Yesterday I had a nice little event in Bearsden library. Lovely audience, good questions, great turnout. The preceding few hours were a bit fraught, starting off with the faithful PA who decided for some reason best known to herself to have excruciating toothache and had to be off work so the dentist could drill her root canal. She did say that work was preferable to that. But only just.
It must have been a full moon or something, lots of people just doing and saying things that made me think I live in a parallel universe.
Great place to have an event
“Oh I wish my hair was as long as yours.”
“So why not grow it then?”
“It won’t grow that long.”
“I keep getting it cut.”
Trust me, I'm a doctor...
OK then…. She must have been a friend of Mr “These exercises you gave me don’t work.”
“Did you do them?”
“No. And the painkillers the doc gave me are useless.”
“Are you taking them?”
“Because they don’t work.”
“So have you tried them before?”
“So how do you know they don’t work?”
“Because my leg still hurts.”
“But you are not taking them….”
The last lady was telling me a story of her outrage when she went into a cafe at five past four to be told that they close at four… as it says on the sign. She was outraged and staged a sit in, so they gave her a coffee and then proceeded to mop the floor around her and put chairs up on the tables. She stayed there. Feeling uncomfortable but glad that she had made her point. Whatever that point was.
Then I was on the train to Glasgow central… just jumped on in time but the train was going nowhere as the ticket man was telling a blonde that the fare was four pounds twenty.
“But I don’t have it.”
“So why are you on the train then?”
“Because I need to go to Glasgow”
“But you need to pay to use the train so you need to give me the money.”
“I’ll pay double next time.”
“Do you know how often I hear that?”
“Gonnae give me the money?” she asked the man sitting opposite.
“Have a wee bit of faith,” he said to the ticket man.
“I have plenty of faith, it’s a wee bit of cash I am after!”
I have a dirty hand, I need my handwashing scene now. It's in the contract.
But then I got home to watch Whitechapel, all flesh eating zombies and cops working in a station where health and safety have never, ever looked at the lecky. And the world suddenly made sense again.