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Another film one, though today was about more than just going to see the movie. Today was Hans’ last day in Glasgow, but it was fairly relaxed after a couple of days of trying to fit a ton of stuff in. Yesterday we caught a TV show recording, walked around the West End, interviewed a band, sampled some rather nice food (from “Kings” on Sauchiehall Street who aren’t on Google Maps) and went to a gig.

Today, we did some shopping, visited my work, enjoyed dinner with two of my colleagues and saw Spider-Man: Far From Home before heading to Buchanan Street to drop him off for his midnight bus to Birmingham.

I hope it’s not another six or seven years before I see him again…

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Hans wanted to see Edinburgh so… we went to Edinburgh. I was a little worried the kids might not be up to a huge amount of walking, but they were great for the 2-hour guided walk we did (free, donations accepted, courtesy of John of Little Fish. I’m more than happy to plug him and his company. He was a great guide; humourous, knowledgeable and just good fun. He engaged really well and managed to entertain and educate our small group. We bunged him a tip at the end – I hope it was enough!

On his recommendation we checked out the National Museum of Scotland and were really glad we did. It’s packed with stuff ranging from the specifically Scottish to specifically very much not Scottish to space to technology to natural history… We were there for approaching three hours. Suffice it to say that I was the only one who wasn’t asleep in the car on the way back after all the walking. Which is good as I was driving.

We lucked out on the weather and by getting there early on we even got free on-street parking all day (screw you, Glasgow City Council).

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An odd choice of “happy” picture today as it follows the news that my last remaining granny passed away yesterday evening. However, I choose to remember her from some years ago when she was still the Gran I looked forward to visiting; who put so many hours into working with Save The Children; who (poor sod) helped raise me for a few months when we were between houses; who prevented warfare between my cousin and I by painting the helmets of half the toy soldiers with white paint so we had a “set” each; and who could defy the laws of physics with the amount of butter she could soak into a slice of toast without causing the whole thing to turn into mush (seriously, there’s a PhD paper in there somewhere).

That Gran sadly hasn’t been around for a few years, and she has finally been granted the rest she deserved some time ago. 97 is a hell of an age, but sometimes that number can just be a millstone rather than a milestone. I still believe she was just too stubborn (a family trait as many will know) to shuffle off this mortal coil. I can picture Death stood there, hourglass running empty and Binky by his side clip-clopping impatiently, while she occasionally looks up from reruns of Coronation Street to say “Not yet – be patient.” He wouldn’t argue with her. I know I wouldn’t.

I feel that I said my goodbyes to my Granny Yvonne some time ago. I’m happy for her, knowing that she’s with my Grampa John again. I’m sure he’s missed her all these years.