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terested in extremes of pinkness and purpleness. They're a nice, normal, busy family, but
they are slightly unusual in that Bruce is a diehard Rangers supporter and Yvonne is an
equally committed Celtic fan. (For a while there Ross wasn't entirely sure who to support
as long as it wasn't a bunch of losers like Morton, however, now he's a Celtic fan, and
Amy, having established that neither Old Firm strip features pink or purple, isn't particu-
larly interested.)
Bruce has very generously offered to drive us down to the match in Greenock and is
even going to come in to watch the game. For somebody used to watching Rangers, this
is definitely slumming it. Bruce has been to three or four Morton games and I think he
comes along partly out of basic palsolidarity, partly out of sympathy for us - we tend to
need all the support we can get - and partly, perhaps, the better to appreciate Rangers
when he sees them play. It's a telling contrast that can't help but flatter Rangers. Morton
and Rangers met a few years ago in a Cup game played at Love Street in Paisley, and
Bruce sportingly came with us into the Morton end. Morton did not disgrace themselves -
we were quite proud we only lost one-nil - but the difference in the teams was blatant. It
wasn't just the speed and the skills, either. It was sleekness. The Morton players, despite
being considerably more fit than any of us (Les and Bruce both run and cross train, Ray
plays five-a-side and I … don't), looked like raw, gawky schoolboys next to the Rangers
players; donkeys compared to thoroughbreds. Next to our guys, the Rangers team - big,
tanned, glowing, rippling with energy - looked like a different species. I understand that
the technical term is 'Athletes'.
I drive through to Glasgow in the Land Rover via the distilleries at Deanston, Loch
Lomond, Inverleven and Auchentoshan. It's actually rather a dull day for a change; clouds
in the sky, some greyness, even a few light showers. After all the fabulous weather re-
cently, this is positively refreshing. The roads I take constitute a kind of Sensible Route
Bypass (GWRs are often Sensible Route Bypasses given a less pejorative title). The Ex-
tremely Sensible Route from North Queensferry to Deanston, near Stirling, is to cross the
Forth Road Bridge and take the M9 to just south of Dunblane; the alternative Fairly Sens-
ible Route is to take the main road to Kincardine then head for Alloa and then Stirling.
Naturally I ignore these and take a variety of GWRs and WDRs (Wee Daft Roads) tak-
ing in the mellifluous delights of Coalsnaughton, Fishcross - ah! Romantic Fishcross! -
and Menstrie before trundling through Bridge of Allan and taking the long-time GWR to
Doune.
These are old stamping grounds for me; I walked all around this area when I was at
Stirling University between '72 and '75, roaming as far as Gartmorn dam east of Alloa
in one direction, and as far as Doune Castle in the other. I'd gone to Doune because I
heard the Python team were there doing some filming. There was nothing happening and
nobody about when I turned up one Sunday, but I did get to see the giant wooden Trojan
