Friday, September 11, 2009

Hello Scotland - day 4

Day 4: Planes, Trains and Fluff

I hate checkout time. I woke up to the horrible sound of my alarm and peeled a squashed McMuffin off my face. We were like two octogenarians packing up our stuff in silence, nursing our hangovers. We headed to the train station and stocked up on Vitamin Water and snacks for the journey. After nearly missing our train, we were Glasgow-bound for our last day in Scotland.

The first thing we did when we arrived was head to the nearest Starbucks. Once we were full of coffee goodness, we headed off to do a bit of shopping. For some reason, my bag seemed much heavier coming back then it did going over, so we stopped off to dump it in a locker at the next train station we saw, Queen St Station. Wandering around Glasgow is a lot more fun when you're not dragging twice your own weight behind you.

Neil Buchanan is my hero

There was a huge building beside Queen St Station with "Buchanan" written across the top of it, at which point we both screamed "ART ATTACK!" and pointed. (Neil Buchanan presented Art Attack, in case you're wondering) After a lengthy discussion about Art Attack we found yet another Candy Shop (cue singing) and popped in for a look. This particular Candy Shop pawned all the others because this is where we found "Fluff", (and yet no Honey Bears, sad face) for our friend Marie. We screamed so loud people actually left the shop. This is where I bought the world's most painfully sour cherry sweets; so sour we had to sit down on the nearest bench to recover.

While we were recovering from the cheek-numbing sour balls, we realised we'd accidentally sat court side to some action. Some junkie was unconscious outside H&M and there was a crowd of coppers and paramedics around her trying to wake her. Suddenly the street was filled with coffin-dodgers trying to rubber-neck on the action. The second an ambulance showed up the junkie sprang to her feet and ran away. Brilliant.

"You've got a tongue like leather"

After we'd fully recovered from the sour balls we headed into Glasgows answer to the "Irish Life Mall", which was full of shops where you could exchange old jewellry for cash, and one tattoo and piercing place. Cha ching! I got my tongue pierced for a second time and nearly passed out - hardcore, I know. The piercer also told me I had a tongue thicker then leather. Wonderful. Glasgow, although it has a lot more shops then Edinburgh, is full of knacker hang-outs - for example the "£1 emporium". Not your average pound shop, oh no. This place was like a warehouse, which sold everything from pregnancy tests to "Hoes Red Cabbage". Every shelf was covered in signs saying "£1", at the end of every aisle there was a sandwich board saying "£1", there were giant signs hanging from the ceiling with giant "£1's" painted on them. And yet, as we were leaving, I heard some old man shout "how much is this??" at a shop assistant.

The last shop we visited was of course, a Candy Shop, where I nearly fell over a box of candy canes trying to avoid a bloke who turned out not to be my ex, but I gave him a good glaring at anyway. It was at this point we realised we were flat broke and dipped into Debbie's bank account before getting the train to the airport.

"I had those jeans..... when I was 16"

I hate falling asleep on any kind of public transport because I'm terrified I'll be mugged, and I snore like a walrus. Sexy. Unfortunately my hangover got the better of me and I fell asleep, and was rudely awoken by Debbie pressing my nose like a button. Once we got to the airport we headed to Starbucks for some food before we went through. I gummed down some fruit because my tongue was all swollen and Debbie went to town on a panini - once she'd picked off all the olives. I don't think we actually spoke the whole time we were waiting for our flight, we just vegged out on chairs munching on crisps and reading magazines. I think I fell asleep again.

Finally it was time for the worlds most drawn out boarding - it felt like they were letting one person on at a time, and we were last. When we did eventually get moving, some rude woman wearing a pair of jeans I had when I was 16 (stylish! not.) decided she didn't like the look of me and hawked me out of it as we inched along on our way to the plane. She's lucky I was once again dragging twice my own body weight behind me, because I was in no mood.

We were really sad to leave Scotland, because we'd had such a fun holiday, but we were both seriously happy to be going home to our own beds. And I was dying to see my Monkey. Plus my holidays were only starting, I had Electric Picnic to look forward to at the end of the week.

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