Forty-four years ago this month, I was really getting settled in to my new life as a student at the wonderful Glasgow School of Art, and I loved every minute of it. Each day was busy and brought something new. Through the week I would welcome each day with an early start making my way into the first year department in Blythswood Square. Wednesday mornings were "Liberal Studies and The History of Art" lectures in the basement Lecture Theatre in the "Mack" (Charles Rennie Mackintosh's masterpiece of modern architecture and a creative fortress perched high above Sauchiehall Street, on Garnethill). As the weeks went by I stopped pinching myself as the reality became clear that I was indeed part of my long held dream of being an art student living in the urban world. But I also began to understand that it was not in my character to become anonymous and I quickly gave up trying. Each morning between 7.30am and 8.30am one would see the same group of people travelling in the same direction. A polite nod of acknowlegment then progressed into gentle conversation and fellow commuters became a community. The weekends brought the fun of finding a party, people would actually go round the streets of the West End of Glasgow, listening out for a good party. Most did just this and eventually found occasion to organise their own events in their own places. But in November 1979 I hadn't yet discovered my own talent for hosting what were later to be known as "Special Art School Parties", with good food, plenty of drink and often live music! The old flat that was to be my home throughout my time in Glasgow, did come into its own and was indeed a great place to entertain. It was certainly became a very happy residence and place of work for almost four decades.
In November 1979, my older brother Malcolm and I received an invitation to two parties in Edinburgh, to be held in the same weekend. We may call them "Stornoway Parties", organised by some of our good friends from home, then studying in the capital. This meant getting a train in the late afternoon on the Friday and making a whole weekend visit returning some time on the following Sunday afternoon.
We met up with our friends and went back to their flat where we would be staying. Then off we all went to the first party. Very soon after entering the party flat my brother, just disappeared! I spent some time searching for him, and asking if anyone had seen him, but no-one had. Not knowing what to do next, I decided to take my coat off and try to stop worrying. Everyone was leaving their coats and jackets in a bedroom at the back of the flat. I was just about to do the same when I noticed my brother lying face down, choking among the coats and jackets, in the throes of an asthmatic attack! I had to quickly help him get his inhaler and reach for some air. All the time playing down any anxiety I had about the potential seriousness of the event. Fortumately everything was fine and we were soon right back in party mode. But I learnt how easy things can go wrong!
The following day we met lots more people we knew, form Stornoway and in the evening attended another party. By Sunday morning we were all exhausted and quite "partied out". Later on the Sunday we were ready to head "home" to Glasgow. Of course being November it was dark and cold. We arrived back in Queen Street Station some time after 6pm. We climbed up to the Cathedral Street viaduct above the station and there waited for a bus to take us to the West End.
Standing at the bus stop beside us was a wee Glesga wuman. Her head was covered by a well pined woolly hat and she was wearing one of those heavy woven coats quintessentially Glaswegian, with three big buttons at the front. She also wore fur lined boots rolled down and carried a double loop handled shopping back. Now in Glasgow, my adopted city a place I love dearly, no matter where you go, there is always a person desperate to communicate and break through the barrier of loneliness. All the encouragement required is a fleeting eye contact and a conversation will begin. I blinked and the little woman smiled and said, "aye, that's me since yest'rday"... I didn't quite catch it so she said it again! I wondered what on earth it meant and if she had any more such expressive phrases. Within seconds I knew her name was Sadie and was being told her life's history, how she had been working since the day before and was now heading home. She had a family of nine and was very proud of them... The bus arrived we got on, Sadie sat beside me and her conversation continued. Now and then she invited information of me...Then we arrived at our stop in University Avenue, we said our cheerios and my brother and I got off, to walk the short distance "home". Not nearly as chatty as me, Malcolm asked "You never introduced me to your friend? How long have you known her?" I tried to explain, why I was so interested in this person whom I may never have met again and why I believed and still believe that it is so important to engage with and respect everyone we meet. That was after all a value expressed of our upbringing. Meeting a real person, with an interesting life for a few brief minutes brought a special warmth to a cold night and completed a lovely weekend. I never did see Sadie again.
No comments:
Post a Comment