No I don’t know either, but this IS Auld Ruggie and it may have something to do with Tracey Emin!
As you can see by the poster, this is the traditional day out for the weans, at least their parents will know where they are when they are out!
And here we have the wide open thoroughfares that have that smack of Chicago, Salem’s Lot or Elm Street
And talking of smack this is where you buy it. For full details see our appropriately named e-steamed poster
But of course no picture of the little hamlet is complete without The Town hall (suitably cropped to remove the flapping union flag)
But with a last look at …..’ The Bridge on the River …..WHY?’
….we must wave bye bye and so it is with a heavy heart, lighter wallet, a major whooppee that civilisation and sanity is sighted and regained. Fairwell Rutherglen I shall miss the 1930s fashions, varicose veins and demob posters….but I’ll be back ….with suitable injections this time. 🙂
Enematic's Blog 
Estadio …….you have effin had it.
How dare you besmirch Ruglen’s wee red lums.
Vogue
I walked into St Columbkilles and a big dug had a shite which I then stood in and went into orbit, landing in the stuff on my descent.
My mood was affected 🙂
Hail Hail
Matt
You should’ve offered it up for the holy souls
I don’t know about ‘holy’ souls, but it was all over my guttie soles
Hail hail
Matt
I had my first ever pint in Bobby Murdoch’s Bar, The Old(?) Spot, up near O’Leary’s. Spent money from my milk run. I was not yet 15 and got served.
Couldn’t go to The Glen cos that’s where my da drank.
Cathcart Tories, keeping Castlemilk dry, made a lot of money for Ruggie pubs.
SFTB
Me to mate,the Spot when 16 ,Tavern lounge a week later,then the Vogue for life(though I was barred for 2 weeks,when 16 , for giving cheek to barmaid)shameful ?????????? who cares :O) a long long time ago.
SFTB/Voguepunter
Took a break from the Europa cup when Pat Nevin appeared on my screen. Made a piece’n toast wae spam and mustard and a cup of tea.
My first pint was in Traynor’s bar in Coatbridge when we had to turn our school blazers inside out so as the badges weren’t visible ….in case the polis came in….which was a bit daft since half the tech department teachers were sittin with us.
Wee John Traynor introduced me to the fly killing properties of Sambuca. He used to leave the top of a bottle by the sink and claimed that the flies liked the smell, got drunk on the fumes and then fell in. He would pour a glass to prove it and there would be loads of dead (drunk) or dying flies.
Once I had learned everything there was to know about extreme fly-killing techniques I moved on to the Goric where the Coatbridge independent Catholic Marxist Comintern held its meetings and taught us all about The Albigensian Heresy and its lessons for a future independent socialist republic of Coatbridge.
It was about this time that I really discovered what women were for and my political revolutionary ambitions went the way of a stray fly in Traynors…..anyway that was exciting or what.
Hail hail
Matt
Hey bud hope you now realize I am not kojo lol. Kojo and his aliases are the kind of supporter that should be made to reform or be chased out of our club!
Well I don’t actually remember getting involved in a debate over who is or who is not kojo. In fact I don’t think that i have ever really worried too much about who is anyone on a blog. I am not even sure who I am most of the time and that is before I start up the computer, never mind when I don the mask of anonymity and the figure hugging semmit of the superhero. I spent most of this morning trying to memorise the alphabet backwards, not literally because that would be easy – ‘tebahpla eht’. I’m talking about ….’zyxw…………a’. The most difficult part is the ‘lkjih…..’ part.
Took me ages, but now I believe I may be right up there with the best reverse alphabet reciters that The Gorbals has ever produced, albeit that the basic skills were obviously learnt in my Coatbridge youth.
Hail hail
Matt
My brother drinks in the New Orleans when he is not in The Croft. Must arrange a Rutherglen session sometime and tell you about the sewage tunnel I helped build down on the banks of the Clyde on the old site of White’s chemicals.
During this summer student employment I nearly killed my da, my uncle developed a life long skin disease and I was cured of any aspirations of becoming a horny handed son of the soil.
Nostalgia, eh? Even the crap days were good as the Tremeloes sang in 67
SFTB
My mind is a bit dodgy at the moment. I have to have everything I eat either cold or cooked on a timer in case I either forget that I was cooking or have a sudden attack of something similar to narcolepsy. There is nothing worse than waking up and finding yer dinner on fire and Jeremy Kyle on the TV.
Anyway ….to the point…..weren’t tremeloes some kind of sweet? I know they were a band, but I’m sure there was a something that sounded the same that we knocked out of woolworths, or was it menzies?
hail hail
Matt
Estadio ,,Just asked the missus,her answer ……oddfellows???????
Wummin nae patter at all.stick to yir soaps.
I think that might have been a sardonic comment on us! 🙂
Can’t find any reference to Tremeloes as a sweet on any retro sweet site.
A contemporary group, The Searchers, had a song called “Sweets for my Sweet”. There was also a band called Sweet whose lead singer was Mark McManus’s cousin. He thought their music was “MUUUrrrdeeer”
As for Oddfellows, I was given a bottle of a Czech health liqueur which smelled of Oddfellows. The aforesaid brother finished it aff for me one night when no-one else would touch it. It was called Becherovka which was what he ended up shouting at passers by when he’d finished the bottle. He fits in well in Rutherglen.
I will have to explore this part of my brain which has to be fair started coming up with retro memories of things, events and even people that no-one can remember. Even my imaginary pal who has kept me safe and secure for so long has had enough of me and upped sticks and gone off with an imaginary girlfriend. Going out now to meet my imaginary sister and take some more imaginary pictures of Glasgow 🙂
Today it will be entitled Heart of Grass!
Oh BTW my younger brother (real) once brought me a black Vodka from Finland the local name of which fails me, but if my memory serves me right (aye right) translated as ‘black death’!
Hail hail
Matt