Sectarianism

Yesterday I wore my bright green woollen coat to celebrate that spring was in the air. A man approached me: "I don't like green." I blinked a couple of times and then sighed. Ever heard of Sectarianism? It is: "..bigotry, discrimination, intolerance or hatred arising from attaching importance to perceived differences between subdivisions within a group, such as between different denominations of a religion or the factions of a political movement." In Glasgow, sectarianism is linked to football.

I was wearing green, so to the stranger I was obviously a Celtic supporter. He was evidently a Rangers supporter given his "I don't like green" stance. He moved across the road to confront me head-on. I'm not proud of this, but I did a little girly giggle and put on my best Danish accent: "Oh, are you talking about the football stuff?" And after I had explained I was from Copenhagen, didn't know anything about football, and he had repeated his "I don't like GREEN" about a dozen times, the man told me that I was lucky I was such a nice girl .. otherwise he would have messed me up.

(and I once showed up wearing green nail varnish at work and was told that I better be wearing blue nail varnish the next day just to show my neutrality. It didn't matter that green is one of my favourite colours and I don't give a t*ss about club football. Honestly.)

This is the dark side of Glasgow life.

Twitching

Following Friday's unfortunate stroll, I decided I should probably take things easy. What brought it home? It was possibly the fact that when I passed out on Friday, I narrowly escaped having my forehead cut open thanks to broken glass lying on the ground. This time I was lucky and as for next time .. there will not be a next time. I'll be taking things very, very easy from now on. No more marathon computer sessions, no more computer games and I'll try very hard to squeeze as much sleep into my day as I possibly can.

I'm thirty-two, intelligent, out-going and occasionally I'm witty too. And some days I can't even manage the five-minute walk up to the local supermarket. I have no idea what on earth is wrong with me and I am seemingly stuck in a slightly chaotic health care system (apologies to all Britons, but my experience of UK vs Danish heath care definitely gives the Danish heath care system the upper hand - and I've had some pretty dire experiences with Danish doctors in my time). Right now I feel as though my doctor is expecting me to give her a diagnosis - not the other way around. It's quite, quite frustrating.

Also, I am suffering from cabin fever. Know what it's like being stuck in bed with a cold for a week? Try imagining yourself stuck in that situation for a few months. I've begun knitting. Don't get me wrong, I really enjoy it but I knit whilst watching Crufts, for heaven's sake. And I wear slippers an awful lot. It is as though my life has decided to skip straight to me being eighty-four.

Good things:
+ A worrying family situation has improved.
+ Other Half has taken up making ice-cream. He is very good at this.
+ Friends and family send me beautiful, beautiful yarn.
+ Doctor Who is back on TV! AND the Ofishul Doctor Who exhibition is coming to Glasgow next year!
+ Elbow's latest album, The Seldom Seen Kid makes me beam.
+ And the daffodils are in bloom, so even if I end up with my face flat on the ground, I can look at pretty things.

Bad Things Not Mentioned Thus Far:
+ I try to knit fingerless gloves for Other Half (using organic Scottish wool - locally sourced too - gosh, I'm such a Guardian reader, am I not?) but I end up hating every thing I knit and frog it mercilessly. Grrr..

On Parcels Expected And Unexpected

Isn't that just pretty?

My Canadian friend, Fearthainn, wrote to me asking for my snail mail when she realised that a) I had rediscovering crocheting and knitting and b) I had fallen ill.

And she has just sent me the most beautiful handspun yarn I have ever seen in my life. Yes, she is a yarn-spinner and a knitter and I'm a bit in awe. I have no idea what I'll make from these skeins of beauty (the picture does not do them justice - trust me) but I'll be beaming like an utter fool whilst knitting. Thank you, C. It may be a small gesture for you, but it means a lot to me.

In other news, my postman might just be a tiny bit scared of me because these past few days I have been eyeing him somewhat obsessively. I pre-ordered the new Philip Pullman from Amazon on March 23. Now I may have mixed up the dates slightly and have been looking forward to the book arriving as early as Tuesday (it's published today, Thursday), so apologies to the postie .. but it also turns out that a certain net-based bookseller has f'd up and I won't get my book until, er, Monday. Do you think if I scare my postman even more, he might be inclined to find the book parcel for me personally and bring it to me sooner than that?

Yes, I know there are bookshops in Glasgow and they'll have it in stock .. but I'm house-bound right now due to me being slightly too active earlier on this week. Boo. Hiss.

At least I have Radiohead playing live on the Beeb streaming through the speakers and so the world's okay and everything is in its right place. Except my book. Which should be in my hand.

Saving Our Botanics

The Glasgow Botanic Garden is a treasure grove of abandoned Victorian buildings, rose gardens, playing grounds, medicinal plant beds, squirrels chasing squirrels and big glasshouses filled to the brim with exotic plants. For some unfathomable reason, a property developer has decided that it would be a really fantastic idea to put a nightclub in the middle of this. And for an even more unfathomable reason, the idea has actually made it to the City Council.

Quite apart from the fact that the Botanics provide a wonderful gateway to the River Kelvin, that they are a real haven in the midst of the very busy West End and that you already have numerous nightclubs in the area, the suggested site is the abandoned railway station dating back to the late 19th century.

The railway station lies underground and its platforms are only visible in glimpses - magical, wildly absurd glimpses - and in order to redevelop it, a large portion of the Botanics would need to be disturbed. A protected species of bats live in the rail way tunnels. They will lose their habitat.

So, today we went to the Botanics, were handed small flags staking a claim to the Botanics and planted our flags in the wet, muddy place that might just turn into a nightclub. The organisers had managed to gather a huge crowd, the sun came out just in time for the news cameras and children played among the daffodils. I'm a firm believer in ordinary people being able to use our voice to change things. I hope our voice will be heard.

Save Our Botanics // More than 1,000 people gather in the Botanics // Botanics protest held in West End

No Electricity, But Much Excitement

We went to the hospital today for a long-awaited appointment. I have been undergoing epilepsy tests but they came out negative. No abnormal electrical currents or any abnormal brain structures - I'm relieved that I'm not dying of a brain tumour and I'm frustrated that I could not get a clear, concise answer to wtf is going on with me today. We're off to see my GP to find out what is next. Exciting times.

So, a compensation I was allowed to buy three skeins of very, fabulous, very expensive yarn. I am not sure if it is entirely healthy (for my bank account or my partner's sanity) to both suffer from bibliophilia and, er, yarn-philia?

Speaking of bibliophilia, one of my major interests is artists' books: the idea that the book is more than just a transparent medium but actually plays a major part in our understanding of texts (and thus the world) is very, very appealing to me. This year's Glasgow's International Art Festival caters to this interest of mine with the Glasgow International Artists Bookfair. It'll feature all sorts of books about books as well as actual artists' books and workshops on bookbinding etc. I'm so there. No surprise that I will also be found here looking very excited at this exhibition.

Glasgow is good to me.

Snapshot

Shop assistant at the bookshop (precisely, slowly): "You .. want discount .. on books, don't you? I can .. sign you up for .. discount on .. books. Give me your .. email address."

Later I met my partner by the door to the book shop. He too had been cajoled into signing up for their newsletter by a shop assistant doing the scary voice-thing. Gosh, what does the Borders chain do to their staff?