I check my pocket watch. Its 8pm. Dressed in my best suit, bowler hat and walking stick, I stride out into Strathbungo. Its a beautiful evening in one of the greatest cities of the world. GLASGOW.
A city where everyone is chasing the same dream – work hard, earn hard. Industry is everywhere. Shipbuilding, engineering, printing, textiles, architecture, furniture making, banking, insurance and whisky. Its a smoking cauldron of innovation, imagination and opportunity.
I dip my hat to those in Queens Park, who are also enjoying the last embers of rare sunshine. Its a fascinating and extraordinary place. Last Saturday our band of brothers were doing our usual raft of exercises including hammer-throwing, putting the ball, tossing the caber and pole vaulting. We spotted a group from the Young Men’s Christians Association playing an exciting new form of exercise. It was very simple – kick a ball about and score through a bundle of old clothes marking the goalposts. They had played all day and were thoroughly enjoying themselves. Winning was everything. It inspired all of my group of friends. We really wanted to join in. We did just that.
I’m off to 3 Eglington Terrace, where we decided to meet again and discuss what we had seen. We said we would meet at 8:30pm. Its Tuesday 9th July, 1867.