This time last year, I was moving into my fifth flat in Glasgow. I’d lived there since 2006 and had five addresses. The reason I moved so much wasn’t because I’m fickle. It was because two of my five landlords neglected to pay the mortgages on the flats I occupied. And the secure places had lifts that liked to break down when I needed to go to work, or on nights I had tickets for concerts. During one particular breakdown…
I went to an interview type thing today. This involved wearing something that isn’t a sweatshirt and getting on the bus. Now, regular readers will know that I am newish to this city. And not the best with directions. I travel with people so I don’t get lost. I choose not to get lost. I choose to have a PA, or Sarge, with me when I don’t know where I’m going, or even when I do. I do go places…
I met Sarge on his lunch break yesterday. For lunch. It felt quite decadent, eating at a restaurant in the middle of the afternoon, while not being on holiday. I might not be on holiday, but I still don’t know where the hell I am half the time. Geographically/directionally speaking, of course. This isn’t because I’m new to the city. I lived in Glasgow for more than four years, in the same neighbourhood for nearly three of those, and I…
