Fragment #70 - Surprise from France

I can’t help but thinking back at the moment when I came back to Glasgow a year and a half ago, and how I was very much thinking about why I would go back, why I would choose this place, of all the other possible places in the world.

They come because they believe in something beyond frontiers and cultural clashes. They come here, because they believe in hospitality, warmth, happiness. Music and tales. Traditions. Modernity as well. They come here because they believe in Scotland even more than the Scots do. They come here because they believe that being here, and being themselves, will make a difference.

I am reading through Charlie Collomb’s article about the foreigners living in our dear city. I feel like it reveals the open, humanly intelligent woman she is. In a way it was interesting to have told someone the motivations of myself first coming in Glasgow. Somehow, it was the moment to overlook for assessments, and it wasn’t disappointing, thank god. France seems to have not been as much left aside as I thought in the first place though: I am reading this very article at my sister’s flat. It’s a quiet Sunday afternoon, some Rolling Stones CD playing, grey March weather outside – Scottish “almostspring” is so rainy… Well just like Scottish weather always is. Sarah is sitting at the kitchen table with her own laptop, chatting on msn I guess. Sean went outside to meet up with some uni friends: something to do with revising for some presentation next week – and some football game at the pub involved too. And Jack and I are sitting side by side on the sofa, him reading some thriller book and I with my laptop on the knees, checking my emails. This article was a good surprise; it remembered me of this nice moment we had chatting with Charlie. She is a nice person, a bit older than I am and it felt good, like to be with a grown up who wouldn’t be either my mum or my boss… Just like a big sister. It’s good for once not be the older sister. It felt comforting. I don’t know how much she liked me, maybe it was just a good thing for the article, but what else?Anyway, I should just try and ask if she wants to meet again. What do I risk? If she doesn’t like me she will find an excuse. I start answering the email, saying how much I liked the article. At the end of it, I ask if she would have time for another Starbucks moment at some point during the week… Let’s try that. Send.

At this very moment, my phone rings. I look at it, utterly surprised. Well, this is sort of quick… I grab the phone on the side table, and stop stiff. I answer the call. “Maman. Comment vas-tu?” …

A few minutes later, back to big sister’s duty, I have to tell my wee sister that our dear mother we haven’t seen in months will be in Prestwick tomorrow afternoon, ready to get settled in Glasgow for an amount of time she was pretty vague about. I feel about as angry as I was when Sarah herself came to crash at my place a year ago. What the hell is wrong with this family?