Small girls run the world

...even though they don't make trousers in our size.

Day two in Glasgow marvelling at teenage shopping endurance levels with a brief visit to the Glasgow Museum of Modern Art. MOMA is the kind of place where 85% of the exhibits make you beyond furious at the utter indulgences that are masquerading as a supposed useful or meaningful contribution to society or thought provoking dialogue inducer. But if you scabbard your anger and bite your tongue you can seek out the 15% of exhibit material that completely gets you and that you entitely get. I would include the fantastically detailed and pleasingly large new york-esque 3D modelling of a faded and dying inner city and the smell of the carpentry involved in its making that went with it. Then there was the fantastic capture in pencil on paper of old community haunts long gone, which magically transported you in to the the nooks and crannies of the buildings, their old patrons and the patrons stories of the legendary characters and incidents that took place there, all crammed into one graphic account on paper.

Sad to say farewell to Mel and Georgie and to finish an unusual train ride home when the Perth races ladies got on..Glam Pam and the Sisterhood...man were they drunk as skunks.