Whispering In The Dark

Last night was ever so slightly weird, in lots of ways. I was at a gig in Cottier's Theatre with my friends Kay and James, and they brought along their niece, Kirstin. It's probably worth mentioning that there's a slight weirdness in seeing Kirstin. She's around the same age her parents were when I met them at Uni, and because my mental pictures of them were created and promptly frozen at her age, I can see elements of both of them in her really clearly. Ruth and Aidan were great friends through my twenties - Ruth is Kay's older sister, and Aidan and I played chess and drank wine together whenever we got the chance. The four of us went on holiday together, and were each other's dinner party guests all through the eighties. I even dated Aidan's sister for a while after Kay and I broke up. The fact that they have two grown up kids never fails to boggle me. Kirstin is enough like her mother that when she stands beside Kay it's almost like seeing Ruth at 19 and Kay at 48 simultaneously. In short (about 5'2"), she's a real live special effect.

Cottier's holds its share of weirdness too. It was a local of mine when I lived just opposite, I've been to gigs there many times, and I once helped my accountant avoid a drugs bust there. There are also a couple of painful personal memories about the place. Long gone...

Anyway, the gig was Aidan Moffat and Bill Wells. I know Aidan from his Arab Strap days, so I was prepared for a pretty miserable evening, shot through with some sly humour. Which was more or less what I got. It was a bit more jazzy than I expected (apparently Bill had made Aidan promise it wouldn't be jazzy, but he obviously lost out) and that made it sound a lot like Tom Waits' spoken word pieces - not something to put me off. I enjoyed the music enough that I'll probably download their album, but, unusually, I didn't leave with slight melancholy and a desire to visit the nearest dive bar. No, instead I left elated and feeling that life was full of unexpected beauty.

Why so?

About 20 minutes into the support act's set (bearded folkie singing several "The Bitch She Left Me" tunes) James passed along his mobile. Which was displaying an unbelievable piece of news - Celtic had taken the lead against Barcelona! (Do you need context? Barcelona are the best football team in the world right now, possibly the best ever, and Celtic are my team, and Scotland's champions. They've been drawn in the same group for the European Champions League). As I handed back the phone back, quietly, I noticed that a lot of respectably hipsterish guys were staring intently downwards. Nothing unusual about shoe-gazing, but they were actually looking at their mobiles.

For the next hour, well into Aidan and Bill's set, there was much hoping against hope. There were ten minutes left to play in the match when James handed along his mobile again. I knew what it would say - Barcelona must have scored. Maybe they'd scored twice? I was wrong. Celtic's 18 year old substitute, bought for £50k from Airdrie and with 8 first team games to his credit, had scored. Celtic 2, Barcelona 1 was the final score.

I wish I'd been watching the game. If it hadn't been for the gig, I would have been. But in a way having that secret knowledge and knowing it was held by a scattering of other people in the hall, made me even more jubilant (if a lot quieter in my celebrations).

Well done Celtic.

Oh, forgot to mention...

I've joined another gym, on a short term basis. They had a cut price six week offer, and they are a five minute walk from my office. They don't have a pool or a hot tub, and they don't have a branch in Glasgow, so I won't be changing from my current gym, but it will make it easier for me to have a six-week push to get fitter before Christmas.

My weight loss has leveled out about a stone above where I want it to be, so an extra effort seems to be called for. Which is a long way of saying that I was there for a work out at lunchtime, and I'm going for another after work tonight.