Irvine, no more

We don't have a car because... all kinds of reasons. My God though, it's hard, sometimes, this doing public transport malarkey. Like today. Went to Irvine. Shared the bus with a load nice people. And the family McFuck. Small girl who has the loudest voice in Ayrshire. Dad who was massive, and declares his intention to get a wee nap in the seats designated disabled. And the Ma who'll glower at any body whose eyes say else...

Then you get to Irvine. Do the bloody shopping. Go to the Kings Arms, which looks from the exterior like Rabbie Burns might once have sauntered in... and then you go in and oh my God! There's a load fellas whose conversation stops just so as they can look at you. Luckily, I learned how to play that at school, that Mr Starey-oot, so it went on ok.

Initially, we wanted a half and a glass a wine, but as Tom had it, nobody brought anything small into a bar around here. So I got a pint. Later, we tried the “restaurant”. They were having a laugh.

I'm not that saying that Irvine's shite, or anything, I'm just saying I was glad to be here, wherever that is...

Neds of my nightmares take note: I'll find you.


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