Sunday 2 October 2022--The last two nights of my trip are in Glasgow, an easy hour from Edinburgh by train. I've never felt much love for the place, at least not until I discovered the West End a few years back. I thought about staying out there again, but in the interest of logistics, decided on a room just off George Square, a block from Queen Street Station. Besides, I thought it was time I gave the city center another chance. Ron and I have talked for years about attending Celtic Connections, the sprawling music festival that takes place here in January, and this coming one might be the one we finally get to. This short stay will be a bit of a scouting expedition.

I get a pizza and a couple of pints at the Shilling Brewing Company, and then head for the Pot Still, my favorite pub in town. I'm feeling a bit wiped out--I was drinking with Willie last night, after all--and am thinking to make it an early night. But I fall into conversation with the three gents sharing my table, one a local; another a Londoner of Indian heritage; the third an African-American fellow from Washington DC. Two Moroccan lads at the next table join in. This, I think, is Glasgow. The time passes, and the Pot Still closes at a civilized hour.