Hello hello. Folks. Just thought I'd drop you a wee update on our progress, since I'm stuck in THE WORST AIRPORT LOUNGE ON GOD'S GOOD EARTH and feel the need to vent. (The Sky Lounge at Glasgow Airport, by the way - will get to that in a second).
Woke up at 5am feeling perfectly spritely. Ha! More like feeling like I've been hit by a double decker bus with a cargo of bricks steaming downhill out of control. Anyway. Our dear family friends The Lows - perhaps the Greatest People On Earth - looked after us handsomely and drew us out of our frost induced coma. My makeshift bedroom was at the far end of the 1680 cottage, some 25 metres from the AGA. Wasn't warm I'm not going to lie. We all huddled aroud said AGA with our Cornflakes, cups of tea and croissants. Auntie Phil threatened to cook up a storm of pig and chicken offspring but we insisted that we were fine.
Jock woke up and gave us a stirring speech or two, then gave me a FIRM handshake as we pulled out of Dunearn farm bound for Knightswood Golf Club in Glasgae. What tremendous hosts they've been over past couple of days. Little brother Conor was at the wheel as we hurtled down the M8 packed to the rafters with all the possessions required for a year on the road (and more). Les Miserables was blaring out of my MacBook in between dance tracks. Yes folks The Red Dragon (Conor's car borrowed from his beloved Selkirk Rugby Club) was in its element and overloaded beyond belief.
But we got to Knightswood in one piece. Which was a relief I can tell you. 'Twas still dark as we pulled into the shady carpark, which sits underneath a few of those slightly disconcerting blocks of flats that Glasgow is characterised by in my mind. A keen soul was there too, and even teed off before us under the dark of night. Perhaps he was catching a flight too.
While Conor and Bart went in search of a decent fry up Goldy and I did what we often do: played golf. 9 holes in about 55 minutes. Knightswood wasn't Cypress Point but it was relatively good fun and it satisfied a need. If you for some reason play there, please do yourself a favour and don't go in the (narrow, unraked) bunkers. They're really the course's only defence and an effective one at that.
Alistair the Course Steward was a character of a man and we had our picture made with him after we walked off. Photo to come in due course.
Conor was farewelled with a few big bear hugs and so it was off to the Emirates Service Desk. What a lovely lady it was that served us with bags of Glaswegian charm. We were ushered to the business class check in (no we're not flying business class before you ask) and generally treated like royalty. Loving Emirates at this point. Both the usher and the duty manager chap - David - somehow knew who we were, and asked how our golf was this morning. Bewildered.
Despite all our 456 tonnes of luggage they didn't charge us an extra cent which is a TREMENDOUS RESULT. David also hooked us up with discounted entry into the Sky Lounge, God Bless Him. Unfortunately the Sky Lounge - and of course this is no fault of David's - is THE WORST AIRPORT LOUNGE IN HISTORY. Even worse. First, there's no Wi-Fi (I'm on a PC in the corner, which I'm not allowed to drink my lemonade by in case I have a spill). Second, no fruit. I ventured into a room just off the buffet which I thought was a second buffet but which was actually a staff room, and grabbed a banana that was in plain view. It wasn't mine to grab and I was soon scolded by The Scottish Dragon. "No, that's the staff's fruit bowl." Well, is there a fruit bowl out there? "No, we don't do fruit." Oh. Sod it. And so on and so forth.
Anyway it is time to board our plane. Next stop Dubai. Scotland and the UK generally has been an amazing part of our adventure. Sad to leave but looking forward to the next episode. As always.
Thanks Scotland and everyone else other than the staff at The Sky Lounge at Glasgow Airport.
JP
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Chisholm Park
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