ah nivver made the prices she says"  and he mockingly mimics her huffy tone,
"Och, get tae - Ah says. Efter this, Ah'll no be back."

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