Old haunts, new discoveries

We are both crawling to bed exhausted by a day that began with a painful wee blood-sample moment (mine) and ended with the discovery that the new internet hub seems to have failed to reach downstairs after an initial triumph yesterday, with the result that the TV is no longer connected to the Internet and we can't use most of its facilities - this all because of the need to change to EE and use their new, "improved" hub. I may need to take to drink ...

In between we went to Glasgow for our regular lunch with my cousin and his wife - this time, at my request, to Janey Godley's favourite eatery, Eusebi's Deli. It's right in the heart of my old life, being down the road from my old school, Hillhead, and my university, and opposite the first school I taught in, Woodside - no longer a school building, as it's now on the far side of Kelvingrove Park, but filled with memories. 

We staggered out two hours later, laid low by rather splendid food (I had "Yesterday's Lasagna", singled out for special mention in a rave in The Times today) with salad, and possibly too much to drink in the middle of the day, and headed for the Subway together. The two of us shoogled back into Buchanan Street on the new carriages (harder seats than the old ones) and joined the wet throng in the street which had turned into several wee rivers in the rain which came on while we were eating. 

I then spent quite a lot of money on a new cagoule, having had wet arms and other strange damp patches recently in my old one, which owes me nothing. Besides, it's getting a tad tight ... Tiso's is a bad place for me to visit; I have for years been more seduced by outdoor clothing shops than any other kind but there's a limit to how many fleeces you can sensibly own...

And then we came home to this nonsense with the internet, and my phone still trying (and, strangely, succeeding) to join up with my old BT hub and rejecting my password for the new one, presumably because it couldn't find it and was bluffing like a kid caught out in cheating. Or something. Anyway, I've just about had it with these companies - but I really can't survive a net-free life.

Collage of a wet Buchanan Street and one of the Victorian joys of remembering to look up in Glasgow, and the wall of the restaurant, made up of actual cuttings carefully stuck on. 

Viva Italia!