As we navigated the convoluted off-ramps of the urban M8 down to street level, I watched the cliff-face of tall buildings which cluster around the north bank of the Clyde at Anderston with growing excitement. Arriving in Glasgow this way - by road from the south - was a new experience, with all the exhilaration of soaring motorways cutting through the incomplete regeneration schemes while the sun reflects from red sandstone tenements stacked up the hills of the city. Arriving at our hotel for the evening was equally interesting - I'd stayed here a decade back when it was the decaying Quality Hotel Glasgow Central - a once proud railway hotel falling into disrepair as its owning company slowly went out of business. However, restored to its former grandeur as the Grand Central Hotel it's now a comfortable and luxurious stop-over in the city centre. We don't stray far for the evening, enjoying the same restaurant that saved the day a year ago.
This morning I set out early, onto the slick pavements which I'd so often pounded early. I retraced an old route around the city centre, to Queen Street station for a glance at the trains. In the midst of refurbishment and electrification it was quiet and a bit battered looking, but the thrill of trains to far-flung points at the end of the network was still present. As I headed for a familiar coffee stop and used the quiet morning to write and catch up on correspondence, I watched the city waking outside - the darkness turning into the silver-grey of a typical Glasgow morning. The stores began to open, and the commuters hustled along Buchanan Street to work. I recalled the feeling of being relaxed and content I used to get here when I'd escaped for a visit and realised I felt pretty similar. Perhaps Glasgow hadn't changed so much - or perhaps more surprisingly I hadn't either?
Later we headed west to the Botanic Gardens. There was a little weak sunshine above, and the park was surprisingly busy for a chilly January afternoon. On our way to exit, we stopped to look at the remains of Botanic Gardens station, green and damp beneath the earth of the park. I'd visited these before, in very different times - and like Glasgow itself, they remained solid and weatherbeaten - but they remained. Getting back here and staying for a night had given me a chance to recalibrate to the rhythm of this unique city, and getting out into the dark morning had allowed to feel part of its story again. We both admitted that, despite the next leg of our trip being ahead, we didn't want to leave. What a difference a year makes...
