We bail on our planned morning activity today. We had
planned to do the Macintosh tour at the Glasgow School of Arts. Since the fire
we can’t tour the actual building only the exhibition. We are tardy getting away
and in the end we decide we’ll just do something else and head into the city for our lunch at the
Willow Tea Room, we do a reccie over to the Cathedral but run out of time to make it worth stopping there today so we just decide to wander about in the city until lunch - which isn't long now.
Parking is simple in the Mitchell Street Car Park and this
puts us right at the Lighthouse with its entrance off a funky arcade of neon
signs highlighting in simple terms aspects of Charles Rennie Mackintosh's work. While Hubby indulges his obsession of checking that he’s
locked everything several times, I wander out into Buchanan Street. Imagine those
movie scenes when the heroine finds herself in some cosmopolitan centre gazing
skyward and spinning around in her dress with fitted bodice and extravagantly
flared and feminine skirt a beaming smile across her beautiful face revelling in the moment of joy. It’s not what you would see had you been a
fly on the wall, far from it, but it’s how I felt just the same.
Those of you who know Glasgow must surely be smiling in
satisfaction because you knew didn’t you. You’ve been waiting patiently for me
to arrive and discover it for myself. Glasgow is wonderful. Of course. I can’t
understand why I had no expectations. It was the 2nd
city of the British Empire at its peak. Of course it is fantastic! Better still, Glasgow has not had a subsequent major boom to inspire people to demolish and replace the old stone glories. Glasgow seems to be intact and mostly unadulterated.
The weather can’t make up its mind if it wants to rain or
not, settling on just enough precipitation to keep our rain hoods up most of the
time. Some people have brollies, others have appropriate jackets or coats, most just brave the light drizzle, confident
of drying off quickly in the warm centrally heated offices and shops.
Hubby and I find each other and we start making our way to
the Willow Tea Rooms. We have created another accidental stroke of genius. The
navigation assistance we’ve used has brought us to the Buchanan Street Willow
Tea Rooms. Ah. We will need to walk over to Sauchiehall Street but we’re not
sorry. Of course we must wander through Glasgow city! It’s a pleasure. …but
who approved that there? There’s a jarringly modern building plonked in amongst
the older styles. Hubby likes it. I’ve got nothing against the style or the
building, I just don’t like it where it is. It pays no respect at all to its
context. It would be better over in the new precinct along the river. Go to
town on innovative modern styling over there. Then again, this one isn’t
obviously that fantastically innovative.
As we walk along, we are obliged to pass modest little Nelson Mandela Place.
It’s a little thoroughfare with a big name. I can't help but smile. It is kind of like the
city beaurocracy is paying a half-hearted compliment. “We like you Nelson
Mandela, but not all that much. There
are limits. ”
Someone has since explained that in fact Nelson Mandela Place is one of the great things in Glasgow. Apparently in the 1980s, when Nelson Mandela was still in jail in South Africa, the South African High Commission was located here in what was then known as St George's Place. In 1981, the City of Glasgow had led the charge lobbying for the release of Mandela, giving him the Freedom of the City. Five years later they doubled down on their campaign and in a stroke of sheer genius, changed the address of the South African High Commission in Glasgow to Nelson Mandela Place. Who wouldn't be proud to be Glaswegian.
I need some sinus meds and with a few minutes to spare before our reservation we wander into Boots. It’s bedlam in there. I don’t need it that much. I’ll live. We leave quick smart.
I need some sinus meds and with a few minutes to spare before our reservation we wander into Boots. It’s bedlam in there. I don’t need it that much. I’ll live. We leave quick smart.
To get to the Willow Tea Rooms we have to go in through the
shop and up some stairs to the café reception which we find on a mezzanine
level. Not at all what I was expecting. Relief as we are led through the diners on this
level and up some more stairs into the tea room proper. It’s cramped. I don’t immediately
realise why. They appear to have added a couple of tables into the middle of the café.
The style of chair for the additions is reasonably consistent with the Mackintosh originals but they are not as high backed. Perhaps just as well or the room would look even more cramped.
We settle in and
set about deciding what to have. It’s a long list but we both decide to go with
the afternoon tea. Served on a
traditional 3 tiered cake stand, enjoy our delicious selection of homemade
sandwiches, scone with clotted cream & strawberry jam, buttered shortbread
and your choice of cake which you can choose from today’s selection. Select
your pot of loose leaf tea or freshly ground coffee from the selection on the
back of the menu. Hubby has a cappuccino and I opt for apple juice rather
than a hot beverage. For cakes Hubby’s decided to go for the Victoria Sponge
and I choose the Lemon Meringue Tart.
We chat and read the news to each other as we await
delivery. The media is reporting that we’ve had a change of Prime Minister in
Australia depriving the electorate from the sheer unadulterated pleasure of
booting Tony Abbott from the office of Prime Minister come the election next
year. My how we and so many others were looking forward to giving the LNP a savage kicking. The change has made things rather more interesting than the otherwise
foregone conclusion.
Our three tiered stand arrives stacked with goodies. We each
have three finger sandwiches. There's cucumber sandwich, smoked salmon and beef. All very nice. There’s some little shortbread rounds that are a bit sweeter than Walker’s
shortbread and make a nice change. The scones for the cream tea are enormous
and too big for the amount of cream and jam provided. They’re typically short
and fairly dense but slightly warm and tasty. Hubby takes the crown without me
having a remote chance. His Victoria Sponge is beautifully light and fresh.
Easily the best we’ve had. Good choice. My Lemon Meringue Tart is the victim of
my expectations. Pastry is light and delicate but firm enough not to fall
apart, the meringue is OK, not quite as stiff as it should be but acceptable.
Unfortunately I kept wishing the filling was home-made lemon curd rather than
the pedestrian affair it is and that reminds me of commercial “lemon spread”
you buy in the supermarket. Disappointing really but not enough to spoil a very
nice meal. We’re more worried about the
time than the staff is when it comes to paying. I’m keen to be away so I have a
look in the shop downstairs while Hubby takes care of the bill. Really I’d
rather pay a little more and have more space around the tables.
Hubby’s delayed by checking out the exhibition that is up
near the toilets and enjoys seeing photos of some unusual Mackintosh pieces,
especially the billiard table and some glass panels. I’m a bit over it and
couldn’t be bothered walking back up the two floors.
We take a different route back to the car, exploring and
enjoying some elaborate stone work along the way and noticing the mural on the
car park wall which seems to be making a reference to sustainability.
This afternoon we’re supposed to be having a rest before we
go out tonight but we think we’ll just take a quick look at the House For An Art
Lover which is more or less on the way home. Well, everything is on the way
home really. Just depends on what route you take. ;-)
The car park is almost empty when we arrive and it’s still
lightly raining. Hubby moves directly to the house and I wander off on my own. I
can’t resist a look at the walled garden before we go in and we had tantalising
glimpses of it when we were driving in.
I step through the doorway and find a nostalgic
dream garden. I smile. There’s beds of Dahlias and chrysanthemums and sweet
peas on trellises. Curly topiary sits glossy among beds of pelargoniums and
small flowered begonias. A pink fuchsia makes a pretty feature.Variegated abutilon small and gangly in unexpected positions. Left
to grow where they are they would be far too big if they survived the winter. I
guess they must be grown as annuals.
I don’t have time to linger long so I turn
and quickly head to what I think must be the closest exhibition entrance. Hubby
is nowhere to be found. We phone and meet up and bicker about which entrance is
the right one. I let Hubby discover for himself. It’s no drama. We pay our
entrance fee and are directed to the lift that will take us up to the
accessible rooms of the house. The House For An Art Lover was built as a public
building so some rooms are not part of the exhibition rooms. The exhibition
rooms themselves are used for public functions also.
We collect our audio guide and hear about how this design came to be
built so many decades after CRM’s death. The original concept did not extend to
detailed construction drawings so research and compromises were required to
bring it to life due to some inconsistencies in the original
illustrations. What they have achieved
is breath-taking. The contrast between the dark panelled dining room and the
pale and light filled music room is emphasised. The darker room, our commentary
points out, would highlight the formal wear of the men in its austere black and
white and also the dresses and jewels of the ladies. The Music room is all near
white with curved glass doors leading to the terrace through an avenue of
stylised tree columns with little green leaf symbols at the top. I am among the
great majority of visitors in loving the oval room which was originally
intended for a ladies withdrawing room. The light fitting is an adaptation of a
similar light in the home of Mackintosh’s patron. It casts entrancing shadows
on the ceiling. The whole thing is magnificent and what a jewel for Glasgow’s
crown it is. Bringing the design to life was a stroke of genius.
It’s getting distressingly late now. We need to get home and chill out for a while.
It’s getting distressingly late now. We need to get home and chill out for a while.
It’s action central when we get home. New arrivals and
friends. Hustle and bustle that goes on for a while before it settles down. We
sleep and I rouse at nearly 7pm. We'd better start making some moves. We’re off
to see Florence and the Machine in concert at the SSE Hydro. We’re planning to
drive but Linda counsels us that it isn’t a good plan. We should get the train.
Seriously we should get the train. I’m leaving the call to Hubby. We’ll take
the train but I sense he's not really convinced.
It’s delightfully simple to just walk around the corner and
into the train station at Mount Florida. We’re puzzling on the platform but
getting along OK. A nice Glaswegian man comes over and makes sure we know where
we need to be and got our tickets OK. When we get to Glasgow Central he
actually walks us around to where we need to go to make our change to the
train for Exhibition Centre. I can hardly believe it. Linda had been saying to
us that the city’s motto is People Make Glasgow and that it’s true and
Glaswegians are the nicest friendliest people you’ll find anywhere. She
specifically said that people will divert from where they are going to show you
where you need to go and here we have a demonstration that she’s absolutely right. Full
marks to Glaswegians!!
Hubby observes that lots have people have had the same idea
as me. Huh?? You know, going in for the
start of the main gig rather than when the support act is on. Oh, yeah. Not
exactly my invention though is it. There’s a steady stream of people walking down
from Exhibition Centre along the long covered walkway into the precinct around
the SSE Hydro. It’s getting pretty dark now and the lights are on. It looks
amazing. I head over playing tourist to
try to get a good angle. There’s a tout singing out asking if anyone wants to
buy tickets. Is that legal here? Groups of friends mill about, probably waiting
for everyone to get here before they all go in together.
We’ve not had any dinner yet so we go in and sus out the
food options. There’s an Asian take away and a burger joint as far as I can
see. I come from a city where the basic rule is if you want good quality Asian
food, don’t eat from an Asian place unless Asian people are eating there. I can
see no Asian people in the crowd at all let alone eating from this take away. It’s
a different context to Sydney so maybe that rule shouldn’t apply… still …we
have already had experience of the weird and wonderful innovations that are
possible for the familiarly named menu options when the dishes are adapted to
meet the local palate. I decide to have the burger option. It’s on a brioche
bun. Brioche buns are popular here for burgers. It’s pretty reasonable for
stadium food. The onion rings are tasty. We don’t get those at home although
they are starting to appear at some places. Mainly at American eateries.
They’re starting to announce that the show is starting. It’s
a bluff but we make our way up the many flights of stairs to our seats in the
rafters. We’re not that familiar with Florence and the Machine, though we did
do some research and bought the latest album so we’re not completely unfamiliar
seeing this show… I know she’s hugely popular at the moment. I was surprised it
was so easy to get tickets.
The audience is assembled from all ages. Old dudes at least
as old as us, young teenagers and everything in between. Our seats are pretty
good. We’ve got a good view and I wasn’t prepared to spend more or to hang about watching for a price drop online. What a venue! It is massive. Absolutely massive.
We haven’t missed the pre-show entertainment completely. The
people seated next to us seem to have been having a falling out with some
people in the row in front of us. The guy next to us appears to have made a complaint and asked to be moved. The security people come over and sort it
out. Basically they tell everyone to be grown ups and leave each other alone. Just
don’t interact there’s no need to move anyone at this stage. Good. There’s no
more trouble.
The stage begins to fill with musicians of broad array. There’s even a harpist. They are going all out. Florence comes on
to rapturous applause as you expect and it’s away. There’s not been any sign
about photography etc and the visibility of back screens on phones is
consistent throughout the show as the audience members capture a precious memory. I figure what’s the fuss if I just post the odd
photo while I tell you that the result of the large group of people on stage,
and no doubt an even larger group backstage is outstanding. The music is so
true to the album you wonder if she’s lip synching but I don’t think she is.
She has an incredibly powerful voice yet her speaking voice is quietly refined. You would never expect that she has it in her. The lightshow is also brilliant. It’s
just a really enjoyable fun night of great music. I don’t know what others
paid, but our seats were great value for money. Top night.
People start to drift away pretty early once the first end
comes. Clearly they don’t want to get caught in the crowds getting away. The
encores are some of the best items as is often the case. The plan relies on
going out with a bang, not some pathetic also ran tune.
As I’m chiefly here as an observer of Glasgow life we make
no hurry for the exit. The lights come on and the groundlings down on the floor
of the arena are drifting out looking for all the world like a mob of soldier
crabs on the mud flats at low tide, drifting off to the protection of the
shoreline.
The crowd leaving is well behaved and sober. The atmosphere walking
up to the train station is very upbeat. As they did when we were arriving, the
crowd sings along with the buskers in the covered way as they pass this time it’s
Daydream Believer. Everyone knows the words. Great song.
The police are on crowd control at the station and an
orderly queue snakes down past a donut stand. There’s one charming queue
jumper. I let the locals deal with her but she’s persistent, says she has to
get the next train or she won’t be able to get home. Oh yeah. General attitude
is cynical and basically, everyone’s in the same boat suck it up princess, but
very cordially expressed. I’m paraphrasing. She’s behind me so I don’t need to
get involved. It’s a beautifully clear, mild night. The queue doesn’t take long
but still, although we’ve enjoyed milling with the crowd, Hubby wishes he’d
driven in. Standing still is more of a problem for him than walking about. We’re home at a civilised hour people are
still up and we talk about the show. We’re tired but pretty hyped up and in
need of a wind down chat before retiring. Another fun day in Glasgow.
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