So here I am on my 40th birthday in Glasgow. Busier, shabbier; with more rubbish on its streets than Edinburgh, Glasgow nevertheless has a lot going for it, particularly the west end with its sandstone tenements on tree filled streets. So many grand buildings; big ornate churches, little alleys with hidden cafes and shops, and this city it's so green - bowling greens crop up every hundred paces. It almost feels like home. I love Glasgow.
We arrive at Kelvinbridge to blue skies. We walk past the hotel I usually stay at and continue for our stay at the more plush Hilton. We've lucked out and have a view of the Botanic gardens. In the hotel I open my cards and presents before a wander around the west end. A few years ago I was standing around Byres road waiting for my girlfriend of the time when a guy came up to me and asked if I was the radio fugitive. I shook my head. A minute later a group of people asked me the same thing. It unnerved me. Then another group came charging down the hill towards me and asked the same thing. There must have been a radio competition and you had to look for a guy hanging around Byres road ready to give you the next clue or maybe a prize from Fopp.
Thank goodness Fopp records is still here. The sun is blazing, the Botanics full of people lying on the grass. People push prams, walk dogs, lie on a shelf of rock by the water along the Kelvin Walkway. We wind our way around until we reach the crowded Kelvingrove Park. Sitting up on the hillside watching below as groups sits around barbecues, girls in summer dresses laugh and drink blue colured drinks, lone individuals are dotted around reading heady literature.
Sunday evening we go for my birthday meal at The Left Bank, a homely lit place with wooden floors, a concrete fronted bar and friendly waiters. Red wine and a big burger is ordered. It's funny I lived in Glasgow for a few months in 1995 and spent lots of time walking its streets. I spent my 25th birthday in Glasgow. It was a sad affair; I went to the off-Licence, came back to my tenement flat (my flatmates were on holiday), made a few phone calls to people far away and watched a Mike Leigh film on TV. If you'd told me then I'd spend my 40th in the same part of town I'd have been seriously worried. But there's no need, 25 year old me, because you'll get a decent meal on your 40th and good company.
The following day is even warmer and we take the train to Loch Lomond. Everyone else has the same idea including a drunk from Anniesland who's fallen down the bank and insists he has broken his hip. He asks for an ambulance but the police arrive instead and berate him for being drunk. "Yes we've found him, unfortunately," the guy says radio-ing through to a colleague. We carry on to dip our feet in the waters; our feet cold as they hit the water and then rapidly get colder until we quickly withdraw them and attempt to warm them on the concrete. Feet warmed, we wander through a wooded area until we reach a big bench with a beautiful view over the loch and the mountains beyond.
The good weather lasts until the next day when it's time to return south. We pack up the good weather and take it with us, but unfortunately we have to leave the magic of the west end behind us. Until next time.
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