Dining among memories

Woke to rain and gloom; breakfasted with the blue sky gradually establishing itself; washed up as a sudden fierce wind shook storms of golden leaves across the garden - and sailed over the Firth an hour later with the waves breaking over the bow of the ferry and the sun blinding us as we drove off on the far side... and drove to Glasgow like a couple of meercats, bolt upright to keep under the shadow of the sun visors. 

We were in Glasgow for another of our irregular lunch dates with my cousin and his wife, this time in Chaophraya - my choice, because I'd so enjoyed my visit to its Edinburgh manifestation. The Glasgow restaurant is housed in the former RSAMD - now reincarnated elsewhere as the Royal Conservatoire of Music - a splendid building right in the city centre where in the past I have played in rehearsals for ad hoc orchestras such as the Edinburgh Rehearsal Orchestra and where friends were students. Rather incongruously, the stairs which I chose as the subject of this blip have the names of composers - Brahms, Beethoven etc - embossed on the walls above statues of Thai dancers, and the entrance hall holds a piano and a large carved wooden elephant. We ate in a hall where I have attended a concert, and noticed above us the tiny organ loft in which is now a table for two ...

The food was excellent; the service rather more ramshackle than in my previous experience (the smoke machine for the fantastic smoking cocktails wasn't working either!) and the red chilli fiercer than anything I've ever eaten. We had three courses and two cocktails and staggered out three hours after we'd gone in, to find dusk already settling over Buchanan Street. A fruitless detour to seek shoes for Himself (we have to use these trips to the city) meant we sallied forth into the rush hour traffic, and we were both bug-eyed from staring into the dark and the red tail lights of the drive to the ferry.

We seem to be losing the knack of in-person shopping. Anyone else feel like that?