Whit Ye Takin' Photies Of?

Decided to take an amble along the canal bank between Port Dundas and Firhill today. The weather was fine and I had taken a detour to see how the new basin that was being constructed next to the M8 near junction 16 was getting on. It's almost there and hopefully should be full of barges soon.

Not having been along this stretch of the canal in about a million years, I decided to avoid the dullness of my usual walk home and see what the Glasgow branch of the Forth and Clyde Canal had to offer. I made my way past the luxury flats at Port Dundas and round towards the usual group of casual fishermen and local amateur sunbathers you see on waterways in such weather conditions. I approached with some trepidation, but they seemed too absorbed in what they were doing to bother with my prescence. Further along I saw yet another fisherman. This chap had a bottle of Buckfast cooling in the canal water at the end of a piece of short rope. It was obvious he had to look after the sprogs while he was at it and his 'cheeky wee red' was a minor consolation. A bridge, some barges and some old cottages were next to catch my attention and it was here I finally understood fully what Clairwil has been through on a number of occassions in the past year. I was suddenly aware of this figure bounding towards me, almost jumping through it's arsehole to greet me. Her sexily exposed beer gut had barely stopped wobbling when she uttered the immortal words in the title of this post. The conversation went a bit like this.........

Her- Whit ye takin photies of?

Me- I was taking photo's of the boats.

Her- Why?, They're ugly things.

Me- Maybe they are, maybe they aren't, I dunno.........(not as ugly as you....)

Her- Are you a tourist passin' through? Yir no' fae roond here, are ye?

Me- Errr, yes I am, I live just down the road..........(Do I look like a fucking tourist ya whammer!?)

Her- Ye want tae take a photo of us? (gestures to other twats sitting on the canal bank)

Me- Er, nah, no point, you wouldn't see it anywhere.(No fuckin' chance, you think I came up here to take snapshots of drunken dobbers sitting on the canal bank?)

Her- (as I take my leave) Yer no' a photographer fur The Digger ur ye?

Me- Ahahaha!, Jesus Christ, no................(Even if I was, even two bit scandal rags have standards...........)

By the time I was at Firhill basin(in time to see a swan and her youngsters paddling by) I was still none the wiser as to exactly why I had been accosted. It's a new one on me i'm afraid. I'm that used to people just minding their own bloody business when i'm 'snapping'.

I had suggested to Clairwil that the reason she got hassled by idiots in the street for taking photo's was tied up in gender. I now realise this is utter bollocks. It's entirely tied up in where you take your photo's and the ratio of people in that area who are likely to regard someone taking photographs of things as being unfathomably strange.