The Gyp

Amsterdam

2007-01-10T19:12:00.001Z

Often the journey to a destination is worthy of a mention but this time I shall skip by the early rise, the drive through to Ingliston in the dark and the entirely perfunctory flight. They just happened before my brain was awake enough of take notice of anything. I would however like to thank Clairwil's dad for driving us through at such an ungodly hour. I'm sure the bus journey's involved wouldn't have done us any harm, but it was great to get under way with only our check in to contend with. Flying isn't really my bag, though I do like the take off/landing. All that bumping about at thirty odd thousand feet you can keep though......

We took off in murky conditions and landed in the same. We then proceeded to get the wrong train from Schipol. A rather kind conductor let us know before we found ourselves in Vladivostok and pointed us in the right direction. She even marked our tickets in Dutch lest we encounter a more pedantic ticket puncher on the train back and incur a fine (thirty Euros being the going rate)

The Ibis was our first port of call in Amsterdam and to the relief of my not yet aching shoulders the hotel was mere yards away. Anyway, all booked in and having examined our digs, Clairwil and I set about a bit of mild exploring.......

The first thing you notice about Amsterdam is the traffic. Five lanes of it. Bicycles, then cars, then trams, then cars and bikes again. I was almost mown down by cyclists on a number of occasions and at least once unwittingly played chicken with a tram. We get very casual about our traffic signals in Britain but a tourist in a major Dutch city can very easily end up as roadkill by not adjusting themselves to the new environment and using the crossings. Part of the fun I reckon......

A wander through the side streets took us to the rather huge and impressive Dam Square. Cue the statue 'artists' (go on, punch them in the nuts for me!) and an old lad playing what looked like a Glockenspiel. I liked him, he seemed to be battling the odds and the elements with a determination I rarely see from any Glasgow buskers (punch them in the nuts too if you want) We soon found ourselves in a busy little bar and got some much needed food and drink. The seats we'd landed in were in a small conservatory in front of the main bar and afforded us an excellent view of the Amsterdam rush hour. Trams, cars, bikes and pedestrians gliding around each other like chaotic clockwork in the dimming light. I'll admit I've never been one for watching the world go by but I'd have happily stayed for the rest of the evening.

A pleasant Indian meal was followed by a jaunt around some local bars. We eventually stumbled across a small pub across from the hotel, the name of which evades me at this moment in time. It was run by a portly and slightly offhand gent who nonetheless patiently put up with my inept pronunciation with regard to the local beers. Clairwil directed my attention to the floor and asked if it was really sawdust on the floor. It looked to be. Failing that the cleaner hadn't turned up for a good week or so. That said, it was probably the best pub we were in throughout the whole week.

Day two in Amsterdam should have been one tackled with vigour and enthusiasm. It wasn't. Certainly not on my part. I awoke with sore legs and arms and a throat that felt like it had been scoured with a brillo pad. Theoretically I should have called off on it but since it was to be our only full day in the city, I think I made the right decision. A hearty breakfast across the road from the hotel and we were off. Our aim was the Museumplein and possibly Vondelpark. We wandered for a while in the general direction of our destination before becoming a smidge lost. We soon regained our bearings and found what we were looking for. At first we marvelled at the wonderful outdoor skating rink. Every so often a tractor would appear to smooth the ice and of course the local kids used this as a way to drag themselves around the rink for no extra effort on their part. In Glasgow the tractor would have been driven by an officious, red faced wee man shouting at the kids to "get away from the vehicle". The bloke on the tractor in this instance seemed unperturbed by the tomfoolery and just got on with it. He obviously realised the young 'uns knew their arses from their elbows and were perfectly capable of taking care of themselves.

An hour or so was spent wandering about looking for somewhere to put our feet up and have a few drinks. We somehow ended up in a completely dry part of the city. Nothing but expensive clothes shops and well heeled types in Chelsea Tractors. After a quick coffee in a posh hotel bar (very good it was too) I headed off to the Van Gogh museum whilst Clairwil retired to a nearby pub we had belatedly spotted. She had been to the museum twice before and saw little point in accompanying my man-flu ridden carcass on a third visit. The museum was mobbed and I wasn't really in a mood to fight my way through the hordes to get at the main attractions. I wandered up into the two other upstairs galleries which were less crowded. The old smoking skull painting was rather jolly. Not a patch on the bizarre self portraits that resided in the basement area though. I was also pleased to see a few Egon Scheile paintings.

I purchased a book of Cartier Breson photographs and made my way back to the pub Clairwil was ensconced in. By this point I had decided the best thing for my miseries was plenty walking, plenty beer and a good meal. One down two to go, eh? We found ourselves in a series of little back streets just off a nearby square and much to our bemusement found ourselves knee deep in restaurants and bars. A quick stop in another Irish bar was followed by a proper hunt for a place to eat. We eventually settled on a wee Italian restaurant with a bizarre looking water feature plonked in the middle of the floor and a huge but slightly grubby looking goldfish tank at the back. Fine pizzas though. Because of the concentration of restaurants in the area, some of the establishments seem to feel the need to employ someone to stand outside and 'woo' the customers. You know, all that "We have one table madam, just for you" stuff. We decided that frankly they could go and get stuffed and that there must be a good reason why they feel the need to have someone accosting pedestrians to drum up business.

We got lost for a bit on the way back, then missed the canal boat that would have taken us back to the hotel. Never mind, a few more drinks in the 'Aran' Irish bar and a quick look at what the guide books had to say about the trams and we were off again. Of course, the Ill Man, being a tediously cautious type wasn't sure. How does one pay? Do we need a 'Stippencarte'? What if they fine us for transgressing some bizarre Dutch public transport custom?

Clairwil suggested we just get on and see what happens. A cuff round the ear for yours truly wouldn't have gone amiss. Anyway, we fare dodged our way back. We got on a side door in the packed tram and nobody came for our cash. Yay! Celebrated with a drink at the little sawdust bar near the hotel. The Amstel Bock and the 'Wieckse Witte' being our drinks of choice.* Back to the hotel then for an exhausted Ill Man and before I dropped off I got the chance to marvel at the wonder that is Dutch late night TV. They seem to have phone sex/contact programmes on in the wee hours. Nowt too racy, though the adverts would certainly raise eyebrows in dear old Blighty. The funniest thing about it was the contact ads which seemed to consist of details of people like 'Dirk from Utrecht' or 'Greta from Zandtvoort Am Zee' and pictures of random porn models obviously chosen to signify nothing other than the sex of the lonely/randy/desperate person in question.

Friday morning was our last in Amsterdam. I got some Nurofen (Sweet Fucking Relief, I tell thee...) and some Strepsils and was right as rain for the rest of the day. We had a delightful little stagger round China Town and stumbled upon a Buddhist Temple that defied belief. Glasgow needs something like that. Hell, every town does. Let's start a campaign kids! Amsterdam needs at least a week to explore it's various nooks and crannies but to be honest, if the two days I spent there are to be my only memory I ever have of the place I shall have no regrets. Wonderful place.

All too quickly we were on the train for Rotterdam though. Another story for another day.

*Take no notice of the real ale snob in this link. Such anal little men I have no time for. That said, we could have done with his pub guide to Rotterdam in hindsight.

Auschwitz

2006-12-22T00:21:00.000Z

Hello,
I've been struggling with this for months. I don't want you to imagine that I've written anything great on the subject because before we begin let me assure you that I haven't. Everything I have to say about that place feels to me like I'm belittling the Holocaust, which is not my intention. This will not be especially articulate either, I'm just writing of my feelings as I walked round.

Let me start by telling you that I skipped parts of Auschwitz. There is not a force on earth that could have taken me into the building where they used to experiment on women, a little near the bone for me and I must say something about the long queue snaking into the building sickened me. An atrocity exhibition for giggling school boys as far as I could see. I think I would have got violent. The whole place makes me queasy. I wonder if it should be demolished and replaced by a memorial. Though I'm sure that would just inflame the deniers. Cunts that they are.

My first impression of Auschwitz was that it is such a mediocre little place. When I first saw the camp I laughed and in that laugh was all the scorn in the world. I expected something big and imposing, instead all I could see was a something with all the soul of a call centre. I have always believed that terrible events leave a horrible atmosphere behind them but in the case of Auschwitz I imagine all the souls that died there have swanned off somewhere more exciting.

Everything about the place is stunted, little and dull. A testament to the banality of evil, a vision of the world if it were run by managers. Having seen Auschwitz I, on an emotional level cannot believe the Holocaust happened. I know that it did but it's like a murder in your local train station in the sense that one thinks 'there -surely not'.

The only moment of light relief was seeing the gallows where the camp commander was hanged after the war. Though that was a grim laugh, in that it was the same gallows where he hanged prisoners. The worst bit for me was standing in the 'ovens' , the rail tracks on the floor brought it home to me how planned the whole thing was. That's where I find my brain is far to small to deal with the Holocaust. Think of the process: someone had the idea, people built the camps, then people were asked to work in them. Did no-one at any stage not realise what they were doing was wicked and evil beyond belief? Who the hell staffed these places?

I can understand a spontaneous massacre born out of rage, even if I don't condone it. What I cannot believe or understand is thousands of people taking part in mass execution where there was every opportunity to pause, reflect and at least opt out.

The line between savagery and civilization is far too thin.

More Krakow Snaps

2006-10-03T22:40:00.000+01:00

Hostile Hoors Krakow Part 3

2006-09-28T22:47:00.000+01:00

After a pleasant stroll through Krakow, I decided to repair to the hotel bar for a nightcap. The hotel's website states 'Friendly, and professional staff will ensure that your stay in Krakow is pleasant and memorable', in fairness the truly remarkable assortment of hoors seated around the bar will live on in my memory even if with one or two notable exceptions they were hardly friendly, to me at any rate.

Imagine your Clairwil strolling into the bar, ordering a big beer, a poke of peanuts and as there were no other seats placing myself at the bar. I struck up a conversation with a Finnish gentleman seated to my right, pleasant enough fellow with a huge moustache. Almost at once I sensed I was the subject of comment from the left of the bar, sure enough a short, fat hoor who I shall refer to as 'Roots' was giving me the finger, egged on by 'Pencil under a wig' and 'Tits of a Goddess'. I am not accustomed to hostility from hoors in fact on the occasions our paths have crossed we have always enjoyed cordial relations.

Eventually Roots waddled over, spilling out her lime green suit and began bawling at me in Polish. It was a tense moment, fight or flight? What to do? I was abroad, an ambassador for Scotland. One wrong move and our international image would lie in tatters. There was only one thing for it, I hopped off my stool and bellowed at Roots something along the lines of this ' I am a Scot, a Glaswegian at that and we move for no-one. No tuppence ha'penny hoor fucks with me, You need your roots done, I need a box, so c'mon outside.' Poor Roots was baffled and returned to her seat. She sent the barman over to question me and having established that I was in fact a harmless tourist and not a new hoor in town, I was left alone.

The Finnish gent was very impressed with my ability to talk a good fight and bought me a drink. That was a good drink more than I should have had. I left the bar, got round the corner, tripped and skint my knee to buggery. The next day I walked for miles down a salt mine, sore knee and all......

Krakow Part Two

2006-09-26T22:49:00.000+01:00

Everything I'd read prior to my arrival in Krakow led me to understand that the food was utterly foul. Maybe I was just lucky but I didn't eat a bad dinner or breakfast the whole time I was there. Lunch was taken on the move and was a bit more mediocre so I shall never mention it again.

For our first evening meal we ate at a wonderful Indian restaurant on Slawkovska. A channa pindi, a vegetable curry, a lentil Dal, two Soups, onion bhajis, three portions of rice, a portion of garlic nan to share and three pints of lager came to a total of £7:50. One can live like a king for next to nothing in Poland, though I'm sure that will change as the EU tightens it's grip. As an aside my late grandmother was convinced that 'common market' sent prices through the roof. I remain convinced it was the shock of that and then Thatcher being elected that killed her.

After dinner we took a stroll through town and had the pleasure of making the acquaintance of a cat by the name of Mr Hippolyte. He was a rather distinguished black and white beastie who we found sitting at his own table outside a cafe. A man who seemed to be employed by Mr Hippolyte to lure tourists into their gallery invited us in as 'honoured Scottish guests'. I was quite touched, I am more used to people making bad jokes and calling you a drunk when they find out you're Scottish, though in fairness that does seem to be confined to the U.K. Anyway the man reckoned that the Polish people are in the debt of the Scots because our government is very good to them. I was too stunned to ask what on earth he was alluding to. Other than the occasional belly laugh I wasn't aware Scotland's rulers had done much for anyone.

Later that night I went to the hotel bar for a drink........

Krakow Part One

2006-09-26T01:52:00.000+01:00

I have my shoes in one hand, my bag in the other and I'm sure that policeman is pointing that gun at me. If you've ever wondered whether or not airports could get any worse, the answer is a resounding yes. If anyone clever is reading would they mind awfully inventing a high speed boat or something so I could avoid the airport altogether.

However I won't dwell on the horror of Edinburgh airport any longer, it's just too upsetting. Fast forward a few hours and I am in Poland. I was horrified to find that the toilet paper dispensers in the airport appear to have been filled with a cross between recycled newspaper and tracing paper. Apparently they used to have the effrontery to charge you by the sheet for this rubbish but have since abandoned that scam. Progress of sorts.

We were collected at the airport by a quiet gentleman of suicidal appearance. My fears regarding his state of mind were not entirely unfounded it seems. The man drove like a drunk stuntman along a series of narrow roads and most hair raising of all, accross a railway track that some drawing board maniac had plonked in the middle of the road. I'm happy to say that our driver didn't take any risks with red lights though less so to report that there were in fact no travel signals in evidence at all. Mercifully the trains didn't seem to be running and we crossed the track unharmed.

After a few hours sleep we get up for breakfast only to be confronted with perhaps the most terrifying, old bag I've ever had the misfortune to meet in my life. I'm struggling how to describe her, the best I can come up with is angry Tory lady of a certain age. I could barely eat my breakfast for staring in total disbelief of this woman's constant complaints to the staff. She sent no less than six pots of tea back because she reckoned they weren't 'boiling hot'. The poor staff were baffled by her regular cry of boiling hot, possibly because she was bellowing at them in English rather than trying a bit of phrasebook Polish. Finally a 'boiling hot' pot of tea arrived only to be rejected because it wasn't 'English tea'. The pot was taken away, whether it was filled with English tea or just taken out and brought back in I cannot say. I must confess I became distracted as she started sending jugs of milk back for not being cold enough. At this point her friend, who looked embarrassed enough to crawl under a rabbit raised the possibility that the staff didn't understand her endless demands. This seemed to make the ridiculous old bag very angry indeed 'they understand all right' she replied, presumably in the belief that they all speak English really and just lay on the Polish for the tourists.

After breakfast I was writing my notes about the madwoman and smoking a fag outside the hotel when my blood froze in veins. She was right behind me, I don't mind admitting I was frightened. Fortunately for me she quickly found a Pole to shout at and demand that the souvenier shop be opened for her. Other than overhearing her later in the day telling the receptionist that she would have done well in the SS, I never saw the woman again and I hope I never shall.

More to follow...

Krakow

2006-09-24T13:24:00.000+01:00

More to follow.........

North Berwick Gyp - Views From Berwick Law

2006-09-11T00:08:00.000+01:00

North Berwick Harbour

Bass Rock

Looking across to the west bay and Fife in the distance

Patchwork of fields behind the town.

I'll have a full report up tomorrow night.

Cheers!

Manifesto

2006-07-05T22:37:00.000+01:00

Hello,
For reasons that may or may not become apparent in the fullness of time I want you to send a postcard to P Ryan 2 Blackfriars St G11PE if you've ever secretly thought you should be in charge of the world. On the postcard I'd like to list as few or as many reasons as you like that you and you alone should rule the world. I need your manifestos for something I'm building. You can remain anonymous if you like......

Stirling- My Version of Events.......

2006-06-23T20:30:00.000+01:00

Hello,
I realise this all old news and the illman did all this weeks ago but better late than never. So here goes. Let me begin by declaring that I love Stirling, if I could find a job there I'd move in a flash. It's a wonderful city, surrounded by countryside so beautiful one doesn't know whether to dance or weep or both.

We left Glasgow on a warm but overcast day only to arrive in Stirling to glorious sunshine. I immediately regretted neglecting to bring sunscreen and got a wee bit burnt. Like many Celts I go straight from brilliant white to lobster red at the merest suggestion of sunshine.

Upon our arrival we started the long climb up Spittal Street and as my ill friend has already told you arrived at the wonderful, gothic Church of The Holy Rude. For anyone with an interest in Scottish history this church is well worth a visit. James VI was crowned here with John Knox doing his stand up routine (preaching) afterwards 1567. The graveyard behind the church is also worth a look. There is musket shot peppering the rear walls of the church. It is believed Cromwell was responsible for this wanton act of vandalism. It doesn't surprise me. It may interest you to know that I live on Glasgow's oldest street and that this fine street is one that Cromwell was too feart to walk down in case the waiting mob got him by the throat. Unfortunately Cowcaddens let the side down and the dour, warty little git got in and wrecked the place. I don't know where Cromwell's remains are but I'd like to dig them up and throw stones at them. I dislike that man intensely.

Anyway to return to the point the graveyard behind The Church of The Holy Rude is a fine place for a stroll. Walk up the hill and have all the fun of vertigo. Honestly I'm not a pansy about heights but the top of that wee hill felt very, very unsafe to me. If you're like me you'll walk down the hill in a stiff frightened way and then pause and gaze at the rather sentimental and rather broken Victorian monument to the Wigtown Martyrs. There is a pyramid in the graveyard which is a monument to the Covenanters, which may be of interest to others. I fear it. Every time I hear the word Calvinist I feel unsettled. The best bit is Mar's Wark the remains of a Renaissance palace started by the Earl of Mar (1570-72) one of James VI's guardians.

We had a wee stoat around the old John Cowane's Hospital, which is now the genealogy centre. I'm very fond of the statue of John Cowane (Auld Staneybreeks), it is the campest thing I've ever seen.

After all that strutting it was pub time. On to The Settle Inn. This pub first came to my attention when someone told me the marvellous and possibly apocryphal story of Robert Burns etching this anti-English poem into the pub window only to wake up in the night take fright at what he'd done and race back round to the pub to smash the offending window. There is something rather endearing about a national icon that has known the feeling 'oh God I didn't did I?' after a few drinks.

Pictures to follow.

Cheerio

More Stirling Photos

2006-06-08T21:42:00.000+01:00

Stirling Railway Station

Stirling Photos

2006-06-04T22:00:00.000+01:00

Stained Glass Window in the Church of the Holy Rude

View from near Stirling Castle across the town to the Wallace Monument

View from church cemetery across to the Trossachs

Musket shot marks in the church wall.

Stirling Gyp pt1

2006-06-04T17:16:00.000+01:00

I nearly didn't make this Gyp. That I did says wonders for the efficiency of Glasgows public transport and my ability to dress, shower and get my shit together in about five minutes flat.

I met Clairwil at 1pm in Queen Street station and we agreed instantly that it would be a rather fine idea to go to Stirling for the afternoon. The weather was rather nice in Glasgow, warm but a little cloudy. By the time we got to Stirling there was barely a cloud in the sky.

Our first stop was the Church of the Holy Rude which lies at the top of a long steady climb up from the town's main shopping street. First of all we had a short stroll through the cemetery to a rather scary little viewpoint. Neither of us are what you would call unsteady on our feet(when sober at least) but even the most sure footed of mountain goats would have had trouble on this particular outcrop. Deciding discretion was the better part of valour, we retreated to the safety of the graveyard again. Clairwil acted as an impromptu tour guide and pointed out the slightly macabre 'skull & crossbones' tombstones. She also pointed out the musket shot that pock marks the walls of the church itself. It was then I got my first sight of the rather ornate statue of John Cowane, set into the facade of the old infirmary building opposite the church. Clairwil informed me that the statue was known as 'Staneybreeks' and legend has it he comes to life and cuts a bit of rug with the revellers at New Year. Very drunk revellers I might add.................

The church itself is astonishing. The stained glass windows are awesome and i'm afraid my photographs simply cannot do the place justice. There was choral music being piped through, obviously to set a mood. Very nice it was too but I have to admit I prefer silence in these places. There were two ladies ever present near the church door, ensuring that every visitor left their name in the visitor book and made a donation of some sort. Quite right too. Some people wander in and out of such places, barely interested and determined to move onto the next relic or whatever is next in their guide book. Might as well get something out of them eh?

A few more snaps of old Staneybreeks and we were on our way. There was a notion of going to Stirling Bridge but first of all a call at the tourist info near Stirling Castle seemed to be in order.

That we didn't come out with much in the way of information should be of no surprise to any of you................

We managed to fight our way through all the worthless tartan tat and found a small leaflet rack. I think we found one pertinent leaflet and i'm not sure exactly how much use it was to us in the end. We wandered back down towards the town again and made a pitstop at The Settle Inn. After a few pints in this historic and apparently haunted little pub we made our way back towards the town. One last stop was made to take some photo's of the astonishing Stirlingshire countryside. We clambered up a small hill to find a family pointing out to their kids that they could 'see their house from here'. They promptly left, leaving us to snap away at such mundane objects as The Wallace Monument, the distant mountains and the grand sweep across the forth valley.

Oh well.

Dundee Gyp

2006-04-29T19:33:00.000+01:00

Hello,

Earlier in the week I took a trip to Dundee to see Morrissey perform at the Caird Hall. The gig itself was excellent and Morrissey seemed quite chipper, particularly at the thought of visiting Greenock which he reckons has 'great shoe shops' and 'everything you need'. He was supported by Sons and Daughters who surprised me by being very good, very good indeed. I was quite taken with the big strapping lassie singer as were some rather vocal male members of the audience. If I was fronting a band and a member of the audience told me to get my tits out I'd have them killed by security or shoot them. Harsh but fair. I'm sad to report the big strapping lassie wasn't quite as strict as I would have been.

The following day I took a stoat round Dundee concentrating mainly on The Tay which was a sparkly joy. I am a confirmed Tay fan. I was particularly pleased to see that they've added a 'William McGonagall Walk' to the river side so you can walk along laughing yourself silly at his hilarious tribute to 'The Railway Bridge Of The Silvery Tay'.

I stayed at the Apex hotel which has the most obliging staff of any hotel I've ever stayed in. Normally when I check in to a hotel the staff hurl a key at me then ignore me for the rest of my stay. Not the staff at the Apex though, they would offer to have all sorts of things delivered to my room from newspapers to meals. I've never felt so cared for in my life. I have friends and family that have shown me less kindness than the hotel staff in the Apex.

My journey home was less pleasant, though I did witness a most bizarre incident on the train. I was sat gazing out the window minding my own business, when my thoughts were interrupted by a woman shouting 'for God's sake, Shut the door'. I glanced round and was somewhat surprised to see a very red faced woman sitting on the toilet in full view of the passengers. More peculiar still was the behaviour of the man who had opened the door on the poor woman. He seemed frozen to the spot in horror and wasted a good minute saying 'I'm sorry' over and over again before he managed to shut the door. It put me right off my book and has deepened my public toilet phobia.

Cheerio

Hurrah For Hogganfield*

2006-04-24T20:35:00.000+01:00

Hello,

This morning I was up bright and early for a stroll round Hogganfield Loch. I'd like to report it was peaceful but I seemed to attract attention throughout. Firstly I was accosted by a man who wanted me to take a picture of him and his dog. Then at five minute intervals pensioners would appear and ask if I was from the college, to which I lied and said yes, it's always best to give the simplest explanation. People can get very upset at things they don't understand.

Later on when I was taking snaps of swans and ducks from the car park area a fucking comic genius in a white van spotted me and decided to ruin things by repeatedly sounding his horn to scare the birds away. I decided to treat this behaviour with the contempt it deserved but that wasn't enough for white van prick who shouted out the window that he had something in the van I might like a picture of, to which I replied that the police have a register for people like him and carried on snapping the altogether better behaved birds.

Otherwise it was a pleasant gyp. The loch itself is home to an array of wild birds who seem to be used to people and let you get quite close to them. The surrounding park and the loch are very easy on the eye indeed. In places it's easy to forget you are only minutes from main roads and the Craigend housing scheme. After my run in with white van tosser I decided it was time to go and walked over to Riddrie to catch a bus back into town. People aside I'd recommend a trip over to Hogganfield, though it's probably best to go mob handed to deflect unwanted attention. Oh and if you get any bother from an idiot in a white van you have my permission to slash his tyres.

*For some reason Blogger is refusing to let me add pictures to see my snaps click here.

Cheerio

Forfar Gyp: Heading Home

2006-04-17T21:27:00.000+01:00

Angus Countryside

Fuzzy Tay Bridge shot.

Fountains in City Square, Dundee.

Forfar Gyp: Station Park and Forfar

2006-04-17T21:11:00.000+01:00

Half Time

Thistle On The Attack

Queens Hotel, Forfar. A fine hostelry

Plaque on wall of Forfar Town Hall

More Forfar Gyp Photos

2006-04-17T21:05:00.000+01:00

River Tay from the train. Perth

You Are Being Watched!!. Bird covered rooftop, just outside Perth Station.

Forfar Gyp Photos

2006-04-17T20:36:00.000+01:00

Snow capped hills beyond Stirling

Ill Man Takes A Sneaky Gyp To Forfar

2006-04-15T21:35:00.000+01:00

Hello folks. A few weeks back I took a solo trip north to watch Partick Thistle play Forfar Athletic. Forfar is a small market town some fourteen miles north of Dundee and though easily reached by train and bus it's still what you might term as one of the more esoteric trips you might undertake of a weekend.

Got to Queen Street Station in Glasgow just as the the 11:42 to Dundee was pulling out and had to take the next one an hour later. Not an ideal start with the game due to start at 3pm. Arrived in Dundee just after 2pm. The journey was rather grand actually. The snowcapped hills near and beyond Stirling, the Tayside plains, the views of the Tay estuary all making for an engrossing train ride.

Anyway, one hour to get to the game and I didn't even know where Dundee bus station was................. Handily placed maps of the city centre got me to Seagate station in plenty time and onto the Forfar bus. Still cutting it fine though as I had little idea of where Station Park was in Forfar. A helpful bus driver(What???? They exist?) sent me in the right direction and an even more helpful local gave me the requisite final directions to lead me to the ground. Yay!

I missed the first ten minutes but from what I could see, Thistle hadn't been up to terribly much in my abscence. I wandered about the rather lovely and well maintained ground, ducking under the odd shout and volley of abuse to take the some shots of the action here and there. The weather had been slightly iffy all day and when I arrived, the grounds meagre set of floodlights were ablaze. By half time though, the clouds had cleared and the second half was bathed in the glow of some pleasant late afternoon sunshine. The game ended 0-0 with Thistle limping home with ten men. The referee was an incompetent, the linesmen were morons and Thistle, even with eleven men were ineffectual. Better is expected i'm afraid. Oh, and yes, the famous Forfar Bridies were sold out by half time. Not being a fan of bridies I had a pie and marvelled at it's greaseless texture, lightly spiced mince filling and general solidity. How unlike your average football catering..............

I wound my way back through the town to the bus stop, only to find the next service to Dundee was another hour away. I whiled it away in a nearby pub and could have stayed for longer such were the pleasant surroundings but decided getting half cut on my own in a strange town wasn't a great idea.

Five minutes into the journey back from Forfar I was regretting even having just the two. Caught short on a bus between Forfar and Dundee after two pints, I was in agony. Jumped off the bus somewhere on the outskirts of Dundee and raced for the first pub I could find. Not the manner in which I would have liked to explore a new town.

The walk into the city centre wasn't that bad actually, it was all downhill with some very nice views of the Tay and it's bridges at dusk. After that, a few swifthalfs in the station bar and onto the train for the final leg home.

This should have been a snooze actually but there was some rather fine onboard entertainment to come. A group of blokes got on without tickets. I think they were trying to get back to Glasgow but whatever they thought they were up to they didn't reckon on the ticket inspector from hell. When he appeared they stated that they had neither tickets nor money. Instead of taking the path of least resistance, the old boy with the ticket machine decided now was the time to kick arse. One foot up on the table, ticket machine balanced on his knee he laid down the law, letting them know in no uncertain terms that they would all be getting off at Perth unless they paid their fares. Shouts of "send the bill tae mah address" were rightly ignored and the four halfwits slunk off at Perth, one of them i'm almost certain having paid a full fare somehow expecting his mates to do the same. Beyond that, a carriage full of drunken Motherwell fans and an overheard conversation between a Motherwell fan and the Aberdeen reserve goalie was as entertaining as it got.

Then home............A little exhausted maybe but looking forward to a similar trip next season.

More Pollok Park Shots

2006-04-10T00:22:00.000+01:00

Burrell Collection

Highland Cattle.

Pollok Park Gyp Part 2

2006-04-09T13:24:00.000+01:00

More.....

More Pollok Park Photos

2006-04-03T23:41:00.000+01:00

2006-04-02T21:18:00.000+01:00

Pollok Park Gyp Pt1

2006-04-02T12:49:00.000+01:00

Another local Gyp. The weather was perfect for a stroll around this public park/estate in the south side of Glasgow. A quick trundle on the train to Shawlands was in order before entering the portals of the park. The first thing we saw were the highland cattle, at rest on a hillside just on the other side of the River Cart. They were a little too far away to get a decent shot of them, though we saw more in an isolation pen further on but still couldn't get near enough for a worthwhile photograph. Next came the stables for the heavy horses. We wandered our way into the courtyard and towards an open stable door. We were met by two absolutely awesome looking beasts, Baron and Mac. They were in the nearest stalls to the door and were obviously used to visitors. We were a tad reluctant to make any physical contact with them but another visitor decided to give mac a stroke on his nose. Not sure if it was out of annoyance or excitement but he slunk back into his stall and scuffed about out of sight before popping his head back out. Absolutely charming and beautiful animals. I could have stood all day looking at them.

A short walk took us to Pollok House. It's a stunning building and it's gardens are a joy, even this early in the year. Access to the house wasn't on our agenda today. Ok, we didn't feel like coughing up, but I wasn't in the mood to wander about in a large house and I got the impression Clairwil wasn't either. Not when the sun was out, there were insane ducks fighting and divebombing in the river and a variety of bizarre dead ends to wander down as we tried to locate the Burrell Collection.

In the end, we decided to repair to a nearby pub for some lunch and refreshments. A short detour was in order however as we took in the sixties nightmare construct of Shawlands Arcade and had a quick wander up to a local chapel, complete with Virgin Mary Grotto and an extremely ornate 'Christ On The Cross' war memorial.

The good news is that we have decided to go back to see the rest of the park next week, including the highly impressive Burrell Collection. We'd be delighted if some of our more local readers could join us.......................

(Photos To Follow...)

Gyp No3:Pollok Park 1/4/06

2006-03-22T22:42:00.000Z

Hello. Our next Gyp will be to Pollok Park on Saturday the 1st of April. Please feel free to pop along and join us.

We will be setting off from outside Marks & Spencer in Central Station at 12 noon.

More.

More Ruchill Shots

2006-03-14T22:23:00.000Z

Firhill Road. Next Stop Possil................

Firhill Basin
This lovely beast floated in from the canal and 'posed' for a few shots before making it's way to the other side of the basin.
Ruchill Park

Mini Gyp To Ruchill Park

2006-03-13T22:16:00.000Z

Ruchill Flagpole

Woodside flats and Port Dundas

Ubiquitous Glasgow Spires.

Hello. Braving frostbite, snowblindness and a wet arse, I made my way to Ruchill park on sunday to get some shots from the flagpole. Also paid a visit to the Firhill Basin to say hello to the ducks and a few swans.

Final Dawsholm Photos

2006-03-07T01:33:00.000Z

Dawsholm Photos Pt3

2006-03-07T01:21:00.000Z

Kelvindale Station
Allotments on Maryhill Road
Conference Centre in Science Park

More Dawsholm Pictures

2006-03-05T01:48:00.000Z

Kilpatrick Hills and Bearsden
Anniesland Station

View from station back to Dawsholm Park

Dawsholm Park Gyp Photos

2006-03-05T01:14:00.000Z

Queen Street Station
Possilpark Station
River Kelvin

Dawsholm Park Gyp

2006-03-05T00:26:00.000Z

Took a trip to this large expanse of green stuff in the north west of Glasgow today. Also gave me a chance to use the relatively new suburban railway from Queen Street, through some of the less fashionable bits of north Glasgow.

I caught the train at Glasgow Queen Street and got off at Kelvindale station, one stop short of the line end at Anniesland and made my way towards Dawsholm park.

The park itself is a little ill defined. Not on a par with Queens Park or Kelvingrove, both of which have a compactness and Victorian grandeur to them. It is literally as I describe it in my first sentence. It has the feel of a scaled down country park. The river Kelvin and the Kelvin walkway pass through it briefly and I made the mistake of following the river only to find myself out on a main road and briefly wandering about in a science park of all things. I made my way along a forest footpath back to where i'd started before finding the park proper. At this point I encountered about the thirtieth dog walker of the day. The look I was given by this rather fine labrador as I snapped it having a quick swim in the river was first class. By this time it was a little late and I was in need of feeding and watering, so a quick saunter through a rather nice tree lined avenue led me to a fantastic viewpoint looking out over the Kilpatrick Hills to the north west and the Glasgow suburbs of Bearsden, Knightswood, Drumchapel, Kelvindale and Anniesland.

On making my way back to the station I encountered another labrador, an over friendly one at that. The owner was almost annoyingly apologetic about it. God!, it's a lovely big Labby and it want's to say hello to me. Let it.

Got the train to Anniesland where the line terminates and took the chance to get some food at the local Wetherspoons(yes, I know.........) and some new batteries for my camera. The North Glasgow Loop as i've dubbed it isn't actually complete. The line I took to the park is unelectrified and ends in a small inshot at Anniesland station. From there one merely waits for an electric train to take you back to the low level station at Queen Street.

Suburban railways are generally used for commuter traffic, but if you want to get to some of Glasgow's harder to reach attractions with as little pain and hassle as possible, they kick the arse off the buses. Nicer staff as well.

More 10 Minute Gyp Snaps

2006-03-02T20:09:00.000Z

10 Minute Gyp- Cranhill Park

2006-03-02T19:14:00.000Z

Today instead of Greggs sandwiches at my desk, I bought some sandwiches from the cafe at the Cranhill Project and took a walk through Cranhill Park. Lovely.

More Edinburgh Gyp Snaps 24/01/05

2006-02-28T22:51:00.000Z

More Edinburgh Gyp News!

2006-02-27T21:22:00.000Z

Hello,

As the illman correctly reports, it was a bit dull as we headed off to Edinburgh but my day was considerably brightened by the fact we'd obviously made the twat across from us on the train hopping mad, by having the temerity to sit opposite him. He looked raging! What a contrast to the cheery atmosphere on the journey back- the encounter with the radical gentleman (reflection pictured above) being the highlight for me. Look at him just sat there plotting whilst pretending to be asleep. I expect we'll see him on the news one day.

Anyway the day itself was pleasant. We took a strut along to the parliament which was shut as the lazy creatures who run the show don't work Friday. I was going to kick the door in and demand admittance as a tax payer but was so non plussed by the outside in the end, I just couldn't be bothered. It's in completely the wrong place which only added to the 'damp squib' effect of the building. I knew the minute they started parading about giving it 'oh of course it's a round debating chamber because we co-operate like Sesame Street', I'd hate the bloody thing. I want opposing benches a mere two daggers apart and a floor awash with blood and I think they should work Fridays. Feel free to copy and paste this and send it to your MSP.

After strutting all the way from the castle to the parliament, it was pub time. The pub itself was nice enough but no-one warned me there was rugby on. Rugger Buggers should be horsewhipped. I don't mean the odd glance at a game type, I mean those braying, honking, bum obsessed toffs who suck the joy out of life every time they open their gargantuan gobs. They were little better than animals. Why it took six of them to gang up on one small barmaid I'll never know. I realise when you've spent most of your childhood being raped by prefects in one of the more exclusive educational establishments, you're likely to find women somewhat tricky but by early middle age you should have moved beyond the grunting stage.

I shall gloss over the rest of the evening as illman has covered it splendidly, though he has overlooked one important detail. We met a convict! A freshly released one at that! However this was no ordinary convict he was called Des and claims to be a nomad. He's planning to go to Newcastle next apparently. I didn't tell him I was a gypper he struck me as an easily confused chap and time was marching on. I would also point out that he was a lot better behaved than the rugger chaps. Perhaps a spell in prison would sort them out.

I've just had a quick scan over my report and it reads like I hated my day out, but I didn't. As long as you wrap up well, you really can't beat a walk round Edinburgh. Almost everywhere you look there's a cracking view or a wee close snaking off the street. A gem of a city and a definite repeat visit is planned.

Cheerio

Edinburgh Gyp Photos

2006-02-26T20:25:00.000Z

Edinburgh Gyp

2006-02-26T03:06:00.000Z

(Photographs To Follow)

.........And so it came to pass that we set off to Edinburgh on a murky looking Friday afternoon. The journey was pleasant, though the lady serving tea on the train certainly wasn't. It would seem I had ceased to exist for the few minutes it took to serve my erstwhile travelling companion. A can of warm Coke to lubricate my rather parched throat was all I desired but she took to the hills before I had a chance to place my order. Just bloody rude really.

On arrival we made our way up into the old town and then down the Royal Mile to the Scottish Parliament building. Not up to much the old parly. I hear it's lovely inside,but we were too late to get in. What I saw left me deeply underwhelmed. I shall leave Clairwil to hoof it in the nuts with a little more gusto. Not to say we hadn't seen anything of merit by this point. Princes Street and it's gardens will always be ace and the weird andwonderful things that populate the Royal Mile will always be worth seeing. The other great thing about about Edinburgh is it's pubs. Unfortunately, the six nations rugby was in town so a lot of them were heaving with burly and boisterous rugger boys. A pub called The Black Bull was found to be suitable for a nifty wee pub lunch/dinner before nipping off into the fading light of the early evening.

From there we worked our way back round to Princes Street and hoped to land in the welcoming arms ofThe Doric. Hopes were dashed mercilessly as the place was mobbed. We ended up in 'Belushi's', an American diner style bar next door. It was alright actually and served bottles of IPA which makes it alright in my book. All was fine until a crowd of loud wankers appeared on a lads night out. Nothing quite as irritating as having to halt a converstaion to allow some drunken halfwit to labour his only joke for about five minutes. An abortive look around the north side of Princes Street took us back to the station and a quick pint in the bar before getting the train home.

I have to say, Edinburgh charmed the socks off me. Maybe i'm easily impressed, but aesthetically speaking, it's a fantastic city. To be honest, you really need a weekend to even begin to do the city any justice but a little day or half day jaunt will take you around the main attractions and leave you eager to return for more.

Gyp No2- Edinburgh

2006-02-24T11:26:00.000Z

Hello,

We are going on a Gyp to Edinburgh today. If you'd like to come meet us at the entrance of Queen St station (Queen St entrance) at half past one.

Cheerio

Queens Park 04/02/05

2006-02-09T21:14:00.000Z

A Dirty Lorry At Shawlands Cross 04/02/06

2006-02-08T00:34:00.000Z

'Comet sucks cocks'

I can't help think that a simple letter of complaint might have been more effective, though not quite as amusing.

Further Queens Park Gyp Photos

2006-02-07T20:15:00.000Z

Queens Park Gyp- ill man's account of events

2006-02-05T16:22:00.000Z

A clear and slightly chilly morning was presented to us for our first recorded Gyp. A brief bus journey was required from Glasgow city centre and dropped us off at the entrance to this famous old public park in the south side of the city. A short but rather steep climb was required to reach the glass house. Clairwil, knowing the terrain better than I had planned that we scale this peak first in the interests of getting it out of the way and not troubling our tired old legs any more than we needed to.

The glasshouse itself was a revelation. The heat hit me immediately and a bit of disrobing was required(easy ladies, all that came off was my scarf) The pond caused immediate interest. The majority of the fish were brightly coloured but rather small tropical numbers, though they were no match for the bottom feeding leviathans who lurked and darted around the other end of the pool. Observing all this with an air of mild bemusement were two tropical ducks. They were a little inactive, but their prescence gave the whole thing a slightly surreal air.

A quick look around the animal house was in order. The tropical birds and the Chinchillas being the stars of the show. Then it was off out again into the cold February air. The next port of call was the falgpole at the top of the park. The views out towards the North of the city were astonishing. The words "I Can See My House From Here" came to mind. I couldn't, but you know what I mean. On a completely clear day, I may just have been able to.............

Then it was down the hill to the duck pond. About half way down however, we were halted in our tracks by a pair of small dogs who indulged in the kind of frantic chasing that only little dogs seem able to muster. After a few moments watching this whirlwind of fallen leaves and dog hair we decided to move on to something a little more serene. A few ducks were seen hanging out with some swans on a small islet, probably up to no good but beyond that the vast majority of the bird population were small gulls and pigeons. Very nice they were too, but it was the handfull of Swans that piqued the interest of a few families at the waters edge.

A fine day was wrapped up with an excellent lunch and a few well earned drinks in a rather nice Kilmarnock Road hostelry.

Until next time.................

p.s I'll stick some photos up in a seperate post. Blogger is playing silly beggars with me and won't let me upload photos in this post.

More Gyp Photos From Queens Park

2006-02-05T15:15:00.000Z

Hurrah For Queens Park

2006-02-05T14:09:00.000Z

Hello,

That's gyp number one out the way and very jolly it was too. We got off to a shaky start having encountered the rudest bus driver in the world. Far be it from me to tell a man how to earn his living but if people getting on a bus and paying their fare made me angry I would not be working as a bus driver.

Anyway we arrived at Queens Park after the traditional twenty minute stop at Eglington Toll and headed straight for the Glasshouse. I love the Glasshouse particularly the fish, ducks and of course my favourite the chinchilla who appears to have reproduced since my last visit. The baby chinchillas are fantastic, perky wee things who merrily zip about in a seemingly random fashion. I was so excited by the baby chinchillas I forgot to sing the chinchilla song. If any of you are planning to visit the chinchilla, please sing the following to the tune of your choice 'chin chin chin chin chilla, fa la la la la la la la'. The chinchilla has never indicated to me whether it enjoys this or not but I fancy I see a contended smile on it's wee face when it hears this tender tribute.

I was a bit miffed that the Cactus and Succulents section was shut but other than that enjoyed my stoat round the Glasshouse. After that we strolled along to the flagpole and marvelled at the view. I'm wild for views, all sorts of views rural, urban or suburban. Sadly it was a bit misty which obscured the hills in the distance, however I'd recommend a trip to the flagpole on a clear day.

For some reason all joy in my life is swiftly followed by tears and I suffered an episode of mild trauma when I was menaced by birds. There were thousands of them sitting in a tree watching, just watching. God knows what they were planning but it was chilling. The ill man has captured this terrifying episode on camera and believe me the relevant authorities will be informed. I felt like poor Tippi Herdren in 'The Birds'.

As a long term martyr to my nerves I put this episode behind me and strolled into Shawlands for lunch. For the love of God go to the Brooklyn cafe on Minard Rd next time you're out that way. The food is more pleasing stodge that haute cuisine but they do what they do well and deserve your custom. I'd also strongly recommend their vegetarian breakfast next time you're hungover. I should also point out that they serve Coke in the proper glass bottles with a straw, none of this cans or plastic bottles nonsense.

After lunch we both suffered a minor trauma by foolishly heading into the Hogshead on Kilmarnock Rd. Big mistake, it was populated by shirt wearing thugs who reeked of stale farts, aftershave and random violence. We lasted roughly one minute before leaving and heading to Stube further along the road only to witness a a saloon skirmish. I have no idea what caused it but apparently one guy was 'being a dick' which caused another fellow to hurl a pint over him a give him a slap. Lord knows what set it all off but the police were called and calm was restored.

There is a lot I've missed out like the dog chase and the startled squirrel but the ill man will no doubt give you his version of events at some point.

Cheerio

Queens Park (Gyp 001)

2006-02-01T19:51:00.000Z

Hello,
The first gyp of 2006 will be on the afternoon of Saturday 4th February. We shall be meeting at 12:30 outside Marks and Spencer in Glasgow Central Station and heading over to Queens Park.

See you Saturday

Welcome to The Gyp!

2006-01-29T20:36:00.000Z

Hello,
I bring you exciting news. I was out for a pint with the ill man yesterday when we got chatting about day trips. Before I knew it we'd only gone and come up with a drunken scheme to start a blog documenting our gyps. We have decided to become weekend gypsies and travel the British Isles. I wanted us to travel in a traditional horse drawn caravan however the ill man is afraid of horses so we'll be sticking to buses, trains and maybe even taking advantage of a few cheap flights.

However the best bit is yet to come. You are all invited to join us as we roam the land. Details of all trips will be posted here.

I've no news as yet of any proposed day trips but will update you all as soon as I have.

Cheerio