Five men and a lady
(L-R: Ben, Ying, Andrew, Yogen, Aila with city backdrop of the Kelvingrove museum, taken from the University: Glasgow, Scotland)
Last night was the latest in a (seemingly) long string of late nights. Amazingly I have seen very little of Ying, despite him now having been here for a week. We have both been working all week in different places and every evening has had an appointment of some kind, except on Tuesday when he simply fell asleep at 7pm and could not be roused.
So, last night was the final evening of these boys’ short trip to the UK; they had accompanied Ying from China for meeting in Glasgow, but must now return home, still jet lagged from the journey out. Straight after work, Ying insisted we use a car to drive them across town to the West End where we performed an impromptu tour of the Glasgow University cloisters. He parked in the restricted car park and we ran under cover of the cloisters, concerned of being hauled from the place, or having our wheels clamped. This is a photograph I took early on – you can see how cold it is from all the huddling and hunched shoulders. I think that must be Yogen’s fingers giving us the Peace sign there. There has to be one, doesn’t there? I considered asking if one of them would oblige, but it turns out I didn’t have to. I was practically shivering too; it has become winter again here and I am strongly considering dragging my winter coat back out for another round.
We climbed over a fence (or round it) to get out of the University compound and back to the car. Luckily the sun came out momentarily and many cameras were snapping. When we reached the restaurant, (to the turning heads of locals; five Chinese men and one white lady is bound to draw some attention) there was much explaining of menus as it was written with a slightly whimsical Scottish twist, no doubt to delight tourists. Unfortunately it backfired somewhat in this case and though I valiantly offered to attempt explanations, Ying was favoured for his ability to translate (though to me, it felt as if there were no appropriate words for ‘parfait’, ‘ haggis’ or ‘farce’. I have never seen the word ‘farce’ on a menu before, but I have a feeling it may have a tendency towards dryness.
We ended up cruising towards midnight in a noisy bar in the Merchant City; they played all manner of alternative and classic tunes with the accompaniment of a decent selection of beers and an admirable assortment of single malt whiskies. I realised we would shortly be getting out of hand when the arm wrestling began and Yogen had to stand to flex his triceps, to the confusion of some onlookers. Needless to say, I was flagging well before this point – it seems we have been catching up with various people all week and we have had hardly a moment to ourselves. The weekend will be no different as we will be taking my Gran to the theatre tomorrow, and apparently my mother and sister will descend upon us by Sunday. It’s all go here.
– Today Rosie is working, having even more drinks and considering a well earned afternoon nap in Glasgow, Scotland –
