The State That I Am In
Hiya! So, the first song I ever listened to by Belle & Sebastian was the above mentioned, in which the line 'turning tables at Marks & Spencer' is featured. I was intrigued by this M&S mention ("M&S!" said The Pants, "It's our initials!" She's easily amused), and subsequently heard it elsewhere. As The Pants will tell you, it has become something of an obsession, and that is the state that I am in. I'd like to say it's because of the easily accessible facilities, but in truth, it's the food. I fully understand this "Heathrow Injection" everyone talks about, and it's probably due in large part to the lovely array of smoothies, baked goods and ready made delights that entrance as you enter. Thank heavens I don't live in the UK or I would weigh, well, a heck of a lot. Not to mention all the other things, like Jaffa cakes and Bakewell Tarts and Double Decker bars...you get the picture. Probably just the novelty, but ugh. Barf.
Anyway - today we're in Glasgow. I listened to some Belle & Sebastian (didn't intend to talk about them so much here) and Franz Ferdinand on the train, all proud Glaswegians. It's so green and gorgeous in Scotland. The hostel here is uncommonly nice and friendly. Other titles for this trip, had we officially named it at all, could be "Hostels and Train Stations, all the live long day", or "Why is the crazy lady washing her socks at 11:30pm?" Suffice it to say, hostels are useful, but odd.
Glasgow is misty and foggy today, but I feel an odd and unfamiliar sense of calm. As we sped along on the train from Edinburgh this morning, I started thinking about the poem I nicked the title of the blog from. RL Stevenson was a Scotsman, so it was quite fitting. Not to get maudlin on y'all, but the lines that were rattling in my head...
"Home no more home to me, whither must I wander
Hunger my driver, I go where I must.
Cold blows the winter wind, over hill and heather
Thick drives the rain and my roof is in the dust."
Seemed quite fitting today.
Now, a week in Ireland, to be sure. Once again, no USB ports so no pictures yet. Lame!
Anyway - today we're in Glasgow. I listened to some Belle & Sebastian (didn't intend to talk about them so much here) and Franz Ferdinand on the train, all proud Glaswegians. It's so green and gorgeous in Scotland. The hostel here is uncommonly nice and friendly. Other titles for this trip, had we officially named it at all, could be "Hostels and Train Stations, all the live long day", or "Why is the crazy lady washing her socks at 11:30pm?" Suffice it to say, hostels are useful, but odd.
Glasgow is misty and foggy today, but I feel an odd and unfamiliar sense of calm. As we sped along on the train from Edinburgh this morning, I started thinking about the poem I nicked the title of the blog from. RL Stevenson was a Scotsman, so it was quite fitting. Not to get maudlin on y'all, but the lines that were rattling in my head...
"Home no more home to me, whither must I wander
Hunger my driver, I go where I must.
Cold blows the winter wind, over hill and heather
Thick drives the rain and my roof is in the dust."
Seemed quite fitting today.
Now, a week in Ireland, to be sure. Once again, no USB ports so no pictures yet. Lame!
posted by Sheila at
11:30 AM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home