I woke with a startle. “Crap,” I impulsively vocalised. Had I missed my stop. The countryside around me was fairly nondescript and offered no clues. I looked around in a panic before sleepily noticing the screen at the end of the carriage which read “Next Stop: Glasgow Central,” it was at this point I chastised myself for my stupidity. Glasgow was a terminus! I’d literally have to be travelling backwards if I’d missed my stop and even then I figured someone went through the train to tidy up and check for sleeping passengers. It had been four hours since I’d changed at New Street. Despite the time I still preferred it to flying. A fair amount of work lay before me on my laptop.
I noticed the houses start to appear and soon enough a town was out my window. After a few minutes a sign whooshed past as we headed through a station. I was fairly sure I picked out the words “Motherwell”. So, I thought to myself, we’re over the border. Motherwell soon vanished and I could see a lake, or rather loch out in the distance. I took a moment to enjoy it before another town got in the way. Then more farm, then more town in increasing density until I figured I must be in Glasgow proper. I closed my laptop and put it away. I necked the dregs of my coffee, now thoroughly room temperature and put the thermos away. I stretched and felt various bones click. As the city built up I pulled myself to my feet and shuffled out from my table seat. The stick unfolded and landed with a thunk on the trains floor. I picked up my bag and slung it over my shoulder just in time for the brakes to apply and the Clyde to appear out the window.
I shuffled out into the atrium and stood by the door. I watched as the end of the station platform appeared out the door’s window, then finally signs saying “Glasgow Central” all bearing the white saltire on little rectangles of blue. Finally the strain stopped and I stepped out onto the platform. My legs were stiff from sitting and I hobbled up the platform towards the barriers. Damn near everyone overtook my but I wasn’t in a hurry. On all sides of the platform scaffolding was in place and the nearest two platforms or so were being divided off. I figured these would become the international platforms with little passport checks. I had my passport with me but only if I got ID’d. The barrier let me through easily and out I stepped into the Commonwealth of Scotland.. I checked the time on the departures board. Four Thirty three on the eigth of August 2017
It was at this point I realised quite how sleepy I was. It had been a long day and I still wasn’t done. I headed into a pub of one form or another and got a coke. I paid in British Pounds but got the change in Scottish ones. I looked at them, new, plasticy, like the fivers down south. Long the subject of hacky routines about legal currency I figured it soon should be, well it was already, but soon it’d be alone. It seemed familiar, not entirely unlike the old Scottish pounds I'd gotten on my honeymoon in the Orkneys. The queen was even on one side, while various Scottish vistas were on the other. . As I sat down I noticed there was a Telly showing BBC Scotland. I wondered to myself how long that channel would last. The government down south seemed vengeful and Davis would probably drop the axe on anything beyond international radio. Certainly not something specifically for a country that no longer paid the license fee. Or did they? I had no idea what things had been handed over to Holyrood and what was still being wrapped up in Westminster.
Not too surprisingly the screen was showing the Prime Minister. The slightly somewhat smug face of Alex Salmond being interview on some policy or another. The sound was off and I couldn’t be bothered to read the subtitles. I’d expected to see him in the news. He had dominated the news cycle both north and south of the border. While we’d gone through three Prime Ministers in three years he’d remained in place. First as transitional First Minister and now their very own PM. I sipped the coffee and checked my phone. There was the network, O2 Scotland. I couldn’t decide whether it was better to go now, during the transition or maybe come back later. When Scotland was fully Scotland and when we'd decided on the fucking referendum Davis had promised.