While trying to leave a shop in Sauchiehall Street I was walking out through the door and a young lady appeared at the door to enter.
Rather than continuing to walk in front of her to get past her which I feel is rude, I backed up to hold the door open for her and allow her to pass me.
In doing so, I backed into an old woman who was standing looking at a shelf display, nearly knocking her over, and in my panic of nearly breaking an old woman’s hip my hand slipped from the door and the door closed back onto the lady battering into her. Once I saw no-one was seriously injured I got out of there as quickly as possible without looking back.
They say that chivalry is dead, well maybe it should be.
Showing posts with label Sauchiehall Street. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Sauchiehall Street. Show all posts
Monday, 6 August 2007
Friday, 3 August 2007
Ned In A Suit
Just minutes after I passed the busker the other day, I was walking up Sauchiehall Street and passed a fire appliance with two fireman at the rear talking, in their full outfits.
In front of me were three guys. One in a suit, light blue shirt, very neat hair. To his left were two neds....trainers, polyester tracky bottoms tucked into their white socks, tracky tops tied round their waists, polo shirts and....caps perched away back on their heads.
At a safe distance from the burly firemen the guy in the suit turns and shouts back over my head...
"Neeeeaaaarrright...cun ye no' find the fire, nnyyeeeeha ha ha ha"...... all delivered in the typical Glaswegian ned's nasal tone.
His two pals in the tracksuits burst into much laughter. Oh yes, hilarious, I thought as I fantasised about beating all three of them senseless with a baseball bat.
I realised that the suited guy was just meeting up with his wee unemployed pals in his lunch hour before heading back to the office where he would immediately drop his nasal vocab and talk properly in front of his colleagues. If only they could see him in his natural habitat.
On closer inspection when passing him my observations were that his "neat" hair was in fact shaved nearly to the bone almost to the top so it resembled a small hat, his suit was a royal blue cheap piece of tat (called a "fashion suit" in the Littlewoods catalogue some years ago with the strange collar, sometimes called in Glasgow, a court suit) and dirty black slip on shoes.
I'm sure his colleagues know exactly what he is.
In front of me were three guys. One in a suit, light blue shirt, very neat hair. To his left were two neds....trainers, polyester tracky bottoms tucked into their white socks, tracky tops tied round their waists, polo shirts and....caps perched away back on their heads.
At a safe distance from the burly firemen the guy in the suit turns and shouts back over my head...
"Neeeeaaaarrright...cun ye no' find the fire, nnyyeeeeha ha ha ha"...... all delivered in the typical Glaswegian ned's nasal tone.
His two pals in the tracksuits burst into much laughter. Oh yes, hilarious, I thought as I fantasised about beating all three of them senseless with a baseball bat.
I realised that the suited guy was just meeting up with his wee unemployed pals in his lunch hour before heading back to the office where he would immediately drop his nasal vocab and talk properly in front of his colleagues. If only they could see him in his natural habitat.
On closer inspection when passing him my observations were that his "neat" hair was in fact shaved nearly to the bone almost to the top so it resembled a small hat, his suit was a royal blue cheap piece of tat (called a "fashion suit" in the Littlewoods catalogue some years ago with the strange collar, sometimes called in Glasgow, a court suit) and dirty black slip on shoes.
I'm sure his colleagues know exactly what he is.
Thursday, 21 June 2007
Pensioner Confused by The Gay
Sauchiehall street, lunchtime.
There’s differing levels of “being gay”. 0 (you’d never know) to 10 (camp as hell), and the guy I was walking towards was about a 7.
He was literally flouncing down the street, chatting on his mobile, in his light flouncy voice, dressed in skinny black jeans, trainers and some shirt which had floaty bits on it. I gave him a little look before my eyes were drawn to the woman behind. A short pensioner.
She may not have seen “one of them gays” before as she was walking behind him staring wide eyed at his flouncing. She was wearing a purple coat, and had a purple rinse through her hair. If you ask me, she looked more gay than him.
There’s differing levels of “being gay”. 0 (you’d never know) to 10 (camp as hell), and the guy I was walking towards was about a 7.
He was literally flouncing down the street, chatting on his mobile, in his light flouncy voice, dressed in skinny black jeans, trainers and some shirt which had floaty bits on it. I gave him a little look before my eyes were drawn to the woman behind. A short pensioner.
She may not have seen “one of them gays” before as she was walking behind him staring wide eyed at his flouncing. She was wearing a purple coat, and had a purple rinse through her hair. If you ask me, she looked more gay than him.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
