The other day, in Glasgow, I saw a morning roll tucked behind the windscreen wiper of a car. There seems something deeply Glaswegian about the act. Like a cone on Wellington, it is incongruous but relatable. There’s nothing arch or contrived about a cone on a duke or a morning roll under a windscreen wiper. It’s an anarchic but recognisable meeting of worlds. It is this genuine, unironic irreverence that more than anything defines this city. You cannae help but laugh.
Part of the wonder of this sight was its lack of context. One could do nothing but stand speechless in awe, like a Renaissance nobleman in front of a Da Vinci. But an image like this begs us to fill in the gaps. Here are 5 theories.
1) A remorseful traffic warden decided to make up for her harsh ticket with a soft roll. A fine is bad, so is skipping breakfast.
2) A protest. A battle cry to buy local? No buns here. Buy lovely fresh rolls you need every morning so your local shop can open every morning.
3) Random act of kindness from a carefree baker. Today this baker’s dozen will be only twelve as he gave one away for free. ‘The way this car’s parked implies stress, thought you could use it.’
4) An in-joke between a couple who had an awkward first date last night that was saved at the last minute by a heated but flirtatious debate about well fired rolls. The case for the prosecution providing Exhibit A, hoping to extend the trial.
5) A mourning roll, mourning the loss of somebody or something significant. What better way to mourn than with a soft comforting morning roll? Perhaps you could mourn the loss of your teeth from when you bit into a well fired roll.
Here’s tae Glesca!