Jemma visits Glasgow.

Jemma had never visited Scotland before, and now I’m completely settled in my own space up here it was the perfect chance for her to come and take a look. She kept messaging me before arriving asking excitedly what we were going to do, and not being one for plans, I never knew what to answer. We just made it up as we went along.


It was the hottest day of the year, and the psychopaths we are decided to walk around this huge human oven in the botanic gardens. 10/10 would not recommend. Though it was worth it for some wee fluffy leaves that felt like the insides of dog ears.


Due to social media, I suppose, a lot of my pals out of Glasgow became used to seeing the various photos I’d post during my time working at Cathouse. And I think there’s an unusual familiarity that comes with that, and even though Jemma’s no longer a night out person and probably can’t remember the last time she was in a club, the Cathouse still had its way and sucked us in.


Again, it was the hottest day of the year, and the Air Con wasn’t working. I was obviously thrilled about that.


The night out coincided with some familiar faces, and I ended the night on my back by the Clyde after insisting Jemma gets familiar with a Pizza Crunch Supper.


I was planning on it being a sober night for me. But, no. The following morning was hell, but I dragged myself up and made sure we took a walk along the canal and to catch the train to Balloch.


We sat by the loch and just chatted shit, really. Ideal.


My personal highlight of the entire few days was the divvy tourist getting needlessly close to a swan and it’s babies with his shitey camera, clearly distressing them, until the other swan went and attacked him.


Novelty boobs.


After it threatening to all day, the heavens opened. It pissed it down so hard, and it was incredible.


We’d done a bunch of walking the first two days, and the third day both opted to just chill. Yer doing alright when you’ve got friends you can just comfortably exist and do NOTHING with.


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