I have had two different friends to stay recently, each of whom told me they were glad I was here to interpret the speech of shop assistants.  I have another couple of friends dropping in next week and they have been warned not to make such comments - for goodness sake this is the west of Glasgow it's hardly a strong accent.  The response of the latest was, 'yes, but you're half Scottish anyway.'  I'm not, not really, though my Mum periodically claims to be a Scot, and I'm told the SNP define a Scot as 'someone who chooses to live in Scotland' (does 'someone God sent/brought to Scotland' count?!).

Anyway, to my lovely Scots and Scottish (my Mum regularly reminds of the distinction 'people are Scots, things are Scottish' but it seems lost in much general speech) friends and neighbours I apologise for my sassenach friends.  Although I do know someone who tells me they can't always understand Estuary English and another who claims an inability to comprehend Geordies... maybe it evens out?

One of the amusing aspects of Monday's outing into the west end of Glasgow with my visiting friend was bumping into people I know through church... one member of the walking club, one carer from the toddler group, one church member.  My friend was quite surprised that I knew so many people.  It reminded me of a similar experience in Leicestershire, only that time was with someone from church with whom I went to a (local) Christian event.  I wouldn't really call myself a 'people person,' like a lot of minister types I am, according to Myers Briggs an 'I', and as an ISTJ evidently the perosnality type least suited to ministry.... (discuss!), but I do seem able to get along with most people, most of the time, and value the interaction enormously.

The older I get, the more it seems my world is just one big village, with people I bump into as we go about our everyday lives.  One of the folk I got to know in Leicester used to observe that 'strangers are just friends you haven't met yet' and she was great at chatting to new people who happened into her life.  One of the things I loved, once I got used to it, about the north west of England was the way total strangers would tell you their life stories at bus-stops or in shop queues, along with the custom of saying 'bye' to shop asssitants as you left (if you live in the midlde or south of England try it, it really confuses people!).  Glasgow is not disimilar - I often have brief conversations with strangers I meet at pedestrian crossings or in museums and I love it.  There is a sense of villageness, not in the 'everyone knows everything about you' of literal villages, but in the sense of a shared world with shared concerns.

I wonder how many familiar faces I will pass today and how many unfamiliar will belong to people who exchange a smile, a greeting, a grumble or an observation?