with a freshly cut pink carnation in my hand.
They're about to close this area off to the public.
A visible police presence is in operation.
It looks like it might rain.
I was in Glasgow 365 days ago today.
It had started out as such a glorious summer's morning.
But, then again, don't they always?
It was aroundabout 10am when
the first assistant director had taken me to one side
and informed me that there had been
a multi-headed terrorist attack on the city I call home
(though she didn't use those exact words).
Myself and the other adults on set
were given strict instructions not to say anything
until all of the children's families had been contacted.
Inbetween takes, I was able to duck out
seruptitiously
to catch sketchy reports on the fuzzy TV in the gallery space.
It did little to quell the feelings of
anger, impotence
and (yes) fear tugging me this way and that.
At lunchtime, the number of casualties was stll unconfirmed.
Myself and Jack (the younger of the two boys in the cast),
distracted ourselves
from the 24-hour news channels by mixing together
Dr. Pepper and Irn Bru,
to create a new fizzy drink taste sensation
which we decided to name Dr. Bru. Or, if you prefer, Irn Pepper.
I miss those kids.
Nothing seemed to faze them.
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