It’s a big world out there in the small world

April 15, 2024, 7:12 am , by Richard Lutz

By Richard Lutz

Yes, that above is a gaggle of mini penguins enjoying St Patrick’s Day.

They appeared along with other set pieces in nooks in an old wall near my Glasgow house. No one knows who designs the clay models, thinks up the ideas or even when they are exactly put in place. The unknown model maker is a kind of Penguin Banksy. Here’s another, a tribute to Mother’s Day:

And a third….those little guys dressed up for Easter:

The Penguins are fast becoming a noted destination. Little kids love them as they take to the Kelvin River Walkway that winds through the city. As do the stream of runners and dog walkers who stop to see what the latest show is about. The Penguin Wall seems to always have folks peeking into the crannies and corners to discover what our webbed friends are up to. Of course, it has its own newsfeed with near to 3000 followers:

A newspaper tracked down the mysterious model maker. He or she says there’s no real rhyme or reason when a new tableau appears. They just evolve. There’s a small problem with some of the penguins sometimes being nicked. But they get returned. Which is nice. Small and nice.

Here’s another thing that easily fits the same category that small is good. Next to our cottage on the Ayrshire coast, there’s an old church hall. Right on the other side of a low stone wall. On Friday evenings, when kids are bursting with energy after a week of school, maybe when the parents want to put their feet up before the weekend, there’s a guy who gathers the boys and girls together here.

One minute it’s all rural quiet. The next the air is filled with boys and girls kid shouting, shouting, shouting some more and simply running around the hall grounds.

I guess the organisers try games and projects. But the little children, I’d say no more than ten years old, just want to run and run and run. It’s a pleasure that fills the Friday evening air. It’s pure release, I guess, from teachers and big folks telling them What To Do and What Not To Do all the time. So, running around and around a building in the fading evening sun, in the evening wind and rain, is pure delight.

The best night was when, for some reason, a little boy about 6 or 7 was dropped off too early. We peeked out of the kitchen window which has a grandstand seat.

The kid didn’t wait for anyone. He knew the score.

He started running around and round by himself outside of the building, shouting and shouting and shouting. He was on automatic. He had no one to chase. He wasn’t chased by anyone. It must have been great to have all of the hall grounds to himself for a minute or two before the rest of The Shouters and Runners finally showed up. There’s no doubt about it: this Friday night bolt of pure rampant energy is music, just like birds chattering in the morning, just like waves and wind. It’s a pleasure.

Now, before I go, do I hear a last gasp of a plea for one, just one more, penguin appearance? Ok, here it is:

Yes, it’s the gang having a knees up, empty bottles strewn about after necking one too many, maybe lying down for a wee nap before stumbling home to an iceberg or an igloo after a liquid night out. Everyone’s got to have a break once in a while. Even clay penguins.