Bacchus in Glasgow and Fingers in Edinburgh

Once again I’m on the road. Or, more precisely, the rail. I’m racing north at twenty-five metres a second. My train journeys have taken on the character of pilgrimages, because they almost always chop my life into discreet sections, like the first letter of a new chapter in some medieval tome, illuminated with paper coffee-cups and fold-down tables. They also provide a lot of time for the thoughtful traveller to think up metaphors and reflect on their role in society.

Today’s journey is one to the Far North. I’m native to the south-west peninsula, famous for it’s palm trees and occasional confused Ibis, and when I first visited Oxford it was the furthest north I’d ever been. For my American readers, this is roughly equivalent to someone from the Everglades going to Tampa. Since then I’ve gone further north under the aegis of the Oxford Access conferences- to boreal outposts like Leicester (Macon, Georgia) Crewe (Knoxville, Tennessee) and even Newcastle (Baltimore, Maryland). Today, though, I’m going to Glasgow (Montreal).

Why, you ask, am I making my first ever trip North of the Border? Today, I’m going to visit Milbs, a Devonfriend who ended up at university in hyperborealis and, due to her habit of drinking cocktails, can never afford to make it south of Preston. Which to maintain the analogy, I’m going to call Concord, New Hampshire. I’m a great fan of Milbs, despite the difference in our personalities. While she’s pretty much on Freya’s wavelength, I’m more like Heimdall. Or, if you want to be classical, she’s pally with Dionysus while I’m more like Apollo. And yet, even despite occasional Krane-brother moments, I’m genuinely quite keen to see all these people again. The trains that took us all to university inevitably led to some seperation. And yet, I have evidence that they haven’t forgotten me.

First new massage. Received. Today at one. Twelve, A.M.

Hello... me and Tim are tyring to leave you messages at the same time. The thing is the next one might be really important, like someone’s dying or something. So you have to listen. There might be more than two messages, there might be three or four. You shut up man, I’m trying to leave a message.
Hey, we’re talking to the same person.
We’re both voicemailing you Nathan. At the same time. That’s
at different times of the day. That’s going to freak you out
I think it was Emma’s
This is going to really freak you out.
no no but it was Emmas
But was it Emma Jelley’s?
EMMAs emaas
It might have been Lucy’s even.
What it Emma’s or Lucys’?
Tell me the truth.
There are three possibilities.
(Imitates a dial tone)
You’re going to be so confused. You should listen to my message and try to stitch them together. It’s going to freak you out. You have to listen to this message. You can’t just hang up, I could be trying to tell you something really important. Tim’s Dead!
Jim
Ooooh- ghost
It was a saturday night.
I have my finger stuck in a coke bottle. Nathan you won’t believe it, I have my finger stuck in a coke bottle and its actually really worrying me now.
Remember when you got your finger stuck in Edinburgh?
Oh yeah, Nath, I got my finger stuck in Edinburgh. Not many people you can say that about.
Tim , this is serious man. How am I going to drink?
Oh shit. Don’t you dare pull it man. Don’t you dare. Oh, he got it out.

Song in my head: "Fantastic" by Mellow