The Pogues, Live in Glasgow

Exams finished up this week and -- with a few days to kill before I return to the States -- I headed to Glasgow on Tuesday evening to see one of my favorite bands in concert.

If you're not familiar, The Pogues are an Irish folk-rock group from the '80s who have garnered a bit of a cult following in the U.S. over the past few decades. You might know them from their Christmas tune Fairytale of New York or, for those of my generation, for the song that plays during Jimmy McNulty's wake in the TV show The Wire.

Their lead singer, Shane MacGowan, is a bit of a cult hero in the folk-rock scene. His "defects of personality and his inconstant sobriety and hygiene" (that quote is actually about McNulty, but I think it fits aptly) have gotten him thrown out of the band several times over the years. The Manchester Evening News, in a review of a recent show, said of MacGowan: "The fans celebrate every appearance as another victory over the Grim Reaper, out of whose bony grasp MacGowan has been slipping for 30 years."

On Tuesday night, Shane was on stage and his usual slurring self, remembering just enough of the words to make the whole thing work. The band played through their 1985 record "Rum Sodomy & the Lash" in its entirety before playing a few other favorites. I was surprised by the age of crowd; there were far more 18-25s than there were 40-pluses, which you surely would not see at a U.S. show. Overall, it was an excellent show and a stomping good time, a great way to wrap up my time in Scotland.

One longer note from the show: Glasgow is well-known for its sectarian football rivalry, but I did not expect to see any of that at a seemingly neutral concert on a Tuesday night. Oh how wrong I was. The crowd was decked out in Celtic (the Catholic squad) gear, and there were even vendors selling football merchandise outside. Several times during breaks in the show, the crowd broke out in football-style Celtic chants, which was bewildering and a bit intimidating to an unknowing American observer. I should say that the prime chanters seemed to be the moshing young people in the front, but the older folks near me didn't appear to mind either. The fact that they are spilling over into non-football contexts suggests that these old tensions are still kicking over in Glasgow, and it seems like they're not going anywhere in the near future.

St. Andrews

My parents, sisters and girlfriend all came to visit, and we took a guided tour of Fife (the region in central Scotland north of Edinburgh and the Firth of Forth) ending in St. Andrews. There were great sights everywhere, but this photo by itself made the trip worth it. This is the famous Swilcan Bridge on the 18th fairway of the Old Course at St. Andrews, perhaps the most recognizable site in golf. I can vividly remember watching Tom Watson kiss the bridge in his last Open Championship at St. Andrews; it's moments like that one that make this place truly golf's mecca.

Looking over the St. Andrews links from the garden atop the pro shop. The Old Course is just one of numerous courses surrounding the town; if I remember correctly, these fairways are part of the Jubilee course.

The high altar of St. Andrews Cathedral, built in 1158 and a major pilgrimage site for several subsequent centuries. The cathedral fell into ruin in the 16th century, and only 2 1/2 walls remain. Mary, Audrey, Dad and Megan also made the photo.

Looking down the 'nave' of the cathedral from the altar. From this vantage you can really get a sense of the sheer size, which is very impressive for a 12th-century church.

R.I.P. Auld MacDonald

Dublin

Middlebury students in Dublin. Note our bad European haircuts.

The old library at Trinity College, where I stayed during my visit. The famous Book of Kells is housed here, but the library itself is worth seeing as well. In case you didn't get the classical influence on your own, they covered the walls in marble busts to help you out.

One of the many scenic buildings on the Trinity campus. Unfortunately I have forgotten its name.

The Spire of Dublin on O'Connell Street(or the Stiletto in the Ghetto, depending on who you ask). This is on the site of a former monument to Horatio Nelson, which the IRA blew up in 1966. There is a clear effort being made to establish secular symbols of the Irish people, and this monument (along with the harp, which is everywhere) is a great example of that.

The old General Post Office, epicenter of the 1916 Easter Rising. You can still see the marks of English shells in the columns out front.

I started my last day in Dublin with a full, homemade Irish breakfast. Having worked my way fully around the British Breakfast trifecta (English, Scottish, Irish), I think I can safely say the Scots have won me over. The haggis really does make a difference.