I heard about the secret of Glasgow’s Gold after starting an office junior job in the City Chambers back in ninety-seven. They called me a GS3, which they thought officious, but to me sounded like a grubby Vauxhall. My old da’ had seen an advert in the paper. He had retired from the council having worked in the museums, and retained a few connections.
“If you get in the cooncil, you could have a job for life son, and a decent pension.”
Quality da’ advice. Always dispensed from a sedentary position, sitting in his chair in our living room, smoking his pipe whilst listening to the radio or reading a book or newspaper.
