I was fortunate to board the wrong train at Glasgow Central. Instead of going to Pollokshields East, I was on my way to Pollokshaws West station. I didn’t mind as I wasn’t late and it wasn’t raining. This error would increase my opportunities to be a flaneur and observe the doors of Glasgow’s south side. There was an impressive selection.
Glasgow demands you work a little harder than Edinburgh does. Edinburgh greets you with a castle and overtly says, “I am beautiful and historical, come ogle me.”
Glasgow is a city that at first appears utilitarian, a practical city built for industrial purposes, but its beauty is soon evident when you look up. These are buildings that are not showy, more like magic eye pictures, the more you stare at them, the more you see the subtle patterns.
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In the 48 hours I have in Glasgow, I also admire the University of Strathclyde’s wonderwall, celebrating telescopes, Doctor Who and Andrew Ure, who it is believed inspired Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein with his experiments on corpses. I am on my way to record a BBC Scotland panel show that is, impressively, being recorded in a brewery. The dreams of youth made real.
I enjoy the pedestrian crossings that, when I go to press the button, I discover are decorated with stickers saying ‘Capitalism is unsustainable’, and the illuminated ‘Jesus died for our sins’ on Victoria Road that is suspended just above a national money lender (or bank) who I imagine have had to fix their tables to the ground to ensure they are not tipped over during anti-capitalist Christian fervour. The stained glass windows on the stairwell and doors of my friend’s apartment block would stagger William Morris.