Being woken up by the sound of rain hammering down on the Velux window is never pleasant but on this occasion the fact that I wasn’t intending to cycle today made the pain more bearable. Our plan was to pick up our friend (and fellow archivist and embroiderer) Jean and drive peacefully up to Glasgow to see the Glasgow Boys art exhibition at the Kelvingrove Museum and Art Gallery, have a little light lunch at their superior cafe , meet daughter-in-law Clare and return satisfied both artistically, spiritually and in the stomach.
Things went smoothly so far…we picked up Jean and drove peacefully up the motorway, avoiding the worst of the rain while the signs warned us of downpours and floods. We were thus feeling on top of the world until we hit the traffic jam on the M8. Nearly an hour later, we left the M8 and found the traffic very light on the Great Western Road. Things were looking up. Going down Byres Road was not a good experience and when we finally got to Kelvingrove, it was obvious that we were not the only ones going to the exhibition today. The car park was full so I dropped the ladies at the entrance and left the museum and found a parking space not far away.
We had noticed a bit of a queue while I was dropping the ladies off. They were still in the queue when I returned having gone twice round the car park, back out into the street, found a space, bought a ticket and walked back to the art gallery.
After a while they came out to find me with the tickets. They had been told that they could rejoin the queue after they had had a meal as it was now too late to do the exhibition before eating. We went to the cafe. A kind lady told us it would be be twenty to twenty five minutes before we could get a table.
At this stage, the needs of the inner man took precedence over the wish for good food and we went out to the aptly named Al Fresco cafe and had a bacon roll and a cup of coffee in the brisk wind. Mercifully it was not raining. We rang Clare to tell her that the arrangements were off and went into the exhibition. This made everything worthwhile. There was another queue to get in but there were plenty of pictures and they were very interesting and often beautiful to look at and inside the exhibition the crowds were not too bad and it was possible to see the pictures.
After we came out, we got a cup of tea and a slice of cake without having to queue and then set off home. Owing to my ignorance of the best way to drive about Glasgow, I made a mistake at Charing Cross and ended up going round in circles round Renfrew Street for what seemed like a very long time before we finally found our way back to the motorway and home. Mrs Tootlepedal had bought a very reasonably priced framed print in the museum shop and the contemplation of this cheered her up considerably as we drove home through more rain and spray. Even with all the delays, we all agreed that it was a thoroughly worthwhile trip.
In the evening I went out archiving with Sandy (but not Jean, who by this time was having a little lie down) and enjoyed a couple of beers in the Douglas afterwards.