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Candia Comes Clean

~ Candid cultural comments from the Isles of Wonder

Tag Archives: Glasgow airport

She’s Leaving Home

16 Wednesday Sep 2015

Posted by Candia in Architecture, Community, Education, History, Home, Industries, Nostalgia, Personal, Poetry, Politics

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

Art Deco, Celestial City, Clyde, Clyde-built, dredgers, Dumbarton Rock, Flybe, Glasgow airport, Glasgow University, John the Baptist by Da Vinci, Kilpatrick Hills, Luftwaffe, Paisley, River Cart, Singer Factory, soor ploom, speug, Titan Crane

Yes, folks, I’m back.  Here’s a wee poem for you, describing my thoughts as

Flybe took me out of Glasgow Airport:

SHE’S LEAVING HOME 

Instead of a speug’s* view at ground level,

I have a skewed vista doon the watter.

There’s a lump in my throat like a Soor Ploom,

as my keen eye picks out Dumbarton Rock,

before the plane’s wing and cloud wisps obscure

the Ben and those Kilpatrick Hills – cradle

of my childhood.  The tributary Cart,

where mighty hulks dragged their chains,

buoyed up those liners that would cruise the world,

while dredgers kept the channel free of silt

and every vessel seemed to be Clyde-built.

A solitary crane marks the spot

where political tourniquets strangled

the life out of industry and population.

Patchwork fields look as if they have been stitched

into a quilt by a local giantess,

the boundaries hemmed in by Paisley thread,

before Singer stopped treadling out machines

and its Art Deco clock had its hands tied,

as the shriek of town sirens was stifled.

I see my house, my school, the High Flats,

where Luftwaffe rained down a thousand bombs,

before I saw the light of day.  Yon spire

of Glesca Uny soars toward the sky;

beckons to a Celestial City,

just like the finger of John the Baptist:

a pointer to a life outside the frame.

Education – the sky was the limit.

And now I can never come truly home.

Photo by Stephen Sweeney, Wikipaedia Commons

  • speug- a sparrow
  • * soor ploom- a sour plum-flavoured sweet

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You’ll Have Had Your Tea!

23 Tuesday Jul 2013

Posted by Candia in Arts, Film, Humour, Literature, News, Social Comment, Suttonford, Writing

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

44 Scotland Street, Abbotsinch, Alexander McCall Smith, Auld Reekie, Chris Hoy, creme de la creme, Gardez Loo!, Glasgow airport, Kelvinside, Miss Cranston's, Miss Jean Brodie, Morningside, Muriel Spark, Mussolini, Royal baby, Sauchiehall Street, Valvona and Crolla, Willow Tea Rooms

Valvona & Crolla, Edinburgh

Chlamydia and I were back at our favourite haunt, the

Costamuchamoulah must-seen cafe in High Street,

Suttonford.  It seemed a million miles away from genteel Edinburgh

and the trendy Valvona and Crolla Vincaffe in the New Town.  Still, the

topic of conversation might have been identical: both sets of clientele

commenting on the amazing precocity of the new, Royal and (as yet)

nameless babe, who managed to wave endearingly from the woolly depths

of his swaddling.

THE NAMELESS ONE: Lang may its lum reek!

********************************

“SANDY”

AlexanderMcCallSmith.jpg

Alexander McCall Smith may have made a fortune from weaving the foibles

and fancies of the inhabitants of 44 Scotland Street into a fictional web, but

I, Candia Dixon Stuart, am seeking a publisher for my observations on the

activities and lifestyle choices of Suttonford’s fairest inhabitants.

Yes, as I told Clammie, Edinburgh folks are generally well-mannered, and,

even the homeless bow their heads discreetly while begging on the streets.

I observed a grubby, long-bearded man who was carrying a 4xlitre carton of

semi-skimmed- for it had been purchased in health-conscious Auld Reekie.

Around 2:30pm, the aforesaid stopped in front of his acquaintance, the beggar

with his bull terrier, and frankly expostulated:

I would have thought you’d have retired for the day by now.

Clearly he was concerned that his friend had not had his tea.

Staffordshire Bull Terrier 600.jpg

But, as I explained to Clammie, I had also

visited Central Scotland’s other city.

GlasgowAirportFromAir.jpg

How different is the patois of the Glaswegian!  On landing at Abbotsinch, or

Glasgow airport to the less au fait, even as we were instructed that it was only

now permissible to unfasten our seatbelts, enthusiastic locals were leaping up

to open the overhead lockers, in readiness for a speedy disembarkation which

would have impressed Chris Hoy.

Original movie poster for the film The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie.jpg

I must have looked a little schoolmarmish, as the man who had been snoring

next to me for the duration, leapt up to reclaim his hand luggage, without any

apparent sign of chivalrous altruism.  But, judge not that ye be not judged; he

immediately looked down with Christian neighbourliness and regaled me with

this attentive interrogative:

Is that your hat ‘n that?

Aye, one has to look not on the outward appearance, but on the heart and,

rough quartzy Cairngorms though they have at their core, Kelvinside kindred

are just as likely, or perhaps more likely than the Morningside matrons, to

ensure that one will have had one’s refreshments, even if time is pressing

and there isn’t really time to linger:

You’ll surely take a wee moothfie a’ tea in your haun?

How disinhibited compared to the rather reserved partakers of creme de la

creme in the South’s Costamuchamoulah.  They probably think that Mussolini

is a shellfish starter and Gardez Loo! is a jardinage WC servicing the children’s

tree house and the gazebo.

Mussolini biografia.jpg

Ah, Miss Cranston’s Tea Rooms it isnae. Suttonford High Street will

never aspire to the drama of Sauchiehall Street and the Willow Tea

Rooms.

As one looks around, Muriel Sparks’ words come to mind:

Ah well, ..I often wonder if we [are] all characters in one of God’s dreams.

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Gangnam Style

03 Monday Dec 2012

Posted by Candia in Celebrities, Fashion, Humour, Suttonford, television

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

Bermuda crystals, Christingle, Donner and Blitzen, Gagnam style, Glasgow airport, Julien Macdonald, Lisa Riley, polenta cake, Sarah Lund, The Bank Of Dad

Carrie looked frazzled already as she ordered her medium frappucino with a hazelnut shot.  It was only the 3rd of December.

It’s a nightmare, she said, sticking a fork into our shared slice of polenta cake.  (We were trying to be disciplined, given the calorific onslaught about to be unleashed on us.) I’ve got ten to fit round our dining room table, she sighed.

But you usually have a dozen.

Ah, but Luca and Morag are not coming this year.  They said they were worried about potential burst pipes and being snowbound for the duration at Glasgow airport. Magda has been invited to Bric-a-Brac for a week, so we have managed to get a temporary carer for Gyles’ mother.  We are collecting the old girl mid-morning, in time for her matutinal Dewlap.

But doesn’t that make 11 for dinner? I asked.

Oh, we’re including Sonia as she is on her own.  She’s offered to bring a Christmas pudding.

Quite a crowd then.

Yes, I hope no one tramps on the pugs. Ginevra said that she had her first two cards today- from France.  One was from Ola and Jean-Paul.  Apparently she is pregnant.

That was quick work, I said.

Well, you know the French.. Anyway, Ola bought a lovely antique berceau in a vide grenier and is sewing the drapes and bedding for it.  The other card was from Victoria, Gyles’ sister.  She is still making a fortune out of renovating mirrors and de-worming old furniture.

Cards-huh! I exclaimed.  The queues are horrendous in the Post Office since they charge according to size, as well as weight.  No one knows how much to put on the envelopes.

I know.  Size matters.  Parcels are extortionate too. My mother sent us a huge one packed with hand-knitted sweaters for all the family- including the pugs.  Tiger will be thrilled as her grandma told me that she made her one in a Sarah Lund pattern.  The trouble was that I had to collect her card from the Post Office as she had put insufficient postage on it and so they charged me a pound.  I challenged it, but they pointed out that she had re-used a couple of stamps that had been unfranked and said that she could have been prosecuted.

Really? Well,, it’s more difficult to steam them off now that they’ve put those little flaps on them that tear when you try to peel them off, I commiserated.  But, talking of Tiger, I saw her with Scheherezade in A La Mode at the weekend.  I went in for a festive mince pie and a glass of bubbly and there they were, touching all the Julien Macdonald Budget line, based on ex-Strictly costumes.  The staff looked rather anxious as they were spreading icing sugar everywhere and touching all the Bermuda crystals.

Controversial: Fashion designer Julien Macdonald, a judge on Britain's Next Top Model, has branded plus-size models 'ridiculous'

Oh, The Bank of Dad gave them an advance based on their grandparents’ forthcoming Christmas cheques.  They wanted tulle illusions to wear to the end of term party.

Will they be allowed?

Yes. Even the teachers have been in and cleared them out of some lines. The Lisa Riley numbers for the fuller figure went first, but not the yellow ones.  It’s a difficult colour.  Tiger and Sherry spied on the staff at lunchtime and saw them rehearsing a big gangnam number, which was supposed to be a surprise for the kids.

Hey! I reckon we are the sexy ladies, the classy girls who know how to enjoy the freedom of a cup of coffee! I remarked, rolling my wrists around in that ridiculous way, as if I was heading down the local bridleways at a gallop.

Aren’t those the lyrics of the song?  

Yes, but I don’t see any ‘cool guys who one-shot their coffee before it cools’, I added, looking around Costamuchamoulah’s clientele.  Actually, it’s a pity that the lyrics don’t influence the girls to cover themselves, to look more sexy than ‘the girls who bare all.’

I agree.  You’d think that the freezing temperatures would encourage them to don some thermals under the flounces and furbelows.  Ugg boots and netting have never done it for me.  Well, must dash to Tesco’s before they run out of oranges for the Christingle service.  Did you want to come over on Christmas afternoon, if you and your husband are going to be on your own?

Thank you, no.  You know what he’s like.  The last drinks party we went to he muttered to me:  I’m a nonentity-get me out of here! I licked the last of the polenta crumbs off the knife.

 Okay!  See you then. Must get a bottle from Pop My Cork! for the boys’ form teacher.  Ciao!  And off she went, dashing into the street like Donner und Blitzen.

.

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My name is Candia. Its initial consonant alliterates with “cow” and there are connotations with the adjective “candid.” I started writing this blog in the summer of 2012 and focused on satire at the start.

Interspersed was ironic news comment, reviews and poetry.

Over the years I have won some international poetry competitions and have published in reputable small presses, as well as reviewing and reading alongside well- established poets. I wrote under my own name then, but Candia has taken me over as an online persona. Having brought out a serious anthology last year called 'Its Own Place' which features poetry of an epiphanal nature, I was able to take part in an Arts and Spirituality series of lectures in Winchester in 2016.

Lately I have been experimenting with boussekusekeika, sestinas, rhyme royale, villanelles and other forms. I am exploring Japanese themes at the moment, my interest having been re-ignited by the recent re-evaluations of Hokusai.

Thank you to all my committed followers whose loyalty has encouraged me to keep writing. It has been exciting to meet some of you in the flesh- in venues as far flung as Melbourne and Sydney!

Copyright Notice

© Candia Dixon Stuart and Candiacomesclean.wordpress.com, 2012-2013. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Candia Dixon Stuart and candiacomesclean.wordpress.com with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

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