Two worlds

I reckon the first thing I have to say is: the weather was less troublous than I feared when I wrote about it yesterday, so we got across the water both ways with little more than a bit of bobbing on the return trip. Whew. 

It was time for one of our lunches with my cousin and his wife, a regular date initiated after the last of our older rellies died and we realised we'd not be meeting at funerals until our own. The venue today was actually the first place we met up, and one we keep returning to, though it's changed its name since the first lunch. La Parmigiana became La Lanterna West End; the decor changed from dark to pale; the food remained delicious and very Italian.

As the more geographically aware may have realised, we were in Glasgow. I haven't really spent much time in my native city since the pandemic; we've eaten in a few restaurants but I was aware of feeling slightly strange using the Underground for the first time in three years, as we parked in Buchanan Galleries car park and took the absurdly speedy subway (which is what we always called it) to Kelvinbridge. As I've remarked before on Blip, this was my home territory until we moved to Dunoon; I went to Hillhead Primary and High schools, then to Glasgow University; I taught in Woodside Secondary when it was just east of the University and then, briefly, back in Hillhead. So lunch today was at the heart of the then known universe, and I loved being back.

After two hours of intensive chatting, eating, drinking (I did the drinking - Himself was driving) we were last to leave the restaurant (this usually happens) but enjoyed some Italian banter on the way out. [Me: [i]Ho perduto mio marito...[/i] Man, just entering: È meglio così] It still felt like afternoon at that point, but after the 10 minute underground trip and the walk through Buchanan Galleries it had somehow become evening, and the city streets were lit up with festive sparkles. 

I took the photo above as we walked along the linkway between the Galleries and the car park. I like the two worlds it shows: below is the north of Queen Street station where all the trains emerge, while above is the glass dome of the station roof from the outside, with a bus passing along the road behind it, and the city silhouetted against the southern sky. 

It was hellish getting out of the city - the traffic and some inconveniently-placed roadworks, as well as some wholesale demolition of a block of ... what? I can't remember ... in Bath Street made getting onto the M8 westbound quite a trial. However, once we'd shed all the cars heading to places around Glasgow, and headed into the darker section of the road that leads to Greenock, we were pretty clear of delays and home before it was too late.

Funny, though, how travelling - even as a passenger - and eating and talking can make you sooooo tired!