Photo by Pascal Saez (c) EIBF

Special Day

Irvine Welsh

1991

It was a frozen day in March at Hampden Park, where I was heading to see Hibs play in the League Cup final. But I was coming from Miami, with a pair of sunglasses and a light t-shirt and jeans, and a plastic bag containing a thick fleece and jacket. I flew in Saturday night and was glad on the plastic bag and its contents when I disembarked on Sunday morning in Glasgow. I took a taxi into town. My UK mobile wasn't charged, so I had no way of contacting the boys on the bus coming through from Edinburgh.

It was a typical cold and driech winter Glasgow Sunday morning, and everything was shut. I had time to kill and decided that the best way to get re-orientated was to walk towards Hampden. I crossed the Clyde and headed south, stopping at a MacDonald's for the first time in years, drinking a coffee. It had started to snow heavily. I had just come from 90 degree heat and I was feeling the absence of every one of them. That sicky jetlagged feeling hit me hard; like being on drugs but without the buzz. ... (continues)