We went to the supermarket today. No big deal: veg, milk, bits and pieces. The self-checkout queues were the shortest. All going well until the lady in the machine started on at us, 'the bag is too heavy for the bought items'. Course we started talking back, a touch frustrated 'We've done everything right.' Clearly we hadn't. People beginning to stack up behind us. The flesh-and-blood automatic checkout lady came to rescue us, resigned but polite, 'Please don't lean on the bag.' I'd been taking my weight with my elbow on an upright that holds the plastic bag handles.
Maybe there should be a script for the lady in the machine along the lines of 'Do you really want to buy a television?'
New Mill Male Voice Choir is partnering Huddersfield University Business School in a market research project. We have four youngsters beavering away on our behalf. They recently attended a rehearsal to run a focus group of six singers, looking at repertoire particularly. They gained the impression that male voice traditional music (hymns, operatic extracts etc) was still the core as far as we were concerned, but we were not averse to modern pieces. I met the students following the group event, 'After all', I said, 'we sing He Ain't Heavy by The Hollies.' Looks of stunned total mystery overcame the youngsters' faces. "Who are they?"
Earlier on during the Crabshakk evening, Joan asked us to buy some tickets. For charity, £500 prize, fill in the result of each of the Six Nations games, not the scores, just win, lose or draw. So I did a pretty pattern. Chris said, so may draws dad, that's not gonna happen. I had't thought it through. Big Dave had Wales to win last night at the Millennium Stadium. He's not going to get the prize, but somehow I don't think he cares.
Eerie Glasgow, mist over the Clyde
I went up to Glasgow overnight to help Chris, the pilot, move out of his flat, prior to his command training. Then Big Dave and Joan decided they would join us from Linlithgow. They were going to the SEC anyway to look round a caravan exhibition. Initially, Chris had booked us for 7.30pm into the Crabshakk, but this was moved forward to accommodate Big D and Joan. 'Yes we can do that' said Crabshakk, but you will be in the window sat on stools. Okay, so be it.
A beer in Lebowski's on Argylle St and Crabshakk, a small but great fish restaurant. Big Dave wants to eat the whole menu, but settles on squid, 'I want squid, but what sort?' The waiter, who has already gone away a couple of times while we decide, gives Big D a patient if resigned sigh, 'There are only two sorts on the menu, sir. Not much to choose from really'. Finally we had mussels and scallops to start, fish, chips, squid and some other stuff to continue. Good view out the front window and comfortable on stools.
8.15pm and Chris's phone rings, 'Hi there, this is Crabshakk. We wondered if you were going to take up your reservation.' We all turned to see the young lady in question on the phone behind the bar. We waved and smiled as Chris explained who these demented guys were in the window seats.