Tuesday thoughts for you

Self-Portrait of course. I imagine the shot from the CCTV camera inside that mirror would be identical. 

Alright, let's get this blether[1] going. First. Happy early Canadia Day to you all. Today after work, I left our glass and steel mega-newsroom in the city centre, and was greated with a lovely wall of muggy heat. You really don't expect that when the skies are grey and dreary. Felt like Toronto.

Made dinner, and read a few things. Just got in from a lengthy walk around the West End, pictures and writing, and thought I would sit down and share with you a little. Listening to Bon Iver tonight, looking at pictures, and drinking an endless cup of tea; the same old thing.

Here we go..

A- Can you believe people actually comment on my articles online. Evening Times. Police Museum!
 
B- U2's world tour starts tonight, which can only mean one thing: a few dozen warm-up shows before the boys rock Hampden Park in Glasgow mid-August. See.You.There. As for the band that intends to steal the show as opening act in front of their home town on the night? In speaking to members of Glasvegas last week, they boys and girl could not contain their excitement in speaking of their opportunity to open for U2. They were also pretty stoked for the show they played last weekend. Glastonbury. Check it out below. Guitar player Rab said by the time they had finished their festival dates this summer, opening for U2 would be easy - although I think he's still rehearsing the first thing he will say to the Edge. Side note - It's cool that artists from Scotland are now more often singing in Scottish accents. Exhibit A. (I swear he's speaking English). Exhibit B: Nutini. (I'm pretty sure he's only had a couple beers, and yes, that is a form of English, some call 'Glasweigan').

C - Today for some strange reason I decided to begin writing a lengthy first-person narrative on why I decided to return to Glasgow. In the year of Scottish Homecoming - on the 250th anniversary of the birth or the Baird Robert Burns - I felt it was a good year to retrace some of my heritage. I've always felt compelled by to continue my voyages to Glasgow, and have always felt at home here, even on the first day. Yes, even in the pouring rain, lost and wandering on ancient cobbled streets.Right, want to see what I have so far? It starts by telling the story of my great grandfather.

Hope all the facts are right just now. George Anderson Gibson - born November 28th in 1904. At the age of seven, George entered Quarrier Homes along with brothers James and John at Bridge-of-Weir, Renfrewshire, September 25, 1912. George boarded a ship on the River Clyde (not far from where I live now) and headed for Canada on March 12th 1921, aged 16, with only a small hand-made case of possessions. The rest is history. Pretty much all I have so far. The research continues in my free time.

D - Hey! Give us back our (ancient) marbles. 

 E - Glad I'm not in Toronto just now. This year's Naples. Garbage strike!

F - A whatman? Oh, simple times. Walking with my music! "I managed to create an impromptu shuffle feature simply by holding down 'rewind' and releasing it randomly." Best quote I read all day - ultimate.

G - Training for protests in Japan. Training? Aren't protests supposed to be an eruption of passion and emotion. In France, students flip cars and block the streets outside la Sorbonne, but in Tokyo, students practice their rallying and megaphone skills. Ah, the conformity and mild-manners of the Japanese. H - Bullfighting. My Spanish is improving. I remember being devastated in finding out bull fighting was in the off season when I was in the south of Spain over Christmas a few years back. I know a lot of people are against bullfighting, the whole animal cruelty thing and all, but come on, it's tradition. The bull fighting arenas in Malaga and Sevilla are as elaborate and beautiful as the white and yellow stucco cathedrals. Thanks for sharing this one Uncle John; the pictures are fantastic. Stirring up controversy for the punters, sorry gang.

H - A definition: [1] BLETHER (ble-thir) Dialect, chiefly Scot. ~n. 1. person who catters incessantly; one who babbles on and on (" That wee yin o' yours is an awfy blether getting'"). ~v. 2. to engage in conversation, long-winded or idle talk ( as in " Ah met yer granny doon the toun, we hud a richt guid blether the gither")

- Daniel C.