Loving Glasgow as it loves me

After a terrible, terrible day of travel (never take EasyJet or RyanAir if you can help it), it was like the clouds parting to see Jan at the airport. I was completely knackered and we went back to her flat for a shower and a wardrobe change, but I did not get a much-needed nap. Jan cooked some fabulous chili and we went Out on the town.

The Polo Lounge used to be an old bank and is as expansive as it is beautiful, in various places gilded and cavernous. I was losing consciousness but was determined to get a second wind. I had forgotten the whole jigger law thing in the UK (maximum 2 ounce pours), so the drinks were expensive but weak. After several mandarin and sodas though, I was starting to wake again. As Jan and I were touring the place, I met a charming man and we really seemed to hit it off. Jan was amazed that I was in Scotland all of three hours before I picked up an American.

As absolutely ecstatic as I was to see Jan, Geordie was holding my attention and eventually Jan gave me a scrap of paper with her address and phone on it and slipped away home (the equivalent of pinning a note to me reading "If found, please return to..." or "Please take care of this bear."). I may have been a horrible guest, but with the enthusiasm and encouragement of my host, I stayed and had a ball. The spell seemed to break for Cinderfella when the bars closed and it was impossible to get a cab. Those that would stop would not take me to the West End (too close? dunno. I had no map and no directions.) Ultimately I found one who would take me back, and I had barely the amount of pounds to get me home (hadn't cashed traveler's checks yet-- just changed what Danish crowns I had at the airport).

Jan, I had forgotten, does not sleep as much as she slips into a coma. Unable to rouse her, one of her flatmates let me in, and I changed into sleep wear, took the throw from her bed, and slept in the living room.

The next day she came into the living room intending to leave me a note and was shocked to find me. She thought I had never come home and already several folks had called. Her mother thought she was a horrible host for losing me, and the rest of the gang just thought I was ho. "Jan's lost Wilson..." was the topic of conversation for the Sunday morning. Generally when I lose something, it's quite smaller.

We had a lovely Sunday dinner at Jan's parents' home in Bearsden. It was quite like I had just stepped back 12 years. They haven't changed a bit, nor the house, and I was awash in nostalgia. I truly love these people and we seem just to pick up where ever we left off. Kim and her husband Callum came up with baby Isolde from Cumbria to see me. (Kim visited me in SF many years back, but I had met neither husband nor child.) All was wonderful. Callum and I hit it off and incessantly chatted the day and dinner away. An attorney who was once in the navy then re-enlisted into the army, he has been active in Iraq and has many American friends. He also loves country music. We spoke of books and history and Harper Valley P.T.A. (and he was suitably impressed to learn I had the gold record on my wall at home.)

While we rode up with brother Douglas and friend Richard (both of whom I had known while here in '92), we drove back in Jan's sweet little Triumph two-seater convertible—named Mrs. Peel. We joined Cat (Jan's girlfriend, who has also visited me in SF) in her new flat just down the street (moved in the day before) for more wine, conversation, and some sleep.

Monday (yesterday) I slipped off to a bank and a coffee shop while Jan took Cat to work and herself for a run. While Sunday brought me the only sunshine I had seen in a week, Monday was back to misty Scottish weather. Jan's very cool and very nice flatmate Remo (Italian from Edinburgh) joined us for a day of touring the city center, shopping, drinking, and eating. Cat joined us after work, then slipped home exhausted. We continued our pub and bar tour after a very Scottish dinner, although Monday is not really any sort of night for nightlife. Back at one of the smaller lounge spaces adjacent to The Polo Lounge we had some fun with the filler DJ (if you have a license for entertainment, you have to provide entertainment every night to keep it)—and doing our best spin-impersonations to the Wonder Woman theme song dance mix. Ultimately, in good Glaswegian fashion, we ended up at "the gay chippie" for chips/fries with vinegar and salt. As delicious and situationally superb as the chips were, I shuddered to learn, when appreciatively boasted by Remo, that they are fried in 100% beef fat. Mmmmm. Good and good for you.

All in all, a great weekend. We are off now to Edinburgh for the day (Remo is driving home to visit his parents and Jan and I will take the train back) and to catch a few acts of the Fringe Festival.

Cherrio.