The melody for this one came to me in the Clyde Shopping Centre in Clydebank whilst waiting for a friend to come out of Poundland; one of life’s many blank moments which needed a bit of colouring in.  I could hear trumpets and thought it might make for a good mariachi number but Monterrey didn’t scan half as well as Montreal; and Montreal, well, that’s another story entirely, one from a time when it was Scotland’s turn to be immigrants.  I was still waiting outside Poundland when this realisation came to me, havering away to myself, harmless enough. The Clyde Centre is full of oddballs and I’m happy to say they have welcomed me as one of their own.

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