So I’m standing by the bus stops in Paisley outside the Piazza, and I’m wondering what the commotion is amongst a wee crowd gathered at the next stop along, and I realise all these folk are looking down and that there’s apparently someone on the ground in the middle of the scrum. And then someone calls something out, and then there’s a squeal, and a wee shocked “oooh” goes round like when a penalty misses the mark at the fitba, and I think me oh my and wonder if someone’s fallen over or having a fit or if there’s a fight or something…
But the circle looks wide, and it doesn’t look like there’s anybody doing anything to help. So naturally I panic a bit, go into superman mode and start pushing and elbowing my way through, much to the disgust of an old dear who gives me a good shove back and says “Haw, watch it ya clown, ah’m trying tae see here”. Unbelievable. And I eventually get near to the front just in time to see a guy kneel down on the pavement in front of a bemused lassie who seems upset, and then he’s slipping an engagement ring on her finger, and the wee crowd start applauding. And I realise that the squeal was because a seagull had done a big runny jobby down her jacket right as he’d started his proposal and that he’d valiantly done his best to wipe it up, but she seems to be over it now and folk are laughing and congratulating them as they walk away, and the wee couple look happy as Larry as they pile on the number 60 with their Iceland bags and ironing board.
And I can’t help but wonder… in years to come, when they sit down with the grandkids, will the memory of the overblown romantic gesture be in anyway spoiled by the fact she got shat on by a bird, or the fact he proposed beside a bin round the back of a bus stop in Paisley??