Velvet Elvis to The Park Bar- a West End Odyssey.

“Keep Partick‘s Weird”  The mural on the wall of Velvet Elvis, an ex butcher shop turned groovy drinking den on Dumbarton Road in Partick, declares and does a pretty good job.  I love this place. It’s comfy and friendly and has tasty food and does a mean mojito.  We started off Saturday’s afternoon outing here with an ice cold glass of chenin blanc and a bowl of skinny fries with alioli.  I would like to point out, I don’t normally eat chips with every drink, but I do admit my last few posts would contradict this statement.  Sticking with this healthy eating plan, our next stop was Little Italy on Byers Road for pizza then coffee.  They do gooood pizza.  We then turned back on our route and headed to The Lismore to catch up with some old pals over a Malt of the Month…or two.  Highland Park was the current tipple on offer and it went down rather nicely.  The Lismore is a crackin pub, full of local characters with great banter.  Combined with some live music provided by musicians in town for Celtic Connections, it was a great afternoon.  It was also our downfall, as we had intended catching an early train home but instead found ourselves having too much fun to end it here.  The natural progression was a quick taxi ride to the institution that is the Park Bar, where Heilan’ lads and lassies gather in vast numbers for some ceilidh chaos.  The last train home came and went and we were still propping up the bar and talking mince.  I pity the poor taxi driver who scooped us up for the journey home at approximately 12.30, six hours after we originally intended to head home.  Still, what’s the point in working hard all week if you can’t throw caution to the wind and go with the proverbial flow?  I love nights like this- Unplanned joy.  It’s random nights in places like this I think helps keep Partick, and the rest of the West End, a wee bit weird but totally wonderful.

Cringe drinking- Friday night Sambuca-thon in Glasgow

January is normally a time of hibernation, where, other than the Celtic Connections festival, not much else happens.  However, given the cancellation of many a festive night out in December due to the rotten weather that brought the country to it’s knees, January this year has become Christmas party season.  Yes, yesterday was my turn to wear something inappropriate to work, slide my normally flat feet into something far less practical or comfortable than I am used to, and totter off up through the bright lights of Glasgow’s Bath Street for a night of silly antics with my co-workers/reprobates.  We did the normal thing that people who don’t go out together very often do.  We got really drunk and embarrassing, said things we would probably never normally say to each other, danced in our seats like a bunch of complete fannies, split drinks, fell over, some of us (not me) even got escorted from the premises.   Was it a good night?  You bet.  Sometimes you just need to act like a stupid teenager on their first bottle of Mad dog 50/50.

Given the alcohol consumed, I am surprised I am functioning at all today, but I would like to think my anti hangover method of lots of tea before bed and midnight noodles went some way to vaccinating me from the worst effects.  As yet, the cringe has not set in, but I am sure it will some time between now and Monday morning.  However, whatever flashback I have, it cannot compare to hearing this morning that one of my worse for wear colleagues, on her train journey home, threw up….in her handbag.  I nearly fell on my arse laughing.  I can only imagine her frame of mind at the moment she realised she was going to be sick and thinking her handbag was the best place for it.  I have put this activity on my new list of things to never, no matter how drunk you are , ever do.

The hangover

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I must be about 8.2 on the Teucheter-scale today.  I would have been about 8.9 on friday night but I’ve managed to bring it down a notch or two to a less catastrophic state.

Celtic Connection festivities lived up to expectations.  After checking into our 12th floor, ahem, “penthouse” room the evening got underway with that most traditional of Scottish beverages, and one of my all time favourites-  The Daiquiri.  Well, washed down with a side of chilli and parmesan chips and it’s a definite Celt-Cuban classic!  This was followed by…another Daiquiri but this one was in the grand surroundings of the Blythswood Hotel- not a deep fried tatty in sight. After a bit of eavesdropping on some lovies who swore blind they new best friend was the manager of the Black Eyed Peas (really?…but really though?) we moved on to line our stomaches before doing some serious damage.  Anyway, we weren’t friends with anyones manager so clearly were not going to fit in.  Not with the kind of night we had in mind.

Bring on the trumpets!…and fiddles and banjos and flutes, pipes, guitars and drums!

Celtic Connections festival commences this weekend. I predict carnage on friday night and I canny wait. Chances of being fit to cook mother-in-laws birthday dinner on Saturday?….Aye, we’ll see. Drink tea before bed and just say no to whisky. Just say no to whisky? …JUST SAY NO TO WHISKY!

I’ll be grand.