Lorna Hunter

The day many never thought would happen is finally here - my thank you post to Lorna.

The official reason (not excuse) for not writing one sooner is that I didn't have a photo of her to accompany the glorious tribute, but some handiwork with my scanner a few minutes ago means I now have one at my disposal. Erm, this one. I did have another one but I gave it to Andy about 2 years ago to scan for me and never saw it again. I shudder to think what's happened to it....

But I digress. "Who is Lorna Hunter?", I hear you cry. Well, at least those of you who haven't been fortunate enough to meet the young lady yet. The photo is actually from Optimo about 2 and a half years ago, although it's debatable that anyone else who was there at the time remembers much of the evening whatsoever.

I first met Lorna on July the 10th, 2000. Which by now is a long, long time ago. Fresh from my graduation the previous Friday, I was taking my first faltering steps into the world of full-time work. The time and effort I had spent applying for countless graduate positions had paid off handsomely, and I had secured a coveted place with Lloyds TSB, working in their call centre for £5.50 an hour. Thankfully there were other normal people who were equally blase about getting a job (about 4 of us - the rest were all a bit weird - Lorna, this will only mean something to you, but Stef? Jeez.)

I didn't actually become friendly with Lorna straight away, as she had begun the job along with three of her uni mates (they were all planning on ditching it after a few months to go travelling), so I hung out with Mhairi the first few days - an equally lovely girl but one who hasn't sponsored me.

Lorna and I were put on the same team when we started, and it was through the long boring hours of Sunday shifts that we became friends. I think I would have gone completely crazy during those days, listening to Grannies trying to access the internet via their kettle whilst knowing my mates were still going from the night before, had it not been for the serene presence of Ms Hunter. She also had the coolest car imaginable - a purple restored VW Beetle - and I still remember when my heart leapt when she first offered me a lift home in it. As we chugged up the 45 degree incline of Gardner Street that first evening, I felt my chest swell with pride as neighbours' curtains twitched frantically....

"Shug! Shug! Cum'ere! That lanky Irish streak of pish fae nummer ferty six is in a car! Wae a bonnie lassie! Ah always thought he wis buftie, no?"

Thank God for Glasgow's antiquated public transport, which closed at 5pm on a Sunday.

Alas, Lorna pissed off to Australia after a mere few months, returning just before I myself made good my escape to the other side of the world; this combined with me not moving back to Glasgow means that inevitably we haven't seen much of each other over the last few years. Very pleasing, however, to see that she got rid of that bloke with the flouncy barnet and fake tan and is now living a life of blissful domestic contentment with Donny, whilst spreading her own personal rays of sunshine to the less fortunate members of Glasgow's community through her work as an Occupational Therapist. I'm sure some of the "less mentally firm" of her congregation must mistake her for an angel as she floats into their lives - I am marginally less insane but would concur fully with their deduction.

She is one of the people on "the list" when I return to Glasgow - one of those who, if I don't get a chance to catch up with them, it'll cloud the rest of the trip. She is even more guaranteed to have me harranguing her to meet for a pint from now on, as she has joined an elite group in my heart - she has sponsored both me, for my 10K last year, and my mum, for her impending trip to Kenya (she leaves on bloody Saturday! How did that happen?!).

Your generosity and loveliness know no bounds and I am glad I got a shit job straight from uni.

Toaster* x.

*before you ask - I have no idea.