Loose Ends: Coldstream

I love it how a plan comes together. I had come to Coldstream to see the Hibs, not even thinking about Loose Ends or any kind of blogging stuff. Naturally I found a link with the last place, the Bachelors’ Club, through Robert Burns. The poet visited a lot of places in Scotland but it was from Coldstream in May 1787 that Burns set foot in England for the first time, reportedly reciting a few lines for the occasion from ‘The Cotter’s Saturday Night’:

‘O Scotia! my dear, my native soil!
For whom my warmest wish to Heaven is sent,
Long may thy hardy sons of rustic toil
Be blest with health, and peace, and sweet content!’

Fair enough, like. I was walking along to the border anyway, or to the middle of the bridge, when I came across an information board about Burns’s visit to Coldstream. Link found, bish, bash, done. I walked to the middle of the bridge, looked up then down, admiring the sweep of the river in the warm July sunshine then headed to the football.

After the game I sat for a bit in Henderson Park, blessed with a braw viewpoint over the Tweed towards the Cheviots. I thought about possible connections with Coldstream. It sits on the Tweed as do quite a few other fine places like Dryburgh Abbey, Melrose and Peebles. The battle of Flodden happened nearby in 1513 and this could lead me to the Flodden Wall in Edinburgh or indeed back to Stirling Castle where the infant James V would soon be crowned King of Scots. The Hirsel, home of Sir Alec Douglas-Home, could take me to places linked to other Scottish Prime Ministers, Fettes where Tony Blair was educated or North Queensferry where Gordon Brown lives. The stone marking General Monck’s crossing of the Tweed on the way to restoring Charles II in 1660 might take me somewhere linked to Charles or indeed Cromwell, such as the Cromwell Harbour in Dunbar. The fact I was in Coldstream to see Hibs could lead to many Hibee-related places like St. Patrick’s Church in the Cowgate, the Meadows or Easter Road itself.

The Loose Ends series has so far led me to quite a few parts of Scotland, some deliberately planned, others – like Coldstream – not all intended. It has involved a lot of buses, trains and expended shoe leather so far. I’m excited for what happens next in this series for hopefully it will be as spontaneous as this adventure gathering the loose ends, perhaps as Hugh MacDiarmid – a Borderer himself – wrote:

‘By naming them and accepting them, 

Loving them and identifying myself with them, 

Attempt to express the whole’.

Thanks for reading. Another Loose Ends adventure follows next week.

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Streets of Glasgow: London Road

I didn’t walk all the way to London. Or from London, since I started at the eastern end. This walk began at Mount Vernon railway station, which sits neatly at the junction where London Road joins Hamilton Road. I had never been there before, only through it once on the train when it had been diverted through the wilds of Lanarkshire. It was quite suburban as I set off, soon becoming a mixture of prim and proper houses and industrial premises, cranes, pipes and trade stores. I came to some workers tarring the pavement, the smell oddly soothing, the freshly dried stuff soft on my Skechers. A little way after that I came to a roundabout, with a car showroom (one of many on this walk), fast food restaurants which I could smell before I saw them, and a Tattoo Station in what looked like an old railway building. At the other side of the next junction was a sign for a woodland, informing me I had arrived at Auchenshuggle, no less, once a noted public transport terminus and running joke, also very similar to Auchenshoogle, home to The Broons. Absolutely no joke, this was a highlight of my five years of Glasgow living.

There were little hints of countryside in the midst of all this, trees and relative quiet between all the traffic and sprawl. Not much grass, though, due to the heat of recent weeks. At various points there were views to Castlemilk and the Cathkin Braes, wind turbines peeking over the motorway, while the other way there were gaps over waste ground to tower blocks and posh houses right underneath, Glasgow in miniature. I came to the Archdiocese of Glasgow cemetery and remembered something I had been told recently about Roman Catholic churches often being required to be built on side streets, not main streets. More than one sat just off London Road, the sole exception St. Alphonsus Church in the Calton, in the news recently for one of its priests being spat on as an Orange walk passed.

I soon got my first glimpse of Celtic Park, the word Paradise right in front of me, with tenements either side as I looked up the road towards it. A lot of houses were modern but nearer the ground there were more traditional red sandstone tenements, even more towards Bridgeton and town. Some of the streets I passed had Perthshire names, Methven Street, Birnam Street and inevitably given that last one, Macbeth Street. As I came by Celtic Park, I started whistling the Super John McGinn song, since he was still a Hibs player and two bids had been rejected from the lesser green for his services. I just don’t think they understand. My feet were beginning to ache as it had been a very long walk. Celtic Park was at least familiar terrain, well beyond half way and in sight of town. I was sad, though, nearing Bridgeton, that a mural against sectarianism had disappeared since my last trip along that way. That thought came to me as I came into Bridgeton, then moving onto an Edwin Morgan poem ‘King Billy’ as I surveyed the Union Jack bunting. Bridgeton Cross was busy with people and I didn’t linger – I had been in the area earlier at the Glasgow Women’s Library in any case – and I paused to look momentarily at the Scottish royal crest on a tenement above a bookies.

Nearer town I was lagging. In the Calton I looked at the poems and public art, some with quotes from Tom Leonard and Burns, and looked at the back of the Templeton building which was a bit less dramatic than the front facing onto the Green. The Green was still shut as the clearup from Transmt continued, while I passed St. Alphonsus Church with its banners talking of its history. The numbers were getting smaller as I got ever closer to the end point. I regretted once more missing Calton Books but I looked in the window of the music shop, harbouring notions of musical adventures without much in the way of actual talent. I reached Glasgow Cross and that was that, the longest walk in this series and a very varied one, with wide vistas, car showrooms, industrial premises and the usual treats gained by just looking up.

Thanks for reading. This is the thirty eighth Streets of Glasgow post here on Walking Talking. Other nearby streets written about in this series so far include Gallowgate, Duke Street, High Street and Trongate.

Coming soon…

The Walking Talking blog is back from its hiatus and I’ve got a few things ready for the coming weeks. They include a whole load of Streets of Glasgow walks plus some more Loose Ends adventures. I’ve got a few day trips to write up too, including all about the Great Exhibition of the North. Plus the usual blethering posts, one about the snail and the bottle case in Paisley, another about the sensory experience of a busy train, plus one about wallpapers on one’s technological devices which I’ll need to update as I change mine quite regular. Tomorrow night’s is the epic Streets of Glasgow walk along London Road. I was knackered after that one. Anyway, here are some photos from the last few weeks of adventures.

Grey Monument as Worker’s Maypole
Grey’s Monument as Worker’s Maypole
Plug
London Road and Glasgow Cross
Coldstream by the river Tweed
Carlisle and the Bishop’s Stone
The Meadows in the sunshine
Cathkin Park not in the sunshine

Digest: July 2018

July 2018’s Digest comes after another busy month with a few adventures, the return of the football and me now just finished a week’s leave.

Sunday 1st July saw me in Kirkcaldy, a notion just to get on a bus taking me to my favourite art gallery, which had a very fine exhibition of paintings from the Edinburgh School, Anne Redpath, William Gillies and others.

That Saturday took me across an Orange walk onto a train to Dunbar. It was a warm day in my home town and I proceeded to walk for miles and miles, going out across the golf course to Barns Ness lighthouse, a place I had seen frequently on social media photographs recently and from my window in times past. Masochism led me up Doon Hill, written about here, stopping every few yards to wipe sweat from my face, and I looked across Dunbar and the Forth on the way up. I sat at the top for a bit, avoiding a tour group, and looked down towards Torness and St. Abbs Head. My way back into Dunbar took me to Deer Park cemetery, a place of familiar names, relatives, friends and others I’ve known or known of. I sat for a bit under the Prom, looking towards the Bass and scribbling notes in the sunshine. I ended up at Belhaven standing on the beach with my thoughts awhile before I turned back, eventually dining on a chippy by the harbour.

The next day the Hibs were back. Engineering works meant I took the bus to and from the capital, reading along the way the mountaineer Cameron McNeish’s autobiography. From the bus station I undertook a Streets of Glasgow walk on Killermont Street.

That Thursday the Hibs were playing again. On the way to the stadium I walked down through the New Town, an old psychogeographic haunt.

The Friday was my day off and I went to the Glasgow Women’s Library. I had a couple of books to donate plus I had decided to write about the GWL for Loose Ends here on the blog. I ended up joining the library and came away with a book plus pleased to see a Muriel Spark exhibition in progress. I then walked all the way along London Road for Streets of Glasgow, a very long walk but a varied and interesting one. Earlier I took in St. Mary’s Church in the Calton for a future blog post.

A week or so later, I found myself on the bus to Ayr, heading for the Bachelors’ Club in Tarbolton. It was diverting and interesting. The view from the M77 coming back to Glasgow was a major highlight of the day.

The next day I went to Coldstream to watch a Hibs XI rout the locals. On the way I had a few minutes in Berwick – I need to get back there soon – and spent a while wandering around Coldstream between buses. Another Loose Ends post resulted from that walk.

That Thursday Hibs were playing and I went through to Edinburgh a little early on that beautiful sunny day for a walk through the Meadows then Holyrood Park. I ate my fast food watching the ducks and swans in Lochend Park.

The following day I went out on an adventure with my favourite little people around Glasgow on an open top bus.

Sunday 29th was wet and involved a day trip by car, including Dunfermline Carnegie Library and Kirkcaldy Galleries, as well as a walk along the Prom at Portobello and thereafter at Port Seton where we had an unbelievably good fish supper. The nicest weather came when I got back to Glasgow.

I was off the next week and on Tuesday 31st I went to Newcastle via Carlisle. In the hour I had to kill in Carlisle, I made sure I got to the underpass between Tullie House and Carlisle Castle which is a pleasant display of industrial objects and a stone bearing a curse made by the Bishop of Glasgow against the Border Reivers. Newcastle was in the midst of the Great Exhibition of the North and the Grey Monument bore some superb egalitarian slogans. When I discovered that this was part of the Great Exhibition of the North, I was very glad my taxes were going towards it. Better that than Trident. I went over to Gateshead to the Baltic which had two very good exhibitions, one of which was Our Kisses are Petals by Lubaina Himid which featured African-inspired banners with interesting phrases on them. My favourite was ‘Much Silence Has A Mighty Noise’. The other cracking exhibition was Idea Of North which included a mixture of stuff including a display of photographs of people in North Eastern England by various female photographers, a dome talking about sustainable building materials, a poem by Sean O’Brien and WN Herbert, and a display about TyneDeck, a 1960s modernist utopian proposal for the quayside outside the Baltic. Leaving aside my Scottishness bristling against Newcastle being considered ‘north’ (in England, yes, in these islands, goodness no), I liked it a lot. Make sure you get there, if you can.

Anyway, that’s July. August has started fine. I was off work until yesterday. I went on some adventures, did family stuff.

The next post here might be tomorrow, I’m not sure yet. There will definitely be one on Friday, a Streets of Glasgow post, to be precise, featuring London Road. Loose Ends: Coldstream is on Sunday.

Easter Road West has a post tonight about Super John McGinn and his departure to Aston Villa. Tomorrow there will also be a post there with some thoughts about the Motherwell game on Sunday as well as tomorrow night’s Europa League match. A couple of ERW highlights from July are a post about being a Hibs fan living in Glasgow and another about that mighty publication The Wee Red Book.

August involves this blog’s third anniversary. This is the blog’s 492nd post, remarkably. I haven’t quite managed to put my idea for the 500th post into practice, yet. I don’t have long. If anyone has any ideas or suggestions for future posts, please feel free to share them.

Thanks as ever to all readers, commenters and followers. It’s been quite a ride so far. Cheers just now. Enjoy the rest of your August.

Posts this month –

Loose Ends: National Museum of Scotland

Digest: June 2018

Daisies

Subway Surface: St. Enoch-Kinning Park

Loose Ends: Dunfermline

My favourite bench

Doon Hill

Subway Surface: Kinning Park-Govan

Loose Ends: Abbotsford

Gallimaufry

Subway journey

Streets of Glasgow: Drury Street

Loose Ends: Glasgow Women’s Library

The Joyful Kilmarnock Blues

Travelling books

Streets of Glasgow: Killermont Street

Loose Ends: Bachelors’ Club

Loose Ends: Bachelors’ Club

The last Loose Ends adventure to the Glasgow Women’s Library gave a lot of scope for planning the next connection. I had considered the Scottish Poetry Library in Edinburgh or even the mighty Mitchell but in the end I decided to go somewhere new, finding myself on the bus down to Ayr. That it was the anniversary of the death of Robert Burns was all the more reason to make the link from the Jean Armour block in the GWL to her husband. There is of course a panoply of places in Ayrshire connected in some way to Burns though a mixture of curiosity and bus timetables led me to the Bachelors’ Club in Tarbolton. Once I figured out how to properly pronounce the name of Tarbolton for the bus driver’s benefit (‘Tarbol’n’, if you’re interested, with a silent ‘t’), I was on the way, on a surprisingly busy Saturday afternoon bus, not entirely sure where I was going as I passed suburbs and rolling fields.

The Bachelors’ Club was a debating society that met in the top floor of an ale house. Tarbolton was a weaving village that became a mining village more recently. Robert Burns lived in the Tarbolton area from 1777 to 1784 and he was a key member of the Bachelors’ Club, also becoming a Freemason in the very same building. Today it is a small museum tended by the National Trust for Scotland with two rooms. After the introductory spiel, I looked around the lower room which had been various things including a private dwelling, pub and spirit house. It was done up as it might have been in Burns’ time with a table of suitably antiquated objects including a time piece used by finding the Plough in the night sky, and a washing board.

Upstairs there was a room all done up to look old. It had a book case including a complete set of the Scottish National Dictionary and a few editions of Burns’ work, most notably the Scottish Musical Museum, which Burns was involved with. There was also an interesting Bible, once owner of the building in the late 18th century, and a display about Burns and freemasonry including a drawing of the bard suitably attired. At this point I ended up blethering to the attendant about the place and much else besides until I had to leave for the bus back to Ayr and eventually Glasgow.

To the connections and going to the Bachelors’ Club could take me to Kilmarnock due to another Burns connection or indeed the name of its main library and museum, the Dick Institute, if you want to be crude as of course I might. To be fair Burns often was. A nearby NTS sign suggested a trip to Dundonald Castle, another past possible connection. A chance conversation I became part of threw up the Britannia Panopticon and the Glasgow Police Museum, both back in the Dear Green Place. There are, of course, also many properties across the land managed by the National Trust for Scotland. The Bachelors’ Club is one of the more modest NTS places but the interest value far exceeds its size. One for the connoisseur, maybe, certainly for the dedicated if travelling by bus, but no worse for that.

Thanks for reading. Another Loose Ends adventure, alas not to the Dick Institute, follows in two weeks time.

The Walking Talking and Easter Road West blogs will be taking a break until Wednesday 8th August as I will be off on leave for the next few days. Thanks as ever to all readers and followers.

Streets of Glasgow: Killermont Street

I had just come back. As the bus pulled into Buchanan Bus Station, I had a notion to do a Streets walk, now a rare pleasure rather than an obligation fitted one after the other, and along Killermont Street, just outside the bus station leading from North Hanover Street to the junction of Renfrew Street and West Nile Street. I figured I could at least write about the buses and the Royal Concert Hall, even the popcorn smell from the nearby cinema that I had smelled earlier in the day.

Killermont Street is short. A few paces would do it. What I had forgotten was how it’s actually a pleasant tree-lined street, particularly on the bus station side. There I crossed the road between buses, making sure I got a picture of the Caution Buses sign, too late for many journeys in my experience. I also liked the upside down road sign left leaning on a dark bus station wall. How would people in the thereabouts get to George Square, Townhead or Springburn? I suspect it had been knocked doon at some point in the recent past. That bit of the street was quite boxy and modern, nowhere near like the railway station that once stood there, John Lewis and the Buchanan Galleries car park next to the RSNO and the concert hall. The concert hall with its pillars fits in really well on this quite architecturally diverse street with all sorts of shapes thrown, rounded hat sweeps, sharp points of car parks and student halls, clocks with legs emanating out, plus a grass wall just plonked in the middle of the pavement.

What I love about Glasgow is looking up. Killermont Street is a cracking place to do that. When I come out of the bus station, usually fresh from an adventure somewhere non-urban, I always get a wee rush of excitement at being home, with the people, buses, noises and high buildings a weirdly satisfying sort of overload. It is one of my favourite streets in Glasgow and one of the nicest Streets walks, however brief it was, since I hadn’t properly appreciated the blur of angles and shapes possible to see when looking up in a place at once a beginning and ending place of adventures, for once an adventure in itself.

Thanks for reading. This is the thirty seventh Streets of Glasgow post on Walking Talking. Other nearby streets included in this series before include West Nile Street, Buchanan Street, George Square and Sauchiehall Street.

Travelling books

As written about here previously, I do a lot of reading when I’m travelling and particularly when I’m travelling to the football. Don’t worry, this isn’t going to be a football post – see Easter Road West for that, there’s a post tonight about Simon Murray, Hibs in Europe and why Scottish football is all right. This will be all about books.

The season is not old. I have only seen Hibs play three times so far, the fourth being tonight against Asteris Tripolis. My reading matter has consisted of three books, two by women and two also library books. The first was There’s Always The Hills, the autobiography of mountaineer and writer Cameron McNeish. That hit the spot. He writes incredibly well about most things but reading McNeish makes you want to go up a mountain or just for a long walk. His perspective on the world, sustainable development and on our country’s remaining wild places is refreshing and impassioned, not at all a bad thing, plus he writes about places I know (he grew up not far from where I live) and a lot of writers I like (John Muir, Nan Shepherd, amongst others). That was read on the bus to and from Edinburgh since there was engineering works on the train line the day Hibs played Blackburn for Paul Hanlon’s testimonial.

I took The Comforters by Muriel Spark to the Runavik game the following Thursday at Easter Road. The Comforters is Spark’s first novel, published in 1957. It was quite beguiling, full of well-drawn characters, characteristic turns of phrase and lots to make one pause. It wasn’t as accomplished as some of Spark’s later books but it worked, it was fine.

For the trip to Coldstream last Sunday to see a Hibs XI, I read A Place Apart by Dervla Murphy, based on a friend’s recommendation and borrowed from the Glasgow Women’s Library. It was a short book, a paperback of 300 pages or so, but full of depth. The book is about Dervla Murphy’s journeys around Northern Ireland at the height of the Troubles, visiting and meeting with people from the Protestant and Catholic communities. Despite being written in 1978, a lot of what she writes about is very relevant to Northern Ireland and the wider world today. I have already raided the library for all of our Dervla Murphy stock, I will be visiting the GWL for much of the rest. We need people like Dervla Murphy in our world.

Tonight’s book is Bloody Scotland, an anthology of Scottish crime writers writing about historical places, published last year by Historic Environment Scotland. So far I have read the first three stories, by Lin Anderson, Val McDermid and ES Thomson, the latter particularly sticking in my mind as a gory tale set amidst the whirring machines of Stanley Mill in Perthshire. That one is another library book, incidentally. Occupational hazard.

I did think about taking a Muriel Spark book. I bought a pile of them a few months ago on a killing time mission in Waterstones at Braehead and have two left, The Mandelbaum Gate and Memento Mori. They will come with me at some point but I also have Dervla Murphy books to read, plus a Peter May crime book that I’ve had for weeks and weeks, and the Stuart Maconie book following in the footsteps of the Jarrow marchers that’s sitting in my locker at work. Luckily I have time off looming on the horizon.

I am incapable of going anywhere without something to read. Sitting on a train is especially hard. I have even been known to read some of my book before the game, sitting in my seat, as I did with both Cameron McNeish and Muriel Spark. Last season I went through a few Muriel Spark books plus crime novels (I seem to remember having a Stuart MacBride one game) and not a few nature books including Nan Shepherd and John Muir. As much as I look forward to the books, they are an added bonus to the main reason for the journey, the game. That’s the main thing.

Thanks for reading. As I said, Easter Road West has a post tonight too. Tomorrow night’s Walking Talking post is a Streets of Glasgow walk along Killermont Street.

The Joyful Kilmarnock Blues

I’ve written here before about the Proclaimers, the greatest band in the world, bar none. Sunshine on Leith is my favourite song but there are many other very fine songs in the Proclaimers’ back catalogue, far beyond ‘I’m On My Way’, ‘Letter From America’ and ‘I’m Gonna Be (500 Miles)’. One of the best is ‘The Joyful Kilmarnock Blues’, from the first album ‘This Is The Story’. It’s a story song about hitching sixty miles to Kilmarnock to see Hibernian play, the journey back involving walking through the country ‘on a night when I can see with my eyes shut’. The couple of times I’ve seen the Proclaimers play, they’ve closed with it and it’s amazing live, acoustic and rousing. I remember walking along Gordon Street in Glasgow singing it last time. Not for the first time and not the last. When I’m in a good mood, most recently walking home from the bus stop after work and tramping along a seaside path, it’s often the song I reach for, particularly the verse:

‘The question doesn’t matter

The answer’s always ‘aye’

The best view of all

Is where the land meets the sky’.

Be it the seaside or crossing the Lanarkshire countryside home from Kilmarnock, that’s definitely the best view, where the land meets the sky.

Loose Ends: Glasgow Women’s Library

The last instalment of Loose Ends took me to Abbotsford, Sir Walter Scott’s house in the Borders countryside. The library was the connection that led me back to Glasgow and the Glasgow Women’s Library. I’ve been there a couple of times before, I’ve even written about it before and the GWL has been on my radar over the last few weeks owing to their technically unsuccessful campaign to be anointed Art Fund Museum of the Year. Their ‘It’s For Me’ flag flew outside the door and I was pleased to see a display of Muriel Spark’s books produced by students from Glasgow School of Art. This was right up my alley – see here for a post from last year about Muriel Spark – and ironic since I was donating one of Spark’s books to the library. I particularly liked the Public Image cover which was reflective but not totally, probably appropriate for how the public image can wildly differ from the reality. The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie one was also good, quite 1930s Bauhaus. The prints were great, including the wonderful ‘PISSEUR!’ taken from A Far Cry From Kensington, printed in block capitals.

I had a good browse around the library, severely tempted by several titles on the shelves. I almost had a few poetry volumes until I remembered how big my to-read pile is, eventually settling for a book by Dervla Murphy inspired by a recommendation from a friend a few weeks ago.

Libraries are incredibly good places to find connections, even better than the Internet for lateral thinking. The GWL on this particular day could lead me back to Edinburgh since that’s where Muriel Spark was born and where The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie was set. The capital could also take me to the Scottish Parliament, a link because of the Nicola Sturgeon block in the politics section. The Jean Armour block in the poetry section could take me to any of the myriad places linked to Robert Burns, Armour’s husband, perhaps to Ayrshire or to the Burns Room at the Mitchell Library.

I never met a library I didn’t like. The GWL I love. It is a place of light in a world of darkness, particularly as I visited on the day Donald Trump came to Scotland. We need the GWL and I am proud that it’s here in Glasgow, doing good work in its community or communities to be precise. The GWL is a microcosm of what Glasgow means to me, not just new knowledge but containing vast reaches of life and experience, venturing forth to share it now and then for the benefit of all.

Thanks for reading. The next instalment of Loose Ends follows next week.

In the lead up to the 500th post, which will be in a few weeks, I’m opening this up to suggestions. If anyone has any ideas for a future post or even a Streets of Glasgow walk, please do share them. Incidentally, I already have an idea for the five hundredth post. It’s not five hundred miles.

Streets of Glasgow: Drury Street

Drury Street was a good spur-of-the-moment walk, a chance glance up West Nile Street to a street I had never been on before. Drury Street made me think of Drury Lane, a place with theatres, I think, somewhere in London’s West End. The Weegie version just has pubs and some half-decent architecture, brief as barely a couple of minutes covered the length but no less interesting for the handful of footsteps it took. I looked up and saw some interesting Greek touches, ruffles and crests atop and around the building above the Patisserie Valerie. The Yes bar was somewhere I was vaguely aware of, as also the Horseshoe Bar which has been recommended to me more than once. I heard live music from the Horseshoe and the only people stood in the street were pub bouncers and the occasional fly smoker. The flags of World Cup nations, noticeably not including our southern neighbours, flew in pub windows. I stood at the Renfield Street end and looked back, enjoying the curling street lamps, golden city buildings and a generic office block up the far end. It might have been two minutes but it was enough to see something interesting, put names to places and walk once more with my head in the skyline.

Thanks for reading. This is the thirty sixth post in the Streets of Glasgow series here on Walking Talking. Nearby streets covered in this series previously include West Nile Street, Renfield Street, Gordon Street and Mitchell Street.

In the lead up to the 500th post, which will be in a few weeks, I’m opening this up to suggestions. If anyone has any ideas for a future post or even a Streets of Glasgow walk, please do share them. Incidentally, I already have an idea for the five hundredth post. It’s not five hundred miles.

Also, my other blog Easter Road West had a post last night about being a Glaswegian Hibs fan. Have a read.