r/Glasgow Tools

On through Glasgow Cross where tall cranes – always a sign of vibrant economic activity - are busy constructing new retail developments which are already altering the skyline of this old street. Even at this late-afternoon hour the streets around the Merchant City are beginning to shimmy with early arrivals for the saturnalia which will convulse them from now until dawn.

It’s here though, where you see the fault-lines between the fierce pride of the people and civic neglect. On a pedestrianised stretch of John Street, adjacent to the City Chambers, the buildings look smart and elegant and cafe bars with outdoor seating channel a sultry mid-European ambience.

But at the point where the Council’s responsibility starts is where the problems are all too evident. Cigarette ends and fast food wrappers are scattered and it’s clear no effort has been made to clean it. Yet, as Kenny Fraser, a local shop-worker points out, “the place will be manicured for next week’s bike race”.

On the Buchanan Street steps a loud cockney agitator is transmitting conspiracy theories about 9/11, Covid and Big Government. “Am oi roit,” he shouts after each slogan. A wee Hare Krishna man pauses and asks me what’s going on. “We’re all going to hell,” I say. “Be at peace,” he says.

And now I’m at the start of Sauchiehall Street. Is it my imagination, or is this much-maligned, promenade looking busier than I’ve seen it in years? Yet, you simply can’t escape the hollowed-out façade that disfigures almost the entire north side.
Here there used to be Greaves sports emporium, Victoria’s night-club, Marks & Spencer.

Further up, ten or so ghost properties, including the old ABC, tell of the damage caused by the art-school fires.

I start counting the empty spaces and arrive at 26 by the time I reach the motorway.

No unforeseen circumstances or natural disasters; no pandemic or adverse market forces can explain why Glasgow’s most venerated thoroughfare has been permitted to fester like this. It’s a slight on the character of those cheerful, optimistic, resourceful Glaswegians I met on a Saturday afternoon who each day strive to make their city look its best.

At the mouth of Woodlands Road, signifying your official West End, there’s an immediate change, like crossing over from one country to another. The cars are newer and bigger; the coffees are artisan and the pavements are cleaner. Here be man-buns.

A stag party sidles by, not yet sparkled and offering apologies. There are art galleries. The smell of fried onions and kebab sauce has been replaced by that of scented candles and essential oils. The fruit comes in wooden boxes that sit outside shops and not at the bottom of Bacardis.

And I now know where Cail Bruach is.

On Byres Road it looks like someone's done a Boys From Brazil number on white dudes under the age of 30. They’ve all got beards shaped to the same, universal set of facial coordinates. They’re all called "bro". But it’s still Glasgow. A little less jaggy, perhaps than the streets on the other side of the city and with the confidence that money brings.

There’s a short story by F Scott Fitzgerald, called The Lost Decade. It tells of a man – once an alcoholic - beholding his city and its people with the clarity that comes from sobriety.

On Saturday I walked through Glasgow and paid attention for a change. There’s a lot that needs repairing in my city, but its soul remains intact.