East, West, Hame's Best

It's often said by people in the west, that the best thing to come out of Edinburgh is the Glasgow train, and here it is, about to leave the beauties of Princes Street for the 50 minute journey to its rival in the murky surroundings of Queen Street Station.

I have been to-ing and fro-ing between east and west for the better part of 50 years and it never gets any easier for me to bridge the divide between the glamour of Edinburgh and the busy commercialisation of its neighbour.

Edinburgh is home and has a comfortable well kent feel about it, despite the jibes about the unfriendly people and its toffy nosed demeanour. Much of this is true, although I think it has become more cosmopolitan in outlook since my childhood when it resembled more of a village, and when it was possible to walk along Princes Street on a Saturday morning and meet many people you knew.
Now despite the hordes of people in the city centre of a morning, there is not one familiar face.

I lived in Glasgow for 10 years and loved the cheery, democratic, garrulous mix of its population. But I never felt truly at home and I can always remember the feeling of depression that descended when motoring through from the east and coming back into the stygian gloom of the Clydebridge Steelworks in Cambuslang and being nearly home.
Glasgow is big and sprawling with many lovely green spaces and expensive residential areas, but to me it doesn't seem to have a centre because it is so large.

Goodness knows what brought that blog on. I think I was trying to say something about my blip of Waverley Station which was passed from on high on my way into town this morning.
And yes, what do you know, I didn't see one person I recognised Princes Street, and I will always hold Glasgow in my affections since 4 of my children are Glaswegian by birth, 3 went to university there and #4 daughter still lives there.

I can't shake the old place off so lightly