I sit and watch the murky waters of the River Clyde slide by, polluted and dark. The wind whistles down the river under the Kingston Bridge, the traffic overhead relentlessly gridlocked. A runner passes by along the new walkway, struggling against the strong breeze.

Across the water another monstrosity of 1960’s architecture is being torn down. The scars of modernity that ruined the classic Georgian and Victorian city gradually disappearing, to be replaced by faceless glass and metal boxes.

I look along at the Broomielaw, once the heart of the world-renowned ship building industrial city, now rebranded as the International Financial District. The glass offices filled with the well off and middle class from the suburbs. With the end of the heavy industry came the end of Glasgow’s character. The hard-working, steel-faced, tough streets, now sanitised to fit in with the modern world, hiding the areas of abject poverty, sectarian hatred and failing health that remain.

I hunch my shoulders and walk into the headwind. All the familiar landmarks remain among the shifting cityscape. There is little to love in a dying city fallen from grace and power, but my whole life is here. No mean city. My city.

© A Mixed Bag

Written as part of Sunday Photo Fiction. Write a story of around 200 words based on the photo prompt given (above). For more details visit HERE.

To view more stories based on this week’s prompt, click HERE.

21 responses to “GLASGOW”

  1. I definitely felt the love-hate relationship coming through. It reminded me of how I feel about my small hometown, which I remember so fondly from my childhood but which has gone downhill terribly over time.

    Liked by 1 person

    • Thanks Joy. I think it’s partly that places have gone downhill, but also I feel the problems have always been there and as you get older you see and realise that more – certainly what I find with Glasgow anyway. Thanks for reading.

      Liked by 1 person

  2. Glasgow is my adopted city – I grew up in England – and I totally love it. But I agree some things could be done better – too many old buildings left to rot or mysteriously burn down and some very unimaginative new stuff. But I don’t think I could ever live anywhere else now!

    Liked by 1 person

    • That’s exactly the feeling I have having been born and bred here. There’s an equal amount to love and despair with, but I find it hard to imagine leaving it behind! Thanks for reading.

      Liked by 1 person

  3. Lovely, Iain. I would guess a lot of us feel that way about out home towns and cities. Coating the ugliness is the glow of our memories and presence of any remaining family and friends. 🙂 — Suzanne

    Liked by 1 person

  4. I missed this originally, Iain, and love it.
    Great piece of writing, although I don’t entirely agree with your conclusions.
    Although I have abandoned it, I find it a vibrant, exciting place to visit.
    But you capture much of it superbly and succinctly.

    Liked by 1 person

    • I wonder perhaps if I left for a bit it would make it grow fonder in my mind. Very much a love/hate relationship, but I think that’s a common feeling for a lot of people in the places they live. Thanks CE.


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