Beer Hall Republic, Glasgow.

I spent a magical afternoon here a few days ago. Magical because it is always great drinking in the afternoon during a week day. One gains a sense of freedom, no matter how often one is reminded that such escape is only temporary. It was magical because below street level there is hidden a treasure trove of world beers to be tasted and sampled.

It was magical because there works here an ozzy barmaid who is utterly beautiful and appeared to go by the name of Viper. Her name was magical, especially for an Australian but it was too good to be true..., when her shift ended the next barmaid also had the name of Viper on the reciept. No matter, she was helpful and friendly without being overbearing. She was also charming, partly because she had a very shy smile for someone so physically striking.

There was an array of Pizza. The Wild Boar and the Duck was particularly tastey. This was perfect beer food to soak up the alcohol and prepare for another round.

This is the type of place a great Russian writer might while away the daylight hours, dreaming of the next masterpeice while observing all around him. This is the kind of place cut away from throngs of everyday life. This was a place for busy contemplation.

It was snowing outside. Not that one needed an excuse to remain, tucked away undergrond below the streets in the centre of Glasgow. One could could easily remain here for years without getting bored. It was also a place full of forgetfulness. It was a place to forget the trival issues of everyday concerns.

I will remember to return one day.

St. Valentine's Day Blues

It is only right that single people respect this day as a special day - a day for couples to make a point in reminding each other of their love.

One could go on for thousands of words writing about how crass and commercial this day has become. The lovely dovey marketing of the marketeers, is like a waiter who has a wind problem at an intimate dinner date. There will always be those who seek a profit in what is beautiful.

This day can be difficult for single people though. For those whose love has passed away, betrayed them or simply been unable to love back, it can be heartbreaking. One can be reminded constantly about what is absent. The ultimate sin is for 'good intentioned' couples to try and give their single friends advice, as if they possessed some higher understanding of the Platonic sun.

The truth is that there is no secret formula. It is only possible to be connected to someone, when you recognize what is special and individual about them. Then there comes acceptance, which is really only the by-product of such a connection.

Still, for many single people this day can pass like any other. Individuals can be content in their own company and do not always crave company. Such singletons are blessed.

The Beauty of A.

I know a woman. She is beautiful. She likes to be reminded that she is beautiful. And by aknowledging her beauty, it is as if there is a connection, a sacred tie between her and I.

In her absence, I cannot comment on her beauty. Or if I do, by writing words down and trying to make things clear, I am only really commenting on my memory. I cannot smell her scent or taste the flavours of her company. The light that travelled between us, travelled light years ago.

In my absence, she has found herself a man. He can be with her and remind her of her beauty. There is no jealousy, just a joy tinged with sadness - for I know she can now be happy.

On the day that my mother left my father, I am still thinking of her.