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The Stone Roses, The Red Cross, The Peddle Polis and 30 minutes in Glasgow!

16/06/2013

I said I would collect my daughter from the Stone Roses gig at Glasgow Green (Glesga Green), she was acting as a first aider with the British Red Cross, so I dutifully turn up at 11am. I thought it was too early as the green was still emptying of the thousands of dedicated fans who seemed to have a cracking night … so I have about 30 mins to kill… plucked the camera from the car and set about looking at the night life that was swirling around looking for buses, taxis and pubs… description of the image after the images…

Some background to the images

I first noticed this lad that was a wee bitty too far gone on the brew… he walked in front of the bus which was going slowly thanks to the crowds. He wandered to the back and pulled open the emergency exit, then tried to climb in… but he was BUSted, the driver passionately refused.

Then I noticed the the “Polis” had brought order to the streets by removing people, my impression was that they were not part of the fan base, however, the phrase most noted from the huckled lad was “Eh, naw Jimmy” (in Scotland if you don’t know someones name and don’t want to ask them, you refer to them as Jimmy. Try it in Glasgow shout Jimmy and watch the number of people that turn around!

The buses provided light and at night everyone talks to everyone else, the first one is the occupants trying to see what the “Polis” were up too.
The other bus shots just show what strangers can do when they meet at night on a bus!

The Peddle Polis… I have to admit I have never heard this before tonight, but the number of lost people who kept asking others where some road or bus could be found that were referred to the “Peddle Polis” was astounding!!!

The last is probably a UK thing but it’s definitely a Scottish thing!
At the end of the night, where a libation has been consumed beyond the ability of the body to keep up (drunk, pissed, arsed, hey-ho’d, blootered, rat arsed, tipsy tae fook etc) there seems an intense desire by the brain, in collusion with the stomach, to seek out and consume a Donner Kebab (an aweful and somewhat strange meat(?) concoction that resembles a ‘keech’ (pronounced keex, the ‘ch’ sounded like the ch in Loch), the Scots for excrement, also known as a shite! Not the Americanism shit). They cut strips off this ‘thing’ put it in pitta bread, pack it with lettuce and onions and cover is in a spicy sauce. I kid you not, there is no way on this great planet that a Kebab of this genus can be eaten sober without spilling the sauce down you.
In olden days (a few years ago), the wrapped this in a sheet of a2 sized paper, just getting to it was a fookin challenge, never mind eating the damned thing, however, we now put them in this packaging that, I’m assured biodegrades in a few years… one wonders!?

Anyway – that’s me 30 mins on London Road at the “Barras” about 11:15 – 11:30 pm – You have to love this place, and I do!!

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