Our Irish/Scottish Tour II

“Ev ye bit?”
“????”
“Ev ye bk’d?!?”
“Booked, honey, I think he said booked”
“You mean, do we have a reservation?”
“Ach, peepl seperateh byuh commoon lengweg. This way.”
And so went our first interaction with a Glaswegian, the waiter at Andaluz. It was a Spanish tapas bar and became our default first meal as several Scottish pubs we tried said “nae” when they saw Luka. You’re not in Ireland anymore, laddie.

We arrived in Glasgow via a circuitous train route that included one car, one cab, one bus and 4 trains. A direct train from Liverpool to Glasgow is only 3 hours and was booked but as any traveller can tell you, just cuz that’s what you’ve bought and paid for doesn’t mean that’s what you’ll be doing and getting. Work on a section of track just north of London put the entire British rail system into chaos. The papers were full of stories calling for the heads of those responsible and fines in the millions of pounds were mentioned; exactly who was to get the money and who was to pay it wasn’t mentioned. I’ll be checking my mail.

Backing up further, we finished Ireland with a flourish. Our last night in town I went out to the Temple Bar district where, I was told, there’d be music aplenty. And there was. After enjoying a drum group in the street I wandered from cluster to cluster of smokers who gathered round the entrances to the various bars. I found one with Irish sounds and squeezed in. An hour later I squeezed out with the band’s CD in hand. A few pics and a few pints later (another bar, another Irish band) I slid into bed and bid goodnite to Ireland.

We had an early start the next day and crawled into the cab at 5:30AM. A half hour later we joined the longest airport lineup I’ve ever encountered. It was the wrong lineup. We discovered that after we’d been in it for 30 minutes and only when a young headscratching employee started asking people where they were to and getting them sorted.

The flight to John Lennon airport (above us only sky) was quick n’ easy. Sue met us with her son Mick and the five of us and our five bags became a melange of people and packages compressed in her compact car for the journey to Warrington. Back in the land of cheap wine, I filled the vacuum created by Ms. Guiness’ absence with fermented grape juice and the day was spent relaxing with glass in hand.

One night there then onto a train to Liverpool where we were met by Gary, 1st mate to cousin Helena. Poor Gary, he not only got to play chauffeur, he surrendered his bed for the night as he and Helena gave us the honeymoon suite. Thanks, cuz! Helena’s hostessing skills didn’t cease with relinquishing her bed, she laid out a grand feast and invited an assortment of rellies and friends over. Cousin Chris (uncle Adrian’s son) was there as was cousin Pat (uncle Kevin’s daughter) as well as Auntie Eileen and a range of 1st cousins once removed. The next day we’d planned on getting on yet another train for the short trip to Ormskirk where cousin Caroline lives and where we were spending New Year’s but Pat said her and John were going up that way the next day anyway so how ‘bout if they give us a ride? Too cool says I and at 2:00 the next day were were on the M moving north.

Caroline and Peter live in a lovely country house their kids, Lucy, Fiona and James. Luka and James are the same age and instantly began playing and fighting with the energy that only seven year olds possess. I plugged my computer into their internet access and spent the better part of the day trying to post pics on the blog; I’m hoping it’s going to get easier.

The New Year’s party was at a friend’s house and was special because everyone brought their children. I often find myself excluded by virtue of having a child (see first paragraph) and loved the warmth that comes from celebrating special occasions with the whole family. So we rang in the New Year surrounded by friends and family and loved it.

Day two in Ormskirk was a lowkey affair as we weren’t leaving for Scotland til the 2nd and had a day to just hang out. It was a pj day for the Gojevic’s with nothing more than a video at 8 to structure the day. Peter had to work the next day and so we were again saved the bother of training as he drove us to the station for our journey north.

Our first night in Glasgow we strapped on some skates at the winter carnival fair downtown. There’s a carnival in most sizeable towns that include rides and games and they’re always setup in the main square. It’s a UK christmas tradition as are the pantomimes I mentioned in a previous post and what we did the 2nd night. It was, as expected, a raucous vaudvillian affair with corny jokes and glitzy costumes. The story of Cinderella provided the framework for them to do their song and dance numbers and they even squeezed in a gymnast doing her feats of stretch and swing.

Edinburgh is a 1 hour trainride from Glasgow and worth the time. It gave us a chance to see the Scottish countryside and spend a day exploring this beautiful ancient city. A single day, however, didn’t do it justice. We spent almost three hours at the Edinburgh castle, home to the Scottish crown jewels and several tons of history. But it was freaking cold and snow dusted the surrounding hills so on the return to town center we chose indoor seats on the double decker tour bus. The town center had its own carnival in play so while we did skip the rink, Luka insisted on being flung about in subzero temperatures on one of the rides.

Our last night in Glasgow Deb took Luka to a movie and I went looking for live music. The guidebook recommended “King Tut’s Wah Wah Hut” so off I went. As usual, I was twice the age of the oldest person there; you’d think I’d get a senior’s discount or something. To give you an idea of the type of venue and the music, there was a sign beside the stage urging the performers not to attempt crowd surfing. The music was solid rock, competent, even talented and I’m continually impressed with the quantity of talent out there. There’s a touch of sadness to it too. They dream of ‘making it’ and many have the talent to impress but with every city full of wah wah huts... there’s only so much airtime.

I left King Tut’s and drifted in the direction of our hotel but wasn’t surprised to find myself in another bar lured in by the sound of a penny whistle accompanied by harmonica, guitar and drums. This was an older crowd who appreciated the folksier sound. I tapped, I drank, I left with their cd.

And now it’s back to work. Shopping, laundry and four weeks of night shift await.