Our Glasgow office manager David rang the other day. He’s in the office with only one staff member in attendance, she a young Russian girl (the others are in a necessary ‘lockdown’ because the schools are closed and they have children) while another, my daughter, Claudia has been in Australia but has just returned. “I feel absolutely euphoric,” she wrote in a letter just in, having arrived back in our Glasgow home.
Anyway, curiosity saw David go through the building and sure enough, every tenancy was empty. So he shot out and inspected the garages of our other four office buildings – all empty. Meanwhile, he said Buchanan Street is absolutely packed with families, and a festive air prevails. So much for the lockdown.
Buchanan Street is a lengthy wide pedestrianised avenue, the key street in Britain’s biggest CBD shopping precinct outside of London. None of this surprises me and is typical of the pervading cavalier spirit of Glasgow.
Take this typical incident. Last year 3 of us popped into an up-market Glasgow restaurant for lunch.
In came a young woman with a very large dog. She slid into a booth alongside a window and the dog without any instruction, leapt up and sat politely erect, opposite her. She studied the menu then beckoned the waiter and gave him their orders. For the dog, a large bowl of mince-meat and another of water, these duly placed on the table before it. No-one evidently found this extraordinary.
Imagine that here in puritanical New Zealand. My God I miss the constant zaniest of Glaswegian life.