I’m waiting on a subway train. No longer am I the victim of unreliable bus drivers. Such a relief.
So, I’ve moved to Glasgow’s West End. I have to say, I feel a little more at home here. In close convenience to Oran Mor, where theatre is often accompanied by pies & ales. Tchai Ovna, where I can embrace my inner tea junkie & the Subway, where I can zip from A-B in eight minute intervals – I’m a little more at ease in my surroundings. No more will I slip & slide in the shite adorned streets of Dennistoun. Don’t get me wrong: it’s not the worst place to live. But the transport out there is totally unreliable, all cafes, shops & everywhere else for that matter close at 10pm AND; I wasn’t kidding about the shite. All over the floorings of Dennistonian Streets. People of the East End! What are you feeding your dogs!? Also you owe me four pairs of unsalvagable shoes which were just too immersed in poo…
So! Away from there and over here. Here being the West End. Well, technically here being there, considering my train arrived 3 minutes ago & I’m currently underneath Buchanan Street.
A new start it would seem. Here’s to you! The Best (West).
TTFN,
x
