To mark the auspicious halfway point in my placement, where better to go than home, on a flying visit lasting less than 48 hours? Probably lots of places, but that won't change the fact that I spent the last weekend in Glasgow: city of my birth, upbringing and education.
Certainly, this weekend had the most objectively-exciting jaunt so far, since I got to go on an aeroplane - surely the apex of excitement. I made sure to invoke Inglis' Law, and enjoyed a quarter-bottle of wine on both legs of the journey. Indeed, the return flight was made even better by persistent turbulence, resulting in the food service being curtailed to a packet of Worcestershire Sauce-flavoured "Pretzel Nuggets", which I was able to offload onto the hungry, beery oaf sitting next to me.
Friday night took me to the Garage, allowing me to dust off my fabled dancing moves in the Attic. As with the previous weekends, the music was pretty good, with the unexpected treat of The Zutons, and The Pixies' Here Comes Your Man. (Purists will note the lack of any songs by The Streets.)
Saturday night was a more relaxed affair, with Matt and Chris, who have thoughtfully provided more detailed synopses of the evening. In a rare lapse of hardcoreness, I had to leave proceedings early, due to bouts of narcolepsy and a longing for a comfortable bed.
The weekend was far too short, and I'd love to have seen more of my friends while I was up - there'll be plenty of time for that when I return in (less than) five weeks' time. Of course, the onanistic haze of a new iPod did curtail it somewhat.
Cheers,
Derek.
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