Coffee On The Hill

‘It’s the next West End’ is something I think I actually said to someone when they asked me what the Southside of Glasgow was like when I moved. In truth it’s a lot like the West End if you spread it out a bit and added a few more hills.  

I like it here, a lot. When I first moved out of my lodging in Partick I knew I was either going to end up as a West End Wan*er or Southisde Softie (I’ve made that up, it had to be alliterative and my other options were either stupid or deeply offensive) and given the year of distancing and isolation we’ve had, flying south was the right choice. 

In truth, my flatmate Lydia and I had only been here a few weeks before we were locked in with each other and afraid to go to Tesco, so we hadn’t the chance to explore. The bar closest to us was closed for the month prior to lockdown for refurbishment, and I'm not sure if it’s been open since. Our only real outing was to a slightly more upmarket Wetherspoons style place, a little further away, that had a decent quiz night. I can count the number of times we went on one finger before the world ended. 

I remember walking to the (pleasingly named) Church on the Hill, thinking it was miles away from the flat and that I’d never walk to this place if I could avoid it. Little did I know, walking was about to become the only thing we could do and one of the few things keeping the world population sane on a daily basis. 

The worst part about the walking, that I have come to terms with now, was choosing where to go. After a time I’d exhausted Queens, Kings and Cathkin Park and while Pollok is beautiful, it was already a fair distance away, so by the time you got there you didn’t really have the time or inclination to walk around AND back. So I started just picking streets and walking, following wherever they took me and then the same road back. After a time, the area became less foreign to me, the jigsaw of streets and lanes started to make sense. I'd find myself crossing paths I’d taken before and places I wouldn’t have thought to visit. This included an ancient Scottish battleground with a plaque where Mary Queen of Scots stood, only in Scotland can you ‘happen upon’ history quite like that.  

Sadly I also discovered brilliant looking cafes, shops and restaurants that I then couldn’t visit and some I wouldn’t be able to visit at all, as is the way of an economic crisis that goes hand in hand with a public health one. 

I came to terms with having to walk, not everyone was out for fresh air or physical wellbeing but the need to just get out and be away from the same four walls reminding us of what we were all going through. It can be hard to get over the hurdle of actually getting out the door, even though we know we should but I take the same view now that I do with any exercise, you may not want to but you won't regret doing it. 

It’s harder to walk in the cold but it’s also better for you. To get that crisp air into your lungs and as much daylight into your skin as you can before the sun decides it’s had enough by 2pm. 

It snowed the other week and I love the snow, but the next day when it froze, I felt like I wanted a nice walk to the flagpole at Queens Park with a morning coffee. I made it all way up the deadly ice covered hills right to the highest point of the park and I had a choice. Either to take the icy steps up to the flagpole or the hill next to the steps. In my mind, the hill looked deceptively less slippery than the steps, a thought that didn’t comfort me while I fell forward coffee in hand. For clarity, you need to understand I was holding the coffee by the top rather than the side. So when I fell forward and my natural reflex of putting my arms up in front of me kicked in, I landed on the coffee, pressured the cup with my fall and it sprayed up onto me as I gracefully slid down the hill like a starfish sliding down greased window. 

My pride is covered in dents so this didn’t matter too much. The worst part was picking myself up and walking up the steps that actually, were not that slippy at all.