On the Aestival Joys of the Liquid Lunch

During April, our usual cross-section chatter covered a variety of topics. Sci-fi writers meetings, holidaying in the island of Lesbos, and the cruel mistress that is the press accreditation process for overseas music festivals. What with the sun shining and all, the subject of picnics arose too. Being neither a West End luvvie nor a member of the Famous Five, I feel that I don't have much to contribute to 'Operation: Lashings of Ginger Ale'. Instead, the closest I get to something resembling a picnic is a lost weekend in Kelvingrove Park, where the order of the day is an overturned shopping trolley masquerading as a table, and high stake bets are placed on whether or not that bloke with the MD 20/20 will get lifted by two o'clock. The noon until six liquid lunch is still the sign of the beginning of summer, where a sea of humanity stakes claim to every inch of grass and pushes their low quality playlist through even lower quality portable speakers. Think also: frisbee related injuries, disposable barbequeue fires, and a mass exodus when the sun goes down led by the police who insist that "it's for your own safety". Surely, the finest inner city day trip Glasgow has to offer.