Glasgow by Motorhome
George Square, Glasgow.
The square was named after George III a statue of whom was originally intended to occupy the centre of the square, but the turmoil and anxiety caused to the city’s Tobacco Lords, by the War of American Independence in 1775 and eventual British defeat in 1783. This, coupled with George’s ever more frequent bouts of madness, had created mixed feelings toward the Hanoverian and so it was decided instead to commemorate Sir Walter Scott, which, incidentally, was the first ever memorial dedicated to him.
The Duke of Wellington.
The Duke of Wellington was an Anglo Irish general victorious at the Battle of Waterloo. In 1808 he assumed control of the allied forces, forcing the occupying French to withdraw from Spain.
When Napoleon abdicated he returned home a hero, earning the nickname of the Iron Duke, after erecting iron shutters on his windows to prevent them being smashed by angry crowds.
Thirsting to extend the vast expanse of emptiness within his brain, Francie was asking Josie a question;
‘Josie, wis that guy, Wellington, really famous?’ he enquired.
‘Francie, I take it that ye’ve directed that particular question in my direction, knowin’ fair well that yer big pal Josie will know the answer,’ said Josie.
‘Sure, Josie, sure, Josie,’ Francie said.
‘Well, Francie, the big guy on the hoarse wis very very famous, he was the first double glazin’ salesman in the country, but yer windies werenae yon rubbishy plastic things. They were made oot o’ iron, Francie, ye know? That’s why they called him the Iron Duke, Francie, ye know?’ said Josie.
‘Sure, Josie, sure, Josie, the Iron Duke, Josie,’ said Francie.
Glasgow Kelvingrove Art Galleries and Museum.
The motorhomers had arrived at the Art Galleries and Phemie and Jessie were having none of it;
‘Aye, ye two eejits can go and bust yer guts on a’ yon stairs. We’ll jist wait in the cafeteria for ye tae come back. That’s tellin’ them, Phemie, isn’t it?’ said Jessie.
‘Sure, Jessie, sure, Jessie,’ said Phemie.
The lads sauntered off carrying a bundle of information leaflets.
They stopped at the painting of the crucifixtion;
‘Josie, that Dali wis a terrific painter!’ exclaimed Francie.
‘Francie, ye’ve suddenly awakened my interest, am I aboot tae be enlightened by the brilliance o’ yer dullness? So ye know somethin’ aboot Dali, tell me, Francie,’ said Josie.
‘Sure, Josie, sure, Josie,’ said Francie. ‘Him and me worked thegither as painters wi’ the Coonty Cooncil. He could paint yer bedroom ceilin’ in a hauf o’ an hoor. It only took him three quarters o’ an hoor for two coats. He wis magic, Josie,’ said Francie.
‘Och, Francie, Francie, that wee peep o’ gas that I thought I had detected has gone oot. That wis wee Jimmy Daly, Francie, no’ bliddy Dali. Dae ye know whit I mean, Francie?’ asked Josie.
‘Sure, Josie, sure, Josie,’ Francie said.
You may enjoy reading the Adventures of Francie and Josie.
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