Airdrie Immortalised

Too much of the day spent trying to organise some schtuff for this Trinity Gala that we felt would be good to have a presence at. In retrospect, why, I don’t know. So then I got out for a walk. Some much needed exercise, and I perambulated past Newhaven where people were disgorging from tenders from yet another cruise liner. A daily event now. The shops uptown must be close to running out of cashmere.
Up town to meet up with R&E at Indaba and then on to the Wee Red Bar to see Paul Higgins in This is Memorial Device. Much as I wanted to, I didn’t really buy into it sufficiently. After a promising start, his reverential tone, filled with wonder at those days and those happenings (all of which are fictional) began to drag a bit. It needed something transformational in my view. Like, more loud music or something. Still, the critics were out in force so we’ll see what Joyce Macmillan made of it soon enough. She’ll have loved it. It’s a small pond she fishes in, after all.