Snappy snaps of the distant past

Well, sortof. I wish to share with you the photo saga of a day in the life of Cabbage (subtitled A Slug of UG). A couple of Thursdays ago I thought I’d bring Ben’s camera along to school and see what kind of pictures come out. Fuzzy ones, let me tell you. This is just a sliver of my travels too and fro, hopefully the captions will tell you everything you need to know. And just to add some spice to your pepper, I’ve organized the photos to a poem by Robert Louis Stevenson, one of the gentlemen whom I’ve been studying in Scottish Lit this semester (oh pardon, I mean one of the gentlepeople – lets be politically correct in our saga). I would recommend reading through just the titles first, to get the poetry.

So enjoy…

if you dare.

The Wind Blew Shrill And Smart

by Robert Louis Stevenson

The wind blew shrill and smart,

A wind of bacon usually greets
me at 8:30 breakfast, thanks mom.

And the wind awoke my heart

my absoulte favorite view each morning
from the station, special even in the grayness

Again to go a-sailing o'er the sea.

the bus sailing along, my first form of transportation

To hear the cordage moan

These days on the bus route it's
traffic lights that make us moan,
I haven't noticed any cordage anywhere...

And the straining timbers groan,

Now this picture was deliberatly fuzzy. Whenever the
bus is late I have to run to the train station, so here I'm

definitely straining my timbers.

And to see the flying pennon lie a-lee.

Coatdyke Train Station with the
08:59 pulling in

O sailor of the fleet,

This dude isn't feeling very fleet!
I felt sorry for him nodding off like he did, but
not sorry enough to keep from taking his picture. :P

It is time to stir the feet!

My train ride ends in Partick Station, Glasgow
where I head down 2 stories...

It's time to man the dingy and to row!

to the subway

It's lay your hand in mine

this is it, folks - Glasgow West End in a nutshell
coffee, chatting, smoaking, and Greggs

And it's empty down the wine,

no, that isn't a glass in my hand
What I really need before Scottish Literature class
is a big Mountain Dew.
Hey, at least I'm here.

And it's drain a health to death before we go!

This is Hugh
he wrote poems
He watches over us every Friday
and his head's on fire.
Fear the Hugh. Fear.

To death, my lads, we sail;

I rather like my wee pack lunches
but I do agree that there's somethng morbid
in the peals of a halved banana
Oh well, sail away, sail away, sail away...

And it's death that blows the gale

I'll never forget the professor who told me
"Go behind the Adams Smith building,
You'll recognize it because it looks like the Gaza Strip!"
::snort: There's always construction around U of G
and diverting our attention to posters doesn't really help.

And death that holds the tiller as we ride.

as we ride... downtown?
A view of south campus

For he's the king of all

Jack doesn't like pictures, so here he is.
He might be considered the king of our theatre
'cause he's usually brilliant ...
if he weren't so sleepy. Poor Jack.

In the tempest and the squall,

No, no squall in the Partick station again,
just a Cabbage rolling off the escalator

And the ruler of the Ocean wild and wide!

A last view of the uni from the train

Well, that's the last of the poem, but here are a few more pictures from the day.

Some shots from the steps of the Department of Scottish Lit





And one picture boldly taken during lit class. Apparently the paintings around the wall are ment to inspire us to greatness at 10 am in the morning.
If you call Hugh MacDiarmid's flaming head an inspiration you must be hard core Scot Lit!