Friday, 15 May 2009

Elvis cowboy boots, knocked off videos and a smell of frying.

The passing of the Glasgow Shopping Experience/Iconic Cultural Institution/Bypasser of financial trends and market forces/Rammy of a public midden* ends in tears, snotters and much gnashing of teeth today.

I have no strong feelings either way - it's a shitty eyesore, yes but it may - just may - help keep people on or below the poverty line from being hung out to dry.

What I do recall is trips their in my early teenage years with my dad - never alone, are you mental? This is Paddy's Market. I had to just point at potential purchases and shrug in a gesture through which I hoped to communicate my interest in ascertaining its price. Got some cracking bargains though; notably a pair of brown suede (!) cowboy boots around the time of the first Guns N' Roses comeback which I was sure made me look like W. Axl Rose. Or at least they imbued me with the spirit - I took to putting Jack Daniel's on my rice crispies and sporting white cycling shorts.

I also got a few of those wee storage boxes you don't see so much anymore (probably since you're not down at Paddy's - it's your fault (!) - to house my burgeoning collection of seven inch singles (by now featuring 'Thunder' 'Jagged Edge' 'Deaf School' and, of course, the great Feargal Sharkey (go on, pretend you didn't secretly enjoy "You Little Thief"). No more will untidy Glasgow children say "eh?" when mum or dad tell them their untidy bedroom is "like Paddy's Market on a busy day."

I couldn't, in all conscience, mourn its passing. Particularly now that the (always slightly) dodgy element seems to have become a full scale criminal underbelly (Recently it was branded a "crime ridden midden" by Glasgow City Council, who vowed to clean up the area.) As the plug is pulled that gurgling you'll hear is the indigestion of a generation...

*go on - you choose, double dare you...

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