When I’ve not been able to get to Scottish hills there’s always been Glasgow, the town centre with its undulating hills, grid system, and fine Georgian architecture able to evoke a small liveable mixture of New York and San Francisco on the Clyde. I’d just got my bus pass at 60 and took a bus up to the top of the town to look at it. After that I walked home to the south side. Firstly down the city centre’s Georgian canyoned, tobogganing hills to the river at the heart of the city. Then over Bells Bridge and on to the south side. I always feel I’m back in old Glasgow then. On through Pollokshields which for me always brings to mind Van Morrison’s Cypress Avenue (different city I know). On into Pollok country park: the pace of the city just drops away to nothing as you enter the park. Out and past the high flats that they’re knocking down. Up past Eastwood church where the Stirling Maxwells used to worship at the time of World War One. After that I’m home. When you walk through a city you are always walking through time as well as space and that’s what I really love about an urban walk. (Bert Thomson, 62)