Glasgow 28th February 2007.

In Glasgow my mood improved. It doesn’t take much. Evidence that people are out there enjoying fannying about with language is sometimes enough. On Buchanan Street, somebody had converted an old Tardis style police phone box into a coffee stall and called it Coppucino, which managed to convince me the world hadn’t gone entirely to pot. Round the corner there was a sandwich shop called Snacks in the City.
It must be something in the water. There was an exhibition of photos by Kathleen Little at the always excellent Glasgow Museum of Modern Art. The pictures were just close-ups of ordinary people, but they were a reminder of how interesting people’s faces are when you’re made to really look at them. The local newspaper headed their review of the show, ‘Little’s Things Mean a Lot.’
In the art supplies shop near the museum I was struck by the two women who worked there. One was very pale with pink hair. She’d gone the extra mile and done her eyebrows too, which had the odd effect of making her looking like an albino mouse that had gone through some strange reversal. People used to try to look ordinary for job interviews but now perhaps you’re more expected to look the part. The other assistant had brown hair, with a three inch blue streak in it. It suggested a lack of commitment. Perhaps she was new. Or part-time.