11th May: Forres to Glasgow

As arranged, Betsy took me to the station. She stayed to wave good bye and gave me a lovely bees wax candle made by Mr Salt, which I stashed carefully in my case in case it broke. The train took me back down through Scotland, a thoroughly enjoyable journey, ending up in Glasgow around 2pm. I took a photo of an old tenement hall near Glasgow - all the windows had been broken, and it was in the process of being demolished. I expect the Glasgwegians had decided they didn't like living in these buildings, which reminded me of the boxes some farmers put battery hens in.
Of course just to test how I would have done if I had tried to change from Queen Street to Central Station a few days ago, on arrival at Queen Street, I attempted to get to Central Station within 30 minutes. I got lost several times, thereby vindicating my choice to take a bus from Lancaster to Edinburgh when confronted with the alternative of changing stations within 30 minutes. Oh never mind, you had to be there. Glasgow is very Glaswegian. The first thing I noticed was a young girl, about 12 years old, sporting a 9 month baby belly. It shocked me and made me feel a little sad – I just couldn’t get my head around why a kid would want to have sex, which I see as a kind of adult activity. Little girls draw pictures and giggle, they don’t have sex, surely. Before I left Auckland I printed several maps explaining where items of interest such as Accrington and Glasgow Eurohostel were. I got out my trusty map of Glasgow (thank you Mr Google) and walked to Eurohostel, which I had chosen as the cheapest accommodation offered through the conference site (I was on my way to a conference in Glasgow). Eurohostel turned out to be not very difficult to find (it was quite near Central Station, so I only had to ask for direction 2 – 3 times), and alarmingly similar to a youth hostel, but I wasn’t a youth. I nervously asked for my room, fully expecting that they would put me in a dormitory, but they had a room set aside for me and within 10 minutes they had figured out who I was and why I was there. I paid the full amount (about £80 for 4 days) and headed upstairs trepidating as I went. It was small, clean, and comfortable, so in all fairness, I couldn’t complain. I propped the window open with my garlic pills, and went to do my washing. I unpacked all the things that had been stuffed in my case for the last week or so, and sorted everything that needed sorted, such as my wallet, the clothes, and my toilet bag. I recharged my telephone, laptop and toothbrush, and discovered I had lost my PDA charger. I had two showers, and washed my hair. It was wonderful. I decorated my room with damp socks, shirts and underwear, then went to explore Glasgow. I found a small supermarket near the hostel, and bought a salad and some wine for my dinner, and sat at my window watching the Clyde River drinking wine and eating salad. Travel is a marvelous way to commune with oneself. By the time I went to bed everything was recharged, clean, and tidy. I even got the filling that had fallen out of my teeth in Forres, and put it in my toilet bag. You never know when a spare filling might come in handy.