Last night I went to the Paisley Town Hall to seeNina Conti - an acclaimed ventriloquist.
Ventriloquism— the art of speaking without moving your lips while giving voice to a puppet or character — is an extremely rare skill, with only 16 actively registered professionals in the UK.
The evening began with three Scottish comedians. The first, who was also the host, spent a bit too much time teasing the women in the front row.
One piece of advice to anyone attending shows like this: be careful where you sit. The front rows are a guarantee that at least one comedian will try to involve you, tease you, or interrogate you about your life.
When Nina Conti came on, she opened with her classic monkey puppet and began chatting to the audience, improvising wildly. The monkey made increasingly cheeky comments while she bounced flawlessly between voices — the kind of quick, sharp wit that reminds you why she’s a master of her craft.
Then came the masks. She invited members of the audience onto the stage, fitted them with cartoonish, moving mouth pieces, and effectively turned them into her life-sized puppets. The combination of physical comedy, improvised dialogue, and ventriloquism was hysterical. She even gave the masked “characters” Scottish accents!
Paisley Town Hall is absolutely beautiful — ornate, atmospheric, and a perfect backdrop for a comedy evening. A charming detail: Nina shared that her grandfather was from Paisley, and once had a barbershop in the town.
Despite the uneven warm-up acts, I had a fantastic night. My only real complaint? Her performance was only 30 minutes, which felt far too short. While ventriloquism is undoubtedly demanding, her set could easily have been extended to 45 minutes, giving the audience the full experience they came for. I hope that next time, Nina Conti & Friendstruly means the ventriloquist with her puppets — not a chaotic host with mixed-level comedians to start with — so that she gets the time and attention she deserves.
Yesterday I went to Glasgow. It was a lovely evening until the journey home turned unexpectedly difficult.
My train back to Saltcoats was supposed to leave Glasgow at 21:30. It was cancelled.
The next service departed at 22:45. I eventually arrived in Kilwinning at 23:30 p.m., tired but relieved that at least a replacement bus was waiting to take me further. Except, it wasn’t.
Train Late, Bus Locked
The bus was right there — parked outside the station, dark and silent, doors firmly shut. A ScotRail staff member stood nearby and explained that the bus meant to meet our train had already left a few minutes earlier, empty, because it was scheduled to depart according to the timetable, not the train’s actual delayed arrival. In other words, it had followed the clock, not the passengers.
Now we were told to wait another 30 minutes until midnight for the next scheduled departure. We stood there in the cold November night, the air heavy with that unmistakable Scottish chill that goes right through you. Among us was a small child and a woman visibly shivering. Some passengers tried to organise a taxi, but the cost was too high. One man grew frustrated, raised his voice for a moment, then fell silent and walked away. The rest of the passengers fell into a quiet, resigned stillness.
Keeping to the Clock, Ignoring the Crowd
I was told the bus there in front of us was “scheduled,” and that we simply had to wait. I asked why the bus couldn’t just leave now, since this was when the train had actually arrived. I also questioned what had happened to the two previous replacement buses — had they really gone all the way to Largs empty? I didn't get any answer.
I couldn’t help but notice the irony: the train was “scheduled” too, but it was allowed to be late. The system seemed flexible when it came to its own faults, yet rigid when it came to passengers’ comfort.
We waited half an hour in the cold. I started recording a short TikTok video, partly to pass the time, partly because I felt this moment needed to be seen. The staff member did apologise eventually, and when the train from Ayr finally arrived, the passengers heading to Largs joined us. The bus doors opened at last, and we boarded. I arrived home 30 minutes past midnight — two hours later than planned.
TikTok Presence
I posted that short video on TikTok as it happened, and to my surprise, it resonated with many people. Within 24 hours, it had reached over 8,000 views and 200 likes — and the numbers keep rising. The comments are mixed but telling.
Many viewers shared the same frustration, saying this sort of treatment has become far too common and that passengers deserve better. Others defended the situation, suggesting that the driver might have been on a legally required break (bus drivers must take one every 4.5 hours) or that noise regulations might have prevented him from idling the engine and letting passengers onboard earlier.
How We Learn to Accept Less
All of these explanations may well be true. But they also highlight a troubling mindset — that we should simply accept discomfort and inconvenience because “that’s how things are.” Those who do speak up are briefly noticed, then quickly ignored.
But I don’t believe this is the right way forward. I’ve used rail replacement services in Scotland before, and they were always well organised and accessible. This time was different — and it shouldn’t become the norm.
When No One Speaks Up
I often travel this route — the Largs to Glasgow line through Kilwinning — and it was the first time I’d seen such a situation. What surprised me how normalised it all seemed. The rail staff carried an air of entitlement, as if it were perfectly acceptable to leave paying passengers standing in the cold for half an hour while an empty replacement bus sat locked nearby — and most people simply accepted it.
You’re the Only One Who Can Stand Up for Yourself
Yet I couldn’t help but think — if everyone there had spoken up and said that waiting outside at midnight for a replacement bus was unacceptable, perhaps the doors would have opened sooner. Instead, silence hung heavy in the cold air. And somehow it was left to me, a woman who’s only recently moved here from London, to speak up and later share the story on social media. I don’t mean that in a boastful way, but honestly, in London people wouldn’t have it. They’d question, they’d demand answers, and they wouldn’t quietly accept their fate. Something in this culture of quiet endurance needs to shift.
Hope for Service Improvement
I’d like to think this was just an isolated case. Going forward, coordinating replacement buses with actual train arrivals is crucial. Passengers should be able to wait inside the bus when it’s cold. Better planning could prevent similar problems in the future.
Passenger Rights: What You Should Know
For anyone who finds themselves in a similar situation:
If your train is delayed by more than 30 minutes, you are entitled to compensation under ScotRail’s Delay Repay scheme.
If your service is cancelled and you decide not to travel, you can claim a full refund.
Replacement transport should be provided as close as possible to your train’s actual arrival, and passengers must be given clear information about what’s happening.
It’s also reasonable to expect shelter and warmth while waiting, especially late at night or in adverse conditions.
While stations may be open, it’s reasonable to expect better organisation and communication, and at least the opportunity to board a waiting bus promptly — especially late at night. Seeing an empty bus standing there with locked doors, while passengers waited outside, is frustrating and shouldn’t be considered normal.
When I moved to Scotland and bought my first flat, I felt like
I had stumbled into a different mindset about property.
In London, I was used to sky-high prices, impossible mortgages, and the idea that “home ownership” meant decades of debt.
Here, properties are affordable, and yet so many people choose to rent. It made me reflect on how people follow patterns that aren’t always in their best interest — and how a different approach can change everything.
Independent thinking
Buying something modest and affordable as a first property isn’t glamorous, but it’s liberating. You get security, freedom, and breathing space. You’re not chained to a massive mortgage for the next 20–30 years, and that means you can focus on building the life you actually want — whether that’s creative projects, community work, or simply having space to breathe.
In Ayrshire, you can buy a flat for £40,000–£50,000. That’s within reach of many people, yet the mentality is often: “Why bother? The place has seen better days.” But really, this mindset only exists if you let it. Property is what you make of it, and small, early investments can give young people — even teenagers who start saving a little from birthday money — a real head start on financial independence.
Practical growth and side income
Another opportunity that’s often overlooked is using a small, affordable property as a stepping stone for rental income. You can buy cheaply, manage it well, and then start saving toward another property to rent out. That creates a side income and builds financial security over time. In reality, it’s often a lack of education or reflection, rather than practicality, that keeps people locked into that mindset.
Early retirement and lifestyle freedom
If you organise things well, you can actually retire early — around the age of 50 — letting your properties work for you. That depends on the lifestyle you want, but for a young person, a modest two-bedroom flat in Ayrshire is affordable, often around £50,000, and commutes to Glasgow are just 45 minutes. It frees up space and money for creative projects, hobbies, or simply enjoying life.
Having things organised
People sometimes ask me why I’m not “working” in the traditional sense. The truth is that, although my properties don’t yet fully work for me, they’re organised enough to provide flexibility. This allows me to focus on creative projects and other meaningful pursuits.
A friend once told me about a lawyer’s anecdote, where a man went to court and, when stating his occupation, explained he didn’t work because he didn't need to - he had everything organised. That’s the kind of independence I aspire to.
The myth of London
I think a lot of people carry a certain mythology about London — the idea that career success, wealth, and excitement are only found there. In reality, London is competitive, crowded, and exhausting. I don’t miss the packed undergrounds, long commutes, and heavily build-up areas. Ayrshire offers a different type of richness: access to nature and a sense of space that allows reflection and creativity. It’s an experiment, a different life path that feels freeing rather than limiting.
Children, timing, and life choices
Of course, life choices impact financial freedom and lifestyle. Having children early can limit flexibility, as many people discover, and for women there’s also the biological consideration of menopause. But there’s never a perfect time — as a friend once said, “there’s never a good time for children.” Everyone has to make choices according to their own circumstances. For me, choosing affordability and independence first allows me to experiment with life creatively, without feeling trapped by conventional expectations.
Starting small
The lesson I’ve learned is that independence and opportunity often start small. You don’t need a mansion or a long-term mortgage to feel secure. You need clarity, courage, and a willingness to see the potential in what’s around you — whether that’s a property, a town, or your own life. Sometimes the smartest, most creative path is the one others overlook.
During beach clean-ups in Scotland in 2025, The Loft Collective came across a number of unusual discarded items. While each object is a reminder of waste left in the environment, they also tell small stories of everyday life — from a child’s toy to a forgotten glove.
Last night I went to the Paisley Town Hall to see Nina Conti - an acclaimed ventriloquist. 
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