An autumn day in Glasgow

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The last time I went to Glasgow was on a very hot day in the summer of 1982. I was with my family and we had driven up for the day from the south of Scotland where we holidayed frequently at our caravan. I had spent some pocket money on an album by Visage, one of my favourite groups of the time, and it was so hot that the vinyl record melted in the boot of our car. It’s funny, the things we remember. I don’t recall anything else about that day or any other childhood visits, so yesterday’s long overdue return was like going for the first time…. and this time it definitely wasn’t hot.

One of the best ways to get a flavour of a city when time is short is by boarding a sightseeing bus. Although still quite mild for November, it was a bit nippy on the open top deck. We started our tour at George Square where Christmas decorations had already been installed .

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Statue of Sir Robert Peel, founder of the modern  British police service
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Glasgow is already bedecked with stunning Christmas decorations

The agreeable voice of suave TV historian Neil Oliver provided the recorded commentary as we wound our way around the city.

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The first Duke of Wellington has been in situ outside of the Gallery of Modern Art since 1844 but with a more recent addition to his attire

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Glasgow has some fantastic murals. It would be worth spending a day looking at the city’s outstanding street art (I might well do that!). I love this depiction of the city’s founder, Saint Mungo, on High Street. Represented as a modern man, Mungo tenderly handles the bird that never flew which he is said to have restored to life after having been wrongly blamed for its death. The story of the wild robin tamed by Mungo’s master, Saint Serf, is part of the story of the city’s origins and is included in its motto:

‘Here is the bird that never flew

Here is the tree that never grew

Here is the bell that never rang

Here is the fish that never swam.’

 

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Billy Connolly mural
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Charles Rennie Mackintosh

The tollbooth steeple clock stands at the junction of four main mediaeval streets. It is all that remains of the early 17th century civic building which it had once stood atop.

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I didn’t visit the Purple Cat cafe, but thought it was a great name!

 

Glasgow Green is in the city’s east end. I really wanted to spend some time here exploring the beautiful People’s Palace but in the end we didn’t have time to go back; such a shame as it looked so lovely, but even more reason to visit again!

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We journeyed on alongside the river Clyde, passing the Riverside Museum and Scottish Events Campus

 

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Scottish Events Campus – the armadillo
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Scottish Events Campus – the Hydro

From the riverside location our bus continued towards the west of the city. It was a bright and sunny day and the colours of autumn were glorious.

 

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Alighting in salubrious Kelvingrove, we enjoyed a warming and very tasty lunch near the welcoming coal fire of The 78, a popular vegan bar restaurant with a relaxed atmosphere and an interesting and delicious menu.

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Warmed and reinvigorated, we walked to our main destination, the Kelvingrove Art Gallery and Museum, stopping at the bridge over the river Kelvin to admire the water below,  the autumnal trees and the bronze-cast sculptures, including this 1926 depiction of Philosophy and Inspiration. I have a feeling that the skull’s eyes are a much more recent addition.

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The grounds of Kelvingrove Gallery are lovely and are a perfect setting for the location of the many exquisite objects within.

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Having come to the end of our mini tour of a marvellous city, off we went to enjoy some awesome Scottish art and art-deco designs which I’ll be sharing with you soon.

 

 

 

Birkenhead Priory

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In 1150, an order of Benedictine monks established a Priory church at Birkenhead on the estuary of the river Mersey. They were the first Mersey ferry men, supervising travellers on their journeys across the river. The Benedictine community seems to have lived quietly on the site, though there are records of some of the monks having had colourful pasts, including one who had been convicted of murder but had travelled to Rome for absolution from the Pope before commencing a life of religious devotion at Birkenhead.

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Over the next 200 years, the site was developed with the addition of a hostel and scriptorium. A small monastic community lived at Birkenhead until the Priory was dissolved in 1536, after which it was sold into private ownership.

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The Priory is small and has a tiny but pretty garden which includes a couple of herb beds, sadly having lost their characteristic scents as winter looms. I imagine it’s peaceful sitting here in the warmer months.

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By the 19th century, the chapter house had been left to become a ruin but is now back in use for religious services. The congregation must be small but what a lovely place to gather.

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Above the chapter house is the scriptorium which is dedicated to HMS Conway, a navy teaching vessel which was founded in 1859  to improve the training of merchant navy officers. The original ship was replaced twice over the next hundred years but the new ships retained the name. At the time of my visit one of the Conway ‘old boys’ was on hand, talking to visitors about his time on board.

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The ship was moored at Birkenhead near to the Priory before being moved to Anglesey during World War II when German bombers started targeting Liverpool, England’s second major port. She met her end in 1953 when returning to Birkenhead for a refit, and running aground.

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Behind the church, the outer wall has been transformed and spotlights added. This must make a stunning sight by night,

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The Priory undercroft is smaller than I had expected and slightly cluttered by the addition of some exhibits which I felt took something away from what could have been a very serene space. However, cleverly arranged lighting showed the exquisite arched ceilings.

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From the undercroft a stair case leads up to the tower and to a spectacular view of Birkenhead and Liverpool but the day was declining and I had another place to visit, so I wasn’t tempted to climb the 100+ spiralling steps.

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The links to the river have remained. Camell Laird ship building yard provides an interesting juxtaposition as a large yellow crane looks down on the Priory grounds.

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William Laird set up the Birkenhead Iron Works in 1824, its prime purpose being the manufacture of boilers. His son, shipbuilder John Laird, joined him 4 years later and the company soon became pre-eminent in the manufacture of iron ships. John Laird & Sons joined with Sheffield firm, Cammell Johnson in 1900.

John Laird became Birkenhead’s first mayor and was responsible for bringing about great improvements in the town, including maintaining a police force. He also served as the town’s first MP from 1861 to 1874. He is buried in the graveyard next to his shipyard.

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For me, this was the perfect time of year to walk among the fallen leaves and enjoy the battering of the coastal wind against ancient stones which have stood for nearly a millennium and may still be there for another.

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Birkenhead: Stories of war and sea (and hidden treasure)

A hundred years ago today, English war poet Wilfred Owen was killed in northern France, just one week before Armistice Day – 11th November 1918 – marked the end of World War One. I was first introduced to Wilfred Owen at school, and during the decades since then I have been moved and disturbed in equal measure by Owen’s graphic depictions of the realities of war through the eyes of one who lived it.

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This year marks the centenary of the end of the Great War and has engendered much media attention, including the story about the unveiling of a statue of Wilfred Owen in his home town of Oswestry in Shropshire. I was surprised to read that the poet spent a significant part of his life in the town of Birkenhead where his father had worked on the rail network, mainly at the now demolished Woodside Station near to the docks.

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The Wilfred Owen Story in Birkenhead is run by a charity and celebrates Owen’s connections to the town and his war poetry. The weekend of the 100th anniversary of his death seemed like an ideal time to take a look in combination with visits to two other local places of interest. Unfortunately, this was not to be. The Wilfred Owen Story is only open on three weekdays for just a few hours, with no exception being made this weekend despite the historic occasion.

After exploring other parts of Birkenhead, I returned to Hamilton Square en route to my final destination. Even though it was just 3 o’clock, it was a grey afternoon and the sun hadn’t broken through the cloud cover all day. The elegant Georgian Square was all but deserted and I enjoyed the colours of autumn in solitude as I walked the pathways by the cenotaph.

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A chance encounter led to another war time story and a tale of treasure salvaged from a distant sea bed. As I trained my lens on the cenotaph, the only other person in the Square paused so as not to walk into my shot. I thanked him, and this led to an interesting conversation.

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Keith ‘Scouse’ Cooper told me the story of a world record breaking salvage operation which took place in 1981 in the Barents Sea 240 km off the coast of Russia and Norway.

Over 400 bars of gold bullion were retrieved from the wreck of HMS Edinburgh which was scuttled by her crew on 2nd May 1942 to avoid capture, three days after being hit by torpedo fire by German U-boats. The gold – worth about 1.5 million pounds (about 65 million in today’s money) had been loaded just days earlier in Mumansk, Russian part-payment for supplies and military equipment, and was on its way to Britain.

After nearly 40 years on the sea bed, the  bulk of the gold was finally brought up from the designated war grave more than 800 metres down. Keith was one of the divers involved in the international salvage operation. I asked Keith if he’d got rich from his share of the proceeds; he told me the money was long gone.

Back home, I found this film online, which follows the Salvage of The Century  operation as it unfolds and the gold is hauled up by ‘Scouse’ Cooper and the other divers.

Scouse’s story linked perfectly to my next port of call which was a few minutes’ walk away next to the Mersey Ferry terminal at Woodside landing stage. Before going in, I spent a few minutes looking across the river Mersey to Liverpool waterside which looked quite lovely as dusk started to descend.

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Woodside terminal
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The commercial district
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The three graces
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The two Cathedrals

The U-Boat Story is an unusual museum and is well worth a visit. It offers an opportunity to see what life was like on board the actual German submarine, U- 534, the last U-Boat to leave Germany, which was brought to Birkenhead in 1993.

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It is still a mystery as to why U-534 and the two other type 22 submarines which accompanied her defied the German command to surrender on the morning of 5th May 1945 when World War II was declared over. Instead, her crew fired torpedoes at the British coastal command bombers which had spotted the German subs off the coast of Denmark. After some exchange of fire, a depth charge sank U-534. Almost all of her crew escaped and were rescued.

In the 1980s, suspicions arose that this last U-Boat to leave Germany might have been carrying Nazi treasures to be hidden in Norway and reclaimed after the war. She was eventually raised from the bed of the North Sea but no treasures were discovered. She was cut into the five sections, making it possible for visitors to see her interior.

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It’s impressive to see how the submarine survived four decades on the sea bed, and the interesting and informative audio visual recordings make it easier for those of us who are not mechanically-minded to make sense of what we are viewing.

 

 

 

Inside, the exhibition centre has an interesting display which includes U534’s time line and houses additional artefacts which were recovered.

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A display of everyday items including wine, board games, shaving equipment and personal nick-nacks remind visitors of the ordinary human lives combatants lived before and during the conflict, and that those lost were not just militia, but men.

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Anthem for Doomed Youth -Wilfred Owen

What passing-bells for these who die as cattle?
Only the monstrous anger of the guns.
Only the stuttering rifles’ rapid rattle
Can patter out their hasty orisons.
No mockeries now for them; no prayers nor bells,
Nor any voice of mourning save the choirs, –
The shrill, demented choirs of wailing shells;
And bugles calling for them from sad shires.

What candles may be held to speed them all?
Not in the hands of boys, but in their eyes
Shall shine the holy glimmers of goodbyes.
The pallor of girls’ brows shall be their pall;
Their flowers the tenderness of patient minds,
And each slow dusk a drawing down of blinds.