Thursday, December 02, 2004
A Life Changing Moment
Four years ago today my life changed forever. I left my flat in Glasgow and boarded the train to Edinburgh. It was freezing cold but I had a fire in my belly and a warm glow like the boy in the Ready Brek advert (if you aren’t British or over 30 you won’t get that).
It was a Saturday, and I was going to meet the girl in my office who I had been chasing for the past three months. She finally agreed to award me with an afternoon of her time after watching me make a spectacle of myself over e-mail, phone and at work nights out.
I arrived early and made my way to the top of the steps outside Waverly station. It was even colder than in Glasgow and a film of ice covered the pavements. The waiting made me nervous so I went for a walk back through the station and round onto the bridge. When I returned dead on 2pm, I saw her there, waiting.
Wearing her long black coat with furry collar, jeans and black boots, she looked sophisticated yet down to earth. She saw me approach and smiled. I wanted to kiss her, hold back her dark hair and tell her, “You might be the one.”
We went for a coffee then browsed some records in a store. I started to struggle for ideas what to do next, for Edinburgh was still new to me and I new nowhere. She suggested a drink; I agreed, knowing I needed something to relax me. It wasn’t like me to be nervous around a woman, but I needed something to loosen the patter which with I thought I could impress her.
The Hogshead Bar in Rose Street was our port of call - £1.80 for a single measure spirit, or an extra 40p for a double. We talked, laughed, debated and drank those doubles.
I proposed 1 year and 23 days later.
Quick question while I change subject: what makes people think it is okay to click their fingers, alternating the clicks on each hand, while they stand behind you as you try do your job?
Jackie McCann has retuned from his short hiatus and is back in action. I re-wrote issue 37 during the afternoon after deciding where the story is to move to next if I am to get him through to Edinburgh. It is a crucial part of the plot and the scene had to be right. I needed tension, emotion, and claustrophobia with a sudden release of expectation, and I have been struggling to find a suitable location for his meeting with another character to take place. Where would be best? I asked myself a million times. Then is hit me - who says it has to be on the streets of Glasgow - why not under? The Glasgow Underground gave me my answer.
I walked home with the soundtrack of Yello’s Stella album in my ears, plotting how I am going to write the story, acting it out in my head. It’s turning into a Gothic play in 8 short scenes over 2 acts. And every time I listen to it, more ideas are forthcoming.
When I got home I asked Laura what she was doing next Tuesday.
“Nothing,” she said.
“No Brownies, swimming or anything?”
“Nope.”
“Well how do you fancy going to see Busted in concert with your Mum? I got 2 tickets for you today – centre front.”
Her wee face lit up like a Christmas tree. It will be her first concert but I’m not sad I won’t be there to see it, Busted aren’t my thing. Besides, at the price of them it would have been a ton for us all to go. Seeing her happy like that is enough for me anyway.
I was too tired to do anything – even cook dinner - and I hit the sack at 10pm after falling asleep on the couch. I set the alarm for 6am; get some early darkness of the City of Edinburgh in my system and use it to inspire more for my evolving Stella-related story.
It was a Saturday, and I was going to meet the girl in my office who I had been chasing for the past three months. She finally agreed to award me with an afternoon of her time after watching me make a spectacle of myself over e-mail, phone and at work nights out.
I arrived early and made my way to the top of the steps outside Waverly station. It was even colder than in Glasgow and a film of ice covered the pavements. The waiting made me nervous so I went for a walk back through the station and round onto the bridge. When I returned dead on 2pm, I saw her there, waiting.
Wearing her long black coat with furry collar, jeans and black boots, she looked sophisticated yet down to earth. She saw me approach and smiled. I wanted to kiss her, hold back her dark hair and tell her, “You might be the one.”
We went for a coffee then browsed some records in a store. I started to struggle for ideas what to do next, for Edinburgh was still new to me and I new nowhere. She suggested a drink; I agreed, knowing I needed something to relax me. It wasn’t like me to be nervous around a woman, but I needed something to loosen the patter which with I thought I could impress her.
The Hogshead Bar in Rose Street was our port of call - £1.80 for a single measure spirit, or an extra 40p for a double. We talked, laughed, debated and drank those doubles.
I proposed 1 year and 23 days later.
Quick question while I change subject: what makes people think it is okay to click their fingers, alternating the clicks on each hand, while they stand behind you as you try do your job?
Jackie McCann has retuned from his short hiatus and is back in action. I re-wrote issue 37 during the afternoon after deciding where the story is to move to next if I am to get him through to Edinburgh. It is a crucial part of the plot and the scene had to be right. I needed tension, emotion, and claustrophobia with a sudden release of expectation, and I have been struggling to find a suitable location for his meeting with another character to take place. Where would be best? I asked myself a million times. Then is hit me - who says it has to be on the streets of Glasgow - why not under? The Glasgow Underground gave me my answer.
I walked home with the soundtrack of Yello’s Stella album in my ears, plotting how I am going to write the story, acting it out in my head. It’s turning into a Gothic play in 8 short scenes over 2 acts. And every time I listen to it, more ideas are forthcoming.
When I got home I asked Laura what she was doing next Tuesday.
“Nothing,” she said.
“No Brownies, swimming or anything?”
“Nope.”
“Well how do you fancy going to see Busted in concert with your Mum? I got 2 tickets for you today – centre front.”
Her wee face lit up like a Christmas tree. It will be her first concert but I’m not sad I won’t be there to see it, Busted aren’t my thing. Besides, at the price of them it would have been a ton for us all to go. Seeing her happy like that is enough for me anyway.
I was too tired to do anything – even cook dinner - and I hit the sack at 10pm after falling asleep on the couch. I set the alarm for 6am; get some early darkness of the City of Edinburgh in my system and use it to inspire more for my evolving Stella-related story.
Colin 9:24 pm
4 Comments:
Colin, how very sweet that you vividly remember such an important occasion, and FOUR YEARS LATER no less! (I have enough trouble trying to get my hubby of nine years to remember our Anniversary, let alone our first date!) Good on you, Col! Thanks for sharing.
Bigchap! Might have to revise the ReadyBrek age limit - I remember it well...and I am happily under 30 ;-) *4*
This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.
What a beautiful post, Colin. Your wife is a lucky lady. :)