Peripatetics of the Ubiquitous Era,

Glasgow is the shopping capital of Scotland, I had never been; it’s just too far away (therefore expensive) and I obviously have a slight connection with Embra so I’m always drawn there.

I decided to do Boxing Day sales in Dundee but I never bought any sale items. I don’t buy sales, it’s just the leftover rubbish but I think the need to get in amongst the shops is a relief. The pressure of finding the perfect gift for others is lifted and people are free to waste money on themselves again, hence, chaos ensues, but perhaps I’m being cynical again.

After a day of drudgery, I decided that I would head out into the world again, and to Glasgow on the chance that they might supply me with the clothes of the misshapen giant that I’ve come to think of myself as; no one seems to have my size anywhere else.

I chose to take the train and this would require a change at Haymarket, the online journey planner never alluded to it being so tight. The Fife circle from Kirkcaldy to Edinburgh must be a favourite for the most scenic route in the country; it’s nearly always a pleasure to ride. The queue at the ticket booth stretched onto the street and as the train threatened to depart, the queue all ran at once, with the purchasing of a ticket on board their only hope of departing with this train. Artists had taken the opportunity to set up their canvas on Kinghorn beach, it was a beautiful morning for them, I guess it wasn’t too cold or else they would have just used a camera and went back home for a cuppa.

The connecting train was waiting in Haymarket, I boarded as the doors closed and had to stand all the way to Glasgow Queen’s Street. My first port of call was the tourist information centre where I found a leaflet with a map that was next to no use, I have, however, retained it in the vain hope that it might prove useful the next time I want to climb a munro.

I raided the shops for the usual suspects; cheap, plain things, with no superfluous buttons and zips. The theme was trousers: to replace those that have been lost over the last few months to chemical accidents. By accidents, I mean that my favourite lab partner has spread his corrosive chemicals onto most of the seats in our office, which then go onto react with the backsides of my trousers when I put them in the washing machine. I did try to discuss this with him but he was taking no blame despite his garments having gone a similar way. I bought three new pairs of trousers, a shirt and tie set (not through choice) and a T-shirt.

Buchanan Galleries was quite something for someone from out in the sticks. People float around on criss-crossing escalators – it’s the future. Outside, a crowd gathered to watch some break dancing; such bravery in face of pigeons has to be commended. I finally had to put an end to my spending, I put the foot down, on myself, and headed back to the train station, I had acquired the map just in case I couldn’t find my way back.

After a cup of hot chocolate at Costa, possibly by those demons, Cadbury’s, I was on my way home on the dreary cross-country line. Calamity arose on the connecting train which I joined at Haymarket, it was advertised as the Perth train but it was actually bound for Dundee. I miss these classic Scotrail blunders by using the car to work. The people who actually wanted to go to Perth were due to be lumped onto a bus at Ladybank (two “station stops” after Kirkcaldy), whilst I can only assume that an empty train then headed to Dundee since no one knew the train was for the City of Discovery.

Glasgow may be the place to find things to buy but I need more time in the city to discover its better side. I didn’t exactly feel comfortable in Glasgow, I truly was an alien; my east coast accent was like a fog horn amongst the shoppers, and the place is huge, even for a misshapen giant.