Dave and The Glasgow Punter

Walking along in the sunshine in Glasgow I notice a free exhibition in Langside Library. I'll pop in for a few moments to have a look. Turns out it's a celebration of Science Fiction writing.

I'm standing admiring the Dr Who installation when a Glasgow punter comes up and asks me:

"Are you a Dr Who fan? I love Dr Who me."

"I have watched it"

"Aye but you're a science fiction fan. I love science fiction me."

"I read some science fiction."

Despite this unenthusiastic response he invites me for a pint so we can talk enthusiastically about our shared passion. I rarely refuse an opportunity to socialise even though I find this guy slightly odd so off we go. 

We spend the rest of the afternoon in the pub. Glasgow punter tells me his sob story about how his girl friend has just left him that morning. I feel the need to stay and commiserate with him until I become quite inebriated. Having had too much to drink and in desperate need of food he invites me to his flat for dinner which I accept. 

We arrive at his modest bedsit with cooker and bed in close proximity. He puts a large pot of spaghetti bolognaise on the ring to reheat.

"Were you expecting dinner guests? I ask in surprise at his readiness to entertain.

"No. My girlfriend made this for me before she left this morning. She's Italian"

"How considerate. A girl friend that dumps you but is concerned that you still eat well in her absence!"

"Oh aye. She loves me, just can't live with me."

Glasgow punter produces a bottle of red wine to have with the meal and it gets very late.

"You can crash here tonight if you want. I've got a blow up bed." 

Being slightly the worse for wear I accept. As I settle down on his floor I wonder if I will still  be alive tomorrow. I'm thinking I don't know who this guy is or what his motives were for picking me up when sleep overtakes me.

I am awoken with a cheery "Good morning! Did you sleep well? "I'll need to get going. I've got work this morning."

A mug of hot coffee and a bacon roll are thrust into my hand.

I finish my breakfast, thank him for his hospitality and take my leave.

What a strange day. Did he ever tell me his name?