DavieCooper.com Editor’s Blog

Summer’s glow bows to the sky, autumn winds chase the light – further, deeper, darker into the winding streets of Govan. We rise from the depths, riding an orange monster through the tunnels of gloom. Fried onions, Buckfast, scenting our trudge to the creaking turnstiles. Up we rise again, snaking through the steel and glass, laughing, moaning with our 90-minute friends. Our bodies framed against the blue plastic, straining at the garbled tannoy. Our heroes on green blades, toiling in the murky light. The weekend ritual of lost souls…

This entry was posted on Thursday, October 1st, 2009 at 6:55 pm and is filed under Editor's blog. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.