![]() ![]() With the benefit of hindsight (bloody hindsight, always right), I can see that I was perhaps not ready to settle in. It was incomprehensible, loud, close, and murderously intense. Anger exploded from strangers in the street and on buses, as if just the latest episode of a mysterious, long-running, cryptic dispute being upheld across the city. ![]() ![]() It was a word more suited to describing a delicate misty rain (ah, there’s a humour in the air today: your umbrella won’t do any good).īesides, there was no humour to be found in Glasgow. Ruminating (soggily) as I passed one-legged pigeons and drifts of empty Tennents cans, ‘humour’ seemed like the saddest word ever uttered. The buildings were ugly and bleak, the streets were dirty and decrepit, and the pavements all seemed to lean one way or another. The city seemed to me (eighteen years old and fresh from the Highlands, as green as you get) just a big brawling mass without a heart. Before I moved, I’d been warned that it would rain interminably, but ‘the humour’ would make up for it. I hated Glasgow for the first four years that I lived here. ![]()
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |