St. George’s Cross was an interesting part of the walk. Outside the Subway was an interesting chalked drawing of a loch scene with a mountain and what looked like Jupiter or Saturn high up in the sky. I came to a square with a statue of St. George and the dragon in the centre, liberally bedecked with pigeons, and I was glad to see it, a reminder of why it’s just fine to detour in the city. I wasn’t 100% sure how to get from there to the next stop, Cowcaddens, and it was there that I turned to Google Maps for the first time. On the way I came across some intriguing desert island-style graffiti and an art installation encouraging touch in an underpass. As a person with touch sensitivities, I declined, instead moving on and I soon discovered I was in Chinatown, coming to a cash-and-carry and lots of businesses catering to the Chinese community. On the corner facing these was an intriguing, generously decorated block as well as a water fountain dedicated to James Torrens, a town councillor in the latter part of the 19th century.
In the underpass leading to Cowcaddens was another art piece, this time featuring hands in various gestures, none of them deliberately rude that I could see. With my disappointment I walked on and soon heard bagpipes. Remembering that nearby is the National Piping Centre, I wasn’t surprised to see a young guy in full Highland dress, sans jacket, standing outside the Centre doing his stuff. I soon came near to Cineworld where a taxi was broken down outside. This was proper city centre now and I stopped outside the Royal Concert Hall to write notes and just sit for a bit. A busker nearby, by the Donald Dewar statue, was playing some possibly modern indie tune then burst into ‘That’s Entertainment’. I resisted joining in with the Hibs version about Martin Boyle and Brandon Barker.
I was now halfway through. It was still roasting but I was still feeling fine, not exhausted, keeping going.
Buchanan Street was station number eight out of fifteen and I had paused on the steps to look down the street towards St. Enoch, the river and Cathkin Braes beyond. The street was very busy with street bars doing a roaring trade and buskers and drummers making a din as I walked spiritedly past, bound for St. Enoch and another pause in our story.