This is where I was today, on my way to the Society of Authors Christmas lunch. I was early so I spent an hour exploring the GoMA. Glasgow does libraries & museums like no other city. Down-to-earth, relevant and for the people as opposed to the “establishment”. There was an exhibition called Hear Our Voice about violence against women. It made me very reflective and took me right outside my comfort zone.
Had an Earl Grey down in the library after & studied a figure slumped on a sofa, his hood up like a statue. Wondered for a minute if I was the only one who could see him! He was so absolutely still! Eventually he moved his head, but when I wasn’t looking at him. Felt inclined to store it for future use! Lots of possibilities there. I always say in my talks that writers don’t so much answer questions; they ask them. So there you go, a living mystery, sitting there in the GoMA and I still have no answers.
Wandered round the art gallery and had to fight off the usual childish urge to touch all the exhibits. What is it about galleries that makes you feel like a naughty school-child at times, being watched severely by the security guards, as if they know that you just want to run about and misbehave? But we’re all adults, of course, so we don’t do that.
Met some lovely people @ the lunch, but suffered a bizarre moment with an anon elderly gentleman who kept insisting that my father couldn’t possibly have been an engineer because it’s an over-used term apparently. I assured him that my father definitely was. Then I did a runner to another table where I could hear peals of laughter and where they looked like they were having more fun.