A Lost Cause
Then there's the Scottish table. A group of regulars who like to recreate the ambience of a bar back home. This seems to involve a lot of shouting, swearing and belly laughter. Some evenings they manage to dominate until maybe 7:30, but the disco always wins in the end. That, and the impossibility of imagining Helga's Chickens decorating even a Soho nightclub, never mind a grot-hole in Wishaw. Still, they try.
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this week's favourites
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While My Renaissance Lute Gently Weeps. The title is shamelessly stolen from George Harrison and the lyrics are cobbled together by borrowin...
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I had just changed into my extreme hot weather walking kit and was on the point of going out when I thought I heard a cricket or cicada chir...
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Now, it might be pure coincidence, but a mere three weeks after the second visit to Qatar, in as many months, by the Irish International Alt...

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