Photograph by Islay McLeod
I recently had occasion to visit the West End of Glasgow, in order to see a splendid cabaret performance by a group of classically-trained singers who appear under the name ‘All That Malarkey’. As the name suggests, they present cleverly arranged songs from different parts of the musical spectrum in a stage show that demonstrates both wit and style. This week they are appearing at the Edinburgh Festival Fringe. Such examples of missionary work in the east are to be commended.
I know the West End fairly well, having worked at Glasgow University for 18 years, but I never developed the affection for the area evident among residents and many of my former colleagues.
As is common in high streets across the country, many commercial premises are now occupied by charity shops or are vacant. There used to be a proper bookshop next to Hillhead underground station but that disappeared some years ago and readers have to turn to the rather pricey Oxfam second-hand bookshop further along the road.
Even keen Westenders are prepared to admit that the area has its disadvantages. There is the difficulty of finding a parking space, the litter on the pavements, the problem of noisy neighbours and the poor service provided by factors responsible for the upkeep of tenement buildings. But they still cling to the notion that there is something very special about their neighbourhood. They used to boast about the superiority of Byres Road over the southside’s Victoria Road. That comparison is now fairly meaningless given the depressing state of the area around Govanhill. Byres Road may have escaped quite such a dramatic decline but you don’t have to stray very far into Partick or Maryhill to encounter some dispiriting parts.
When the BBC had its headquarters in Queen Margaret Drive there was always the prospect of spotting a ‘B list’ actor or media ‘celebrity’ in one of the pubs or restaurants in the ‘fashionable’ lanes off Byres Road. I have occasionally witnessed gushing sycophants paying homage to the star of the moment. In that shallow world, the dividing line between sycophancy and back-stabbing can be a fine one. Now that the BBC has moved to its shiny palace south of the river the venue for such exchanges has transferred elsewhere.
What of the cultural and intellectual life of the West End? Since 1996 it has had its own festival offering a wide range of events, including exhibitions, performances, talks, tours, workshops and screenings. It has grown steadily and is now a major attraction every June. When Roy Jenkins was elected as an MP for the Hillhead constituency, the area was described as having perhaps the most highly educated electorate in the country. Glasgow University, with its long and proud history, certainly makes a major contribution to the advancement of knowledge and the quality of ideas within and beyond the city. It hosts many important events, including lectures by distinguished visitors, some of which are open to the public.
All this is admirable. It is a pity, therefore, that the university also merits a ‘carbuncle’ award for some of its modern buildings. The Boyd Orr, Adam Smith and Library buildings rival each other in their ugliness. Taken together with developers’ efforts to erect blocks of flats in the few remaining spaces in the West End, the oppressive density of the built environment represents another item on the debit side of the equation.
But what I find most striking when I re-visit the area are the faces of many of the people I see on the streets. As in Oxford and Cambridge, there are graduates who no longer have any connection with the university but stick around hoping vainly to recapture something of their student experience. This group may overlap with the visibly eccentric, those lost souls who do not work but who have a street routine which gives their life some structure, if not meaning. But above all I am struck by the number of faces which I would describe as desperate, in some cases ‘wasted’ – people looking for money, or love, or success, or even just recognition from someone they know. I hope some photographer or artist is capturing those faces: they could become important documentary sources for the future.
I would not deny that it is possible to paint a picture of another West End – affluent, professional, middle class. It might include women (or men) who compare notes about holiday destinations or hairdressing salons over a few glasses of chilled white wine, as well as guys (or girls) who boast about their business plans and speculate about Partick Thistle’s chances of having a good season. And the sheer energy of the student population, whether engaging in intense political and philosophical discussion, or simply having fun, is an important part of the overall scene.
I am also aware that my resistance to the charms of the West End reveals as much about me as it does about the area itself. It is the perspective of someone who dislikes noise, crowds and pretension, and who is offended by planning decisions that are driven by profit rather than environmental sensitivity. Despite this, I shall continue to stroll along Byres Road, University Avenue and Gibson Street from time to time and, even if I am not optimistic about seeing an improved urban landscape, a decline in the number of desperate faces would be a welcome change.
Walter Humes is a visiting professor of education at the University of Stirling
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