They Come Around


The Scotia Bar

ah, September night

where pints and amber nectar

fuelled affection

fires lit from Canada to Scotland

unhurried hurry to embrace

the shortest time

and make it last

to savour every morsel

from the menu

save reflections

ponder why and how


the heartbreak

of that recent chance lost

such dejection

not without its benefits

no bitterness in ale drunk

the cause not ceased 

we drew upon

the voices shared

the meanings

of connection

ah, September night

we’ll sing again


every vowel

in our song

September nights

they are not ever gone

they come around

In the midst of my quiet exuberance, and later celebration, I was reminded that it was one year ago that I met with one of my amazing blogging buddies, Cole, here in the real life.

I’ve made some wonderful connections in blogland and have, in the past, wondered whether the connection I feel, among those I count as friends here, would be the same if actually met.

The answer is, yes.

Remarkably, wonderfully so.

We people are real.

Maybe, one day, we’ll all meet in The Scotia Bar and grow those connections over a jar or two and take it from there. Slainte!

20 thoughts on “They Come Around”

  1. Here I was, trying to actually finish up a post, and now you have me sobbing.

    So lovely- and fully reciprocated (although never as articulately), A-M. I long for the Scotia (and the Grey Friars, after- that band!), and the never-ending continuation of our chats.

    I remember Frank saying to me that he suggested that there might be a chance that we wouldn’t get on, in person. And that you answered that there was little fear of that. How right you were. From the moment you walked into the hotel lobby… I think neither of us shut our mouths for more than the time it took to eat/drink/listen to what the other was saying.

    It was the best-possible start to my discovery of Scotland. My love of the country started in earnest with your exuberant and sincere welcome. Real, indeed.

    Again. Soon. xoxo

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    1. Aw, Cole, you have me weeping. That night held comfort in the loss of what could have been . So much anticipation that was held, believed in, then lost. Then so much that was found. You made me see wider, further, deeper. As you always do. We will meet again and there will be no pressure of time. I’m thinking cabins in Canada or cottage in the Highlands. Some wine, a beer or two, a hauf and chat that never ends. Because kindred souls are kindred souls no matter where or when. September really does come around. We will have another. Of that I have no doubt. Love you, missus.x

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      1. Second night in a row you’ve brought tears to my eyes. I vote ‘yes’ to both those options- a cottage here and then one in the Highlands- I’d even stay in one of those yurt-things!
        Love you right back, missus. xo

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    1. We’ll meet yet, Paul. I envisage a celebration – Italian style – garlic, pasta – just so -interrupted chat – because that’s how we flow – some red biddy to ease digestion and a multitude of hugs for the gladness of knowing the connection. We’ll argue – because who ever completely agrees with another? – you’ll interrupt me because you have a point to make – I’ll interrupt you back because – I do that! – passions dictate the measure of the conversation – Italian style – Scottish style. And, with or without agreement on anything and/or everything we’ll be glad in the knowing – human style. A great night will be had. Your wife will shake her head, my husband will do likewise. Because he does. A lot! All the time! It’ll be a blast. It can be. Looking forward to that Nova Scotian/Nova Scotia night. And if time overtakes us? We will meet. There are stars waiting to greet us. And shake their heads – star style. 😉 Slainte! The time will come. I never doubt connection.x


    1. You are so very much included in that connection, Pam. It’s a weird and wonderful world that draws us so closely to be united across all nations. The pub calls! The chat! The laughter! The connection – so very – beyond my words.x

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