So, back in Glasgow after my London sojourns life got back to normal. I have had so much to do like getting the posters and flyers done for Edinburgh, getting the accommodation for the festival (£3,000 for a month people!) getting bills paid, being organised for the festival and dealing with my rotten ear infection.
I went up to see my dad, who is coping admirably since step mum’s death, I do worry about him. He is addicted to the Spotify music website! He is getting right into it and talks about it all the time!
Meanwhile on the home front Ashley is preparing to go to London for a bit and she had to graduate as well. She had organised all the graduation stuff herself, all I had to do was turn up and be a nice smiling mummy.
Ashley and her best mate Vikki were all excited and giggly in the back of the car as husband drove us through to the seaside town of Troon. It was bathed in sunshine and the beach was the backdrop to the concert hall where the ceremony was taking place.
We all had breakfast in Troon then Ashley went to get ‘robed’. We waited patiently outside the room and then there was my big girl dressed in her black cape with red sash hood and wearing her Jay-Z rapper hat on her big mane of hair.
The hall was teaming with people waiting to see their child graduate, but I didn’t care about them and just wanted to see my girl get up there! The bloody ceremony went on for ages, almost as long as her degree course. I listened to bla bla bla and me and Vikki just sat in the humid hall with camera’s poised. I was wishing that man who was dressed like a cross between a judge and a pantomime lion would shut the hell up and get this show on the road.
Finally the graduates started crossing the stage, bowing to get doffed with a black hat, have their hoods dropped across their shoulders and pick up their diploma thingy. I ran down to where the graduates were sitting in perfect rows and whispered to Ashley to turn back and smile as we were at the side of the stage where we would only see her back, and she said “Oh for the love of God piss off mum” her fellow students laughed at her.
But after about 4 million other students crossed the stage her name was finally called and she bent to get her head doffed, she got the hood over her shoulders, stood up and TURNED AND SMILED AT US then walked off getting her diploma and we caught it on camera! She was the only one to do so and it made me giggle out loud. It took me back to her first concert at school when she got up and sang “We don’t need no education” by Pink Floyd at five years old. That’s MY GIRL!
She then got back on her rapper hat and did the parade round the beach and the gents toilets outside the concert hall in Troon and the moment was over. I did shed a wee tear when I saw up there getting that diploma, I don’t know anyone in both our family history’s that even finished school properly never mind left University with a honours degree! My heart leapt in my chest and I am so proud of her.
Then on the train home whilst I was in full adoration mode she told me she had lost her passport yet again! I tried not to bite her face and just calmly said “it will be in your room darling”
She got home and under duress gutted her room out and was exhausted as the heat in Glasgow was oppressive, finally she pulled down the old bags in her wardrobe and in a black bag was an old teddy bear called popples, he has a pouch and on his back and yes…inside that pouch was her passport!
She has no idea how it got there and is still stressed as to why a teddy bear could possibly steal her identity. We all have come to the conclusion that she out it there for safekeeping and forgot where she put it.
So drama over and Ashley got the lecture about keeping her things safe and not panicking about stuff, you see she is really creative but rather disorganised in day to day life! Yet again mammy sat down and gave her the talk about closing her handbag, watching her receipts, making sure she has put her money in her purse and paying due attention to things before she skips gaily down a street with her things flying out of her pockets.
She glared at me, I continued to lecture and she stomped out of the room, dropping her IPod out of her pocket as she went.
So, back to me, I got up Friday morning at 7am to catch a BMI baby flight to East Midlands Airport as I am doing Jongleurs Nottingham for two nights and that was the only flight I could get. I was fucking tired and sleepy and the oppressive heat in Glasgow was killing us all. I literally peeled myself off the bed and headed with a sleepy husband driving me to Glasgow airport.
When I reached the check in the spotty youth told me it was £10 to check in.
“What?” I screeched.
Apparently the website where you book your flight does explain this in tiny obscure writing somewhere that if you don’t book online you have to pay £10 to check in at the airport. I was seething as I don’t see how some fuckwit checking your details on a computer can possibly cost £10, I was ready for cancelling the whole trip, but had to pay as I need to get to the gig.
As if that wasn’t bad enough when we landed in East Midlands the rain was battering down and BMI baby doesn’t own a concealed walkway to get you from the plane to the building (they should afford it the fucking money they charge) and I had to walk through pissing rain for about five minutes and the rain stuck my linen clothes to my skin. Then I had to get on a bus to Nottingham which took 45 minutes, yes, sitting there for all that time with wet clothes made me insane. Even my bra was wet.
Finally I arrived in Nottingham at 11am and it felt like I had just been through some evil punishment boot camp scenario. Luckily the hotel had a bed ready and I stripped and slept until five pm, and woke up to see Andy Murray stop being British and eventually revert to being a losing Scot, yet again.