Entry for 24th May, 2008

MacDonalds. We all hate them don't we? We of the blog-reading classes? We despise globalisation; the supersize culture; the terrible waste.
Don't we?
Well, actually no. I quite like a MacDonalds from time to time. Sometimes it hits the spot. And frankly, on days when I am hungover, the MacDonalds vanilla milkshake is absolutely, positively, the only foodstuff that will rejuvinate my dehydrated cells and turn me once again into a young demigod bestriding Lanarkshire. Once more I can leap up Tinto Hill in a single stride.
I particularly like MacDonalds on the occasional mornings when I go to work in Wishaw. The traffic on the drive to Wishaw is appalling, so when I have to go I always leave really early, as I did this morning. And I like to sit and read the paper at 7.30am in MacDonalds. Just me, and the owner, who clearly has the work ethic that would leave Sir Alan Sugar's would-be apprentices panting for breath.
It is the only place in town that is open. And I like that. At that hour MacDonalds feels like what it actually is. An American diner. The coffee is hot. The bagels are tasty. The staff are polite. And you can watch the traffic hiss past as you prepare for the day ahead.