From Backroads to Broadway

Day 10, July 7, Glasgow

We took the hour-long train ride from Waverley Station in Edinburgh to Queen Street Station in Glasgow, then walked about two minutes to our hotel, the Carlton George. Our room was ready, so we took advantage of an early check-in, unpacked a bit, then began a self-guided tour of the Mural Trail, a series of murals scattered throughout the City Centre.

We included a walk along the River Clyde, which winds through the city, then grabbed some take-away and returned to our room to eat, rest, and finish unpacking before dinner at The Anchor Line.

The atmosphere was awesome — the 1920s-inspired restaurant featured high ceilings, dark wood, linen napkins, and pristine white walls adorned with vintage transatlantic travel posters and period photographs that spoke to an elegant, more refined period. It truly felt like taking a step back in time. We enjoyed delicious food (including the Rhubarb Refresher for me) and outstanding service before toddling back to the hotel for a quiet evening.

<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>><<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> 

The Glasgow Vibe

Leaving Edinburgh was easy peasy! With minimal effort and confusion, we hopped onto the train, catching up on our plans as we sat there pointing, clicking, and updating for the next few days. The ride was so quick we didn’t even catch a wink of a nap…..dun, dun DUN!!!

I remember as we were looking at hotels in Glasgow, stumbling onto one with a description that read like a dream. Now I know there is such a thing as embellishing the facts. Heck, men have been doing it since we’ve been able to walk upright! However, at the mention of “secret passageways,” I looked further! When they inserted the big offering of “crystal decanters of gin, sherry, and whisky in every room” I felt obligated to sign up! NOT because I’m a big on the drink; I just wanted to experience the “fantasy”! That part of the fairytale was a bit of a farce….

All that said, the Carlton George Hotel was perfect for our time in Glasgow. Nearby transportation was very accessible, and almost everything we wanted to experience was within easy walking distance. It was also nice to have an amazingly helpful staff that was always available for moments when we were either lost, confused, or just in need of assistance with hailing a cab at 3:00 a.m.! I would definitely be willing to stay there again if we return!

Later the same day I was reminded of a certain joke dropped on me by Bobby White, a mountainous man and cherished co-worker some 23 years ago. While I may not be very good at remembering jokes on the fly, this one has been a steady companion any time I’m in need of its wisdom and humor……ready?

-How do you eat an elephant?

-One bite at a time!

I know it’s a bit ridiculous, but now and then when I’m undertaking a Herculean task I am reminded to take my time. Bobby has since gone to the land of the eternal deer hunt where the blind is always stocked with chilled beverages and the deer roam around the set like a carnival arcade…..I like to think I’ve now passed along a bit of Bobby with today’s text (kindest regards for the momentary indulgence.).

As an example of perseverance, the first thing I wanted to check off our itinerary was a self-guided mural trail walk in Glasgow. Having been lucky enough to check in when we first arrived, we would be getting a MASSIVE head start on this, for lack of a better word, challenge. I mean, you know when you look at a map and it’s all VERY two-dimensional and everything seems so close together, yeah? Well, I’ll be the first to admit…..the map wasn’t misleading. It was MAD wrong. Kirk was, however, really good-natured about the walk.

The first mural was handsome, huge, and easy to get to with very little effort. With the first one down, there were only 30 more to find…..the second mural was a haul! Starting down an incredibly sharp hill heading toward the second mural, we were fighting gravity all the way down the nasty incline. Realizing the mural wasn’t as mural(ly) as I expected, we snapped a pic with a hedge of thistles (because that was how I was feeling in the moment) and started heading right back up that hill. Agreeing to stop at each block on our way up the hill to gather ourselves before continuing our ascent, we were almost at the halfway point when a lone cab driver pulled up beside us and waved. I kept singing the lyrics to “What Goes Up (Must Come Down)” very quietly so no one would think I was crazy, and we eventually made it to the top and continued the trail for several more stops.

Unfortunately, we didn’t complete the six-mile journey.

Encouraging each other to speak up when one or the other is feeling some sort of way, today we were both “DONE”. Understanding the (not-so-subtle) signals we were each sending after mural # 18, we returned to the hotel, organized a bit, and I laid down for an hour-long nap. I was honestly glad Kirk tapped me on the leg, letting me know I had been sleeping though my nap alarm…..

After my brief break for a snooze, Kirk wanted to explore. He mentioned noticing an area during our walk and wanted to go back. Unsure of which street he was referring to, I started the tour over in my head and almost sprained my wee brain before finally describing it to the hotel staff and being pointed directly to Buchanan Street.

It was BIZARRE! When my nap began, the city was calm, uncrowded, and chill. Now, however, It was like everyone, everywhere had come out to play at the exact same time. As we walked around, I realized the sun was out and shining brightly, noticing how everyone was sitting, standing, and even lounging on rocks, soaking up the sun like reptiles. What Kirk wanted to explore turned out to be a cute, tourist-friendly souvenir shop. We stocked up on a few essentials that will probably sit on the counter or tabletop until the evening before Cristina comes when we will rush to tidy up a bit…….don’t judge us!

Depositing our loot, we headed to dinner (unless you’re at my sister’s house, where she prefers to call it supper). Kirk and I agreed we were hungry and were ready for a bite, so off we popped to a local spot that we both really enjoyed a ton!

Walking through the bar area, which felt very luxurious, left us struck by the fine finishes throughout the restaurant. The Anchor Line was the type of place Mom and Dad would describe as so fancy, referring to their “linen napkins” as an example of the finery. Both my parents loved to find nice local restaurants for us to try when I would go home. Sometimes the pickins’ could be a bit slim in a town the size of Ratliff City, but they always found some new place to try, so it was always another fun adventure to tag along with them! (Great. I didn’t expect to have a “moment” while working on this entry……!)

Back on track now. We eased into our evening.

It was easy to spot the restaurant’s “vibe”. Very retro. Very steamliner. Very lux. We fit in like a couple of ducks at a wedding. The name of the restaurant should have been enough of a clue as to the setting for dinner. The only thing missing was two lovers embracing on the balcony as a Titanic ice sculpture melted onto the floor poetically.

As for the meal, who cares?!? Oh, don’t get me wrong, the service was outstanding and the food was as indulgent as either of us could have hoped for. But we were too distracted by the entire scene and couldn’t resist plotting our next course at their New York location,  leaving with full bellies and another item tucked into our “To Do” list for NYC!

______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Day 11, July 8, Glasgow

Ron and I walked to the Glasgow City Chambers (Municipal Buildings) to meet our group for a walking tour of the City Centre area. Before the tour started, we went into the Chambers , an ornate structure that houses the city government and sits on the east side of George Square, to rest my aching back.

The building has been used for Glasgow’s city government since 1889 and is VERY Victorian in design, as judged by my selfie with the ceiling above me. The city offers free tours of the stately structure, but unfortunately we didn’t have time to squeeze that into our schedule. Maybe next time!

We joined our tour just before the start time and met guide Liz, a native Glaswegian who appeared to be about Ron’s age. After joking that she was using her best BBC accent, she also said “that’s as good as it’s gonna get.” Fortunately, we had no trouble understanding or hearing her, as she clearly set expectations and gave instructions.

As we walked around the City Centre for the next 90 minutes, she pointed out downtown’s most iconic sites: the old site of the University of Glasgow, the University of Strathclyde, Glasgow Cathedral, and, on a personal note, the church where her parents got married. She dispensed interesting tidbits along the way, all the while keeping a close eye on our rather large group (20 people or so). For once, neither Ron nor I were the stragglers!

The tour ended at the Gallery of Modern Art, where a statue of the Duke of Wellington attracts visitors due to an intriguing array of headwear the Duke has worn over the years (he usually sports an orange traffic cone). Liz said the headwear tradition started in the 1980s, probably by some inebriated college students, and reflects the Glaswegian distrust of authority and cheeky sense of humor. Over the years his headwear has included a “Yes” cone (and a Scotland flag in the statue’s stirrup) in support of the Scottish Independence referendum in 2014; a cone adorned with the colors of the EU flag on Brexit Day; a Black Lives Matter cone; and a cone with a crocheted blue and yellow cover in a gesture of support for Ukraine .

When the tour was over, Ron and I spent about 90 minutes inside the Gallery of Modern Art. Modern art is not usually my favorite genre, but I do enjoy the spare galleries often found in modern art museums and can usually find one gallery that intrigues me — and this visit was no different.

Canadian/Irish artist Ciara Phillips was featured in an exhibit titled “Undoing It”; by scraping, rubbing, and pressing wood, copper, nylon, and paper, she has created a printed record of recent thoughts and actions. Her large-format works ranged from expressive, abstract compositions to notes outlining printing plans, measurements, and color choices. I was impressed by her choice of materials as well as her creativity and could have easily spent more time absorbing and admiring her work.

Dinner that evening was at Miller & Carter, a renowned steakhouse in downtown Glasgow often deemed the best place in the city for steak. The surroundings were luxurious: it once housed a bank and we could still smell the money, with marble columns and floor, dark wood, and high ceilings. Heck, you could easily imagine that teller windows once stood in the space now occupied by a glamorous bar that had to be 40 feet long.

Ron and I perused the menu. After some soul-searching, we opted to skip the “nibbles” and “starters” because we wanted to save room for some fabulous Scottish beef, and Miller & Carter did NOT disappoint! I grazed on the 8-ounce filet while Ron had the 9-ounce rump cut; our delicious main courses were accompanied by wedge salads, Camembert mash, and sauteed greens and chantenay carrots. And we couldn’t resist dessert, so we split the double Belgian chocolate brownie. Yum! What a way to end our first day in Glasgow!

P.S.: Miller & Carter has a feature that I’ve not seen before and might not see again: the original HUGE door to the bank vault in still in the basement and protects…..the toilets. The door had to be at least two feet thick of solid steel. Talk about a safe place to hit the loo!

<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>><<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> 

Visiting St. Mungo

Maybe we didn’t get the breakfast we had planned, but we grabbed a gracious plenty (as Kirk likes to say) and made our way over to meet up with tour guide Liz for a walking tour of the City Centre. Secretly I was hoping to bump into at least a couple of the murals we didn’t get to knock out the day before, so I kept an eye out, doubling down on this experience.

Liz was amazing! In her slides, she maneuvered through the City Centre more quickly than anyone in our group. Stopping once in a while for stragglers to catch up, she explained a lot of the area’s history. The bit that hit me hardest was the topic of slave trade between Glasgow and the tobacco-growing plantation owners in America. Honestly and openly discussing the impact and ramifications of the slave trading alliance really put into perspective how pervasive it was. I never really gave much thought to what, where, how, and who were all involved. Remaining thankful for her candor, I will feel happy with this vacation if only for the insight and perspective Liz provided for us.

Back to the tour, though. Liz did hit a handful of the murals. The mural of St. Mungo, created by artist Smug, was my favorite. Not only is the mural artistically beautiful, it has a beautiful message as well. At the time of its creation, a lot of people were upset that the artist conceptualized the figure as an ordinary man and not as a traditional saint. Smug chose the clothes to highlight the plight of the city’s homeless and downtrodden, and he added a small bandage to represent the saint’s humanity. Lastly, he chose the robin to represent a miracle he once saw as a child and the hope that miracle represented to him.

The tour could have ended there for me. Thankfully, it didn’t. Although I appreciated the remainder of the tour, this image and story will be one of the brightest highlights of this vacation. Thank you for agreeing to this tour, honey!

The afternoon’s visit to the Glasgow Gallery of Modern Art was going to be experimental for me. Attempting to find a calm and relaxed way to approach our occasional visits to museums, we stopped by the hotel and picked up my trusty headphones. Having opted for a Museum Mix of music curated via Spotify, I slid through the museum accompanied by a lighthearted soundtrack.

Once I had ambled through the galleries, just out of curiosity, I decided to check out their library downstairs. While passing by the information counter inside, I found myself talking with one of the staff librarians. Out of the blue, I decided to ask if they could tell me the titles and authors of the top three books that have been borrowed from their library. The staff librarian — working away on the list and mentioning that he had never been asked that question by a visitor — hopped on to their database and began. Within a minute or two, the remaining librarians chipped in with their help, and everyone seemed to be very keen to see what the results would be.

At one point, one of the three asked about our vacation while the others continued to hunt. We gabbed for a bit. She was very lovely, pointing out some local fish and chip shops we should try if we caught the hankering…..I tucked the names into my phone. Eventually the gentleman gave me a smile, handed me a yellow sticky note with the three titles handsomely scrawled across it and wished me a continued merry visit. Earnestly intending to give the three books a go, I happily exited the library, meeting Kirk on the way out, before making out like bandits in their gift store.

Oh, the three books? Almost forgot to add them……

Loyalty — Martina Cole

Wrong Sister — Claire Douglas

Past Lyin’ — Val McDermid

More out of a whim than from curiosity, Kirk and I walked to one of the single most specific museums we have ever visited. Grinning like a couple of old fools, we walked into The National Piping Centre. Please bear in mind, we had zero expectations for this escapade. It was more of a “when in Rome” situation……

We had barely taken a step inside before we were both greedily reaching into the basket of chanters sitting atop the table. Honestly, I don’t know how the folks at the welcome desk resisted demanding that we desist. Standing there, blaring our brains out while trying to make something that resembled music, we finally stopped when another couple entered the centre.

Maybe we didn’t spend a lot of time in this space but the chaotic noise we created together still haunts me…..

Growing up in a very meat-and-potatoes family, especially having raised my fair share of livestock, you’d think I would feel right at home in an establishment like Miller & Carter Glasgow. Au contraire! Realizing within seconds of us sitting down that I was well out of my depth, I chose to follow fate.

After our server Jess gave us a round of libations and a couple of extra minutes to discuss, Kirk made his selection as I sat twisting the linen beneath the table until finally choosing to follow her recommendations. Easily seeing the tables nearby stacked and covered with mouth-watering morsels, I trusted my process and relaxed knowing we were in good hands.

It was very cute, though; while waiting for our meal to arrive, Kirk took a break from the action. When our server stopped by to check on us, I mentioned he would be back momentarily. Seconds later he was back at our seats giving me “Look # 3”. Having done nothing, I was immediately curious. Sort of nervously laughing, he said that I had to see it for myself. During his break from the action, he had encountered an unusual decor element in the men’s room. Quickly making my way downstairs, it was easy to see where the excitement came from. I literally couldn’t stop myself from taking a couple of pics…….apologies for the restroom break mid-post.

The rest of the meal was less ridiculous and yet equally exciting. Everything was absolutely deliciously prepared and almost overly indulgent! Thankfully, we don’t eat like this every day back home……

______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Day 12, July 9, Glasgow

We began with a visit to Mackintosh at The Willow, a Charles Rennie Mackintosh-designed tearoom in downtown Glasgow. Megan the tour guide gave us a private tour of the tearoom, which was founded and owned by Catherine Cranston, a member of a prominent Glaswegian family and a force to be reckoned with.

Miss Cranston — whose great-grandfather and great-uncle rose to prominence after being orphaned and taken in by a Glasgow family, and worked hard to build their own fortune — was a progressive employer who hired women, provided a competitive wage, paid sick time, and had a “ladies’ tea room” and a “gentlemen’s tea room” (neither one entertained visitors of the opposite sex). She employed Mackintosh to design the tea room — including chairs and chandeliers. Miss Cranston, who married late in life, left her entire fortune ($4.2 million in today’s dollars) to various charitable institutions in the city.

Next on our agenda was the Kelvingrove Art Gallery and Museum, a 20-minute walk from the City Centre. The building houses a wide variety of artifacts, including “Christ of St. John on the Cross,” a painting by Salvador Dali; a large collection of Impressionist paintings as well as those from groups known as the Scottish Colourists and The Glasgow Boys; a large exhibit on the history of Glasgow, complete with photography; a modern collection of Glasgow-area photographers; a stunning modern take on armor; a beautiful pipe organ, which Ron and I heard that day; and yes, a statue of Elvis.

From there, we walked another 20 minutes to the Glasgow Botanical Gardens, an oasis of green in a bustling city, filled with flowers, shrubbery, trees, and vegetables. This excursion also included a stop at Christie’s, where I purchased some Scottish-themed socks, and the gift shop at the University of Glasgow, where Ron and I picked up some wonderful loot to bring home!

<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>><<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> 

Inspiration Everywhere

Sometimes I suggest going somewhere based on a gut feeling. Oh, I still check the reviews, but it’s pretty much a visceral thing. As we waited for our tour of Mackintosh at the Willow, I really didn’t know what we were walking into. As the jackhammer started destroying the cobbled walkway across from the tearoom, I almost cancelled. The door clicked and we went in just to sort things out. The door closed and the street went silent……

Greeting the staff inside, we chatted with our prospective guide only to find out it would be just me and Kirk on the tour. Both of us were immediately happier with that news. Explaining that the tour would begin back outside, we stepped out and began. Within the span of a breath, the jackhammering began again. Tour Guide Megan was considerably more affected by it, but we said not to worry. We could hear her “just fine”.

The next hour and a half was very informative. It turns out that Miss Catherine Cranston was the proprietor. Hmmm, but unless you really dig into the history of the tearoom, her name is less pronounced than the designer and artist that provided the ambiance.

Miss Cranston’s story is very inspiring and interesting. As a strong woman of considerable (self-made) wealth and status, her impressive reputation as a go-getter and entrepreneur were happy revelations. Her desire to have things a certain sort of a way was VERY appealing to me (wink)! Refusing to compromise on her sense of refinement and expectations, Miss Cranston sounded like a businesswoman ahead of her time.

Please bear in mind, I’m not trying to diminish the work of Charles Rennie Mackintosh or his wife Margaret Macdonald Mackintosh. It’s undeniable they were suitable to the task Miss Cranston had requested. The entire space is incredibly charming and the artistry was inspired. When explaining the artwork in the upstairs ladies’ tearoom, the process of its creation, and the masterful use of gesso as the medium for creating the intricate pattern on the panel, I was dumbstruck. Revealing that the original gesso panel was on display at the Kelvingrove Art Gallery and Museum piqued my interest even more for our upcoming afternoon experience……

The wonderfully interesting story behind the recreated gesso panel (by Dai and Jenny Vaughan, Vaughan Arts) within the tearoom was also very endearing as well as beautifully crafted.

I’m just happy that Megan openly and candidly expressed Miss Cranston’s contributions not just to the tea room but to the community of Glasgow as well. This was an excellent way to begin our day!!

Next we proceeded to the Kelvingrove. While we were visiting this museum, Kirk and I split up to visit our respective areas of interest within the museum. No, I didn’t find any comic books to peruse, but I did locate the Scottish Colourists area on the map and made a Dee* line to it.

*A Dee line is the type of line a bee actually makes at it dawdles around from plant to plant, in no particular hurry because it realizes that as soon as it brings the nectar back to the hive it will be sent back out for more pollen….so really, why should he be in a rush?

As it turned out, I was practically the only person in the gallery. Listening to another Spotify Museum Mix, I meandered around snapping pictures, laughing now and then to myself until I noticed a small boy holding his mom’s hand; he was wearing blue headphones, too. Looking up at me looking down at him, he smiled and waved enthusiastically. His mom, crouching beside him, tried to quieten him. Uncovering an ear I waved back, said hello. He was happy to say a big “HELLO!”, causing his mother to blush. She looked at me and said he really liked my headphones and just wanted to say hello. Explaining to her that mine help me focus less on the crowd and more on the experience, she said her son has a “difficulty” similar to mine and that he’s learning. He left the room happily swinging her arm. I plopped the speaker back over my ear and re-read the same artwork label for the third time…….

Kirk and I bumped into one another shortly afterward and just in time to take a pic before the organist took his seat for the afternoon recital. The organ was massive! It was also beautiful! But, much like bagpipes….I can only listen for so long……Stepping away from the performance, I went into the Mackintosh and the Glasgow Style gallery and visited the original gesso panel, originally created by Margaret Macdonald Mackintosh. The room was filled with beautiful pieces of artwork and craftsmanship, but this piece stands on its own. This panel (alone) is worth the visit to the Kelvingrove.

Needing to spend some time outdoors, we went for a hike to the Glasgow Botanical Gardens. Citymapper said it was a 22-minute walk….yeah, as long as I’m not trying to read directions while eating a hot sausage roll as we dodge all the vehicles plowing toward me from the WRONG SIDE of the road!

Ultimately it was yet again another amazing green space provided for locals, filled with wonderful plantings, gardens, and loads of character. Seriously though, what’s up with everyone here having green thumbs?!? In particular, the Kibble Palace is an exceptional visit. The beautifully crafted Victorian-style glasshouse is definitely a showstopper even for someone who has never successfully kept a plant alive longer than the return policy that accompanies it……thank you, Home Depot!

Kirk and I took our time — you know, ‘cause that’s how two old coots roll, enjoying a hidden trail off to the side and then investigating the rest of the park for any suspicious nooks and crannies to enjoy. However, much like the local residents, we mostly just soaked up the sun and enjoyed a bit of leisure time as we contemplated the serious stuff like where to shop next?

______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Day 13, July 10, Glasgow

The day began with an early visit to Glasow Necropolis, which houses the remains of (and ornate monuments of) of prominent Glaswegian merchants and businesspeople and their families dating back to the 1830s. Perched on a low but prominent hill above the city, the Necropolis provides a stunning view (when there isn’t mist or fog, as there was this day).

We walked around the cemetery for perhaps 30 minutes, pausing now and again to reflect quietly, take in the massive monuments, and read the inscriptions on the gravestones. It was sad but not surprising to see how many children are buried there — the life expectancy then wasn’t great, and there were a couple of instances where a family lost several children at a very early age.

We meandered back down the switchback path, crossed The Bridge of Sighs, and headed to Glasgow Cathedral, which dates back to the 1100s and is the oldest building in the city. Its stunning architecture and stonework are a tribute to the hard work and creativity that built it. Bill, a retired engineer who served as our guide, led us through an hour-long tour; we visited the nave, the chapel, a “workroom” for the current minister, and the basement, which houses the remains of St. Mungo, patron saint of Glasgow. Not being a particularly religious person, I still enjoyed the majestic interior and respected the hushed tones that people used in a house of worship. I asked Bill if he and his wife attended services at the cathedral; he replied that they don’t because he’s not a religious person, but something about the cathedral attracts him and grounds him, and he enjoys his volunteer time there.

We walked back toward our hotel and grabbed a cab to The Burrell Collection, a beautiful museum outside the city that houses the art collection of Sir William Burrell, a Glasgow shipping magnate, and his wife Constance, Lady Burrell. Their collection features stunning pieces from a wide variety of styles, including Chinese porcelain, Murano glassware, armor, tapestries, prayer rugs, and artwork. The Collection has 9,000 pieces, with 3,000 pieces on display at a time, and it was outstanding; the Burrells were collectors on their own before their marriage, and continued that practice together, building an astonishing collection that they donated to the city.

Dinner that night was at Two Fat Ladies at the Buttery, simply known as The Buttery and thought to be the oldest restaurant in Glasgow. The restaurant is dark, with stained wainscoting, a plate rail that holds multiple cups, saucers, and plates, and plaid carpet. I told Ron it felt like being in Grandma’s house. The food was outstanding: Ron had Cullen skink again, followed by venison that was expertly prepared and accompanied by celeriac fondant, balsamic and fig jam, braised spring onions, and savoy cabbage, with a raspberry reduction. I enjoyed West Coast scallops with carrot and orange puree, scorched blood orange sections, artichoke crisps, and roasted hazelnuts, followed by a blood orange chocolate tart and a Victoria sponge with champagne-soaked strawberries, a vanilla Cremieux and strawberry yogurt ice cream. Delish!

<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>><<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> 

Crossing The Bridge Of Sighs

This morning, I finally realized how I would best describe Glasgow if asked for a one-word answer. I would say it’s approachable. From the wi-fi available for free to everyone, to the world-class museums, with free admissions for everyone to enjoy, Glasgow was very neighborly to us from the moment we stepped off the train.

I also appreciate that it doesn’t try to hide its imperfections. The homeless population is similar to what we see at home. But they are treated differently, more respectfully, and in turn there hasn’t been any uncomfortable exchanges or awkwardness. Throughout the city, major construction is underway as they update where they can while remaining true to their beginnings. There is a lot of “old meets new” as the city seems headed into a bright future instead of resigning to its decline.

Having already been introduced to the Bridge of Sighs leading to the Glasgow Necropolis during our earlier tour with Liz, we knew we wanted to begin our morning walk through this sacred place. The city of the dead rose above us on a hill steepled in Victorian-style memorials as it quietly stood overlooking Glasgow Cathedral and the city beyond.

Following no certain path and without someone leading us, we casually roamed the meandering pathways, stopping now and then to take pictures among the slumbering souls. Before long, we began seeing others out and about, enjoying their morning stroll.

Descending quietly from atop the Necropolis, we made our way down to the waiting arms of the Glasgow Cathedral below.

I’ve never gotten the same depth of experience from our visits to historic cathedrals and abbeys as Kirk. I contentedly follow along as he reads any accompanying materials available, occasionally opting for audio guides if they’re available. Within minutes of entering the cathedral, Kirk had found a guide to provide us with a more intimate dive into the hallowed space.

Joining another couple who were WAY more into the whole Goth nature of the church, we followed along and listened. Okay, we all know it was more of a case of “followed along” than Kirk…..

While the stained glass was beautiful and the history of the church well-expressed, I suddenly remembered as we stepped into the catacomb beneath the sanctuary that St. Mungo was at peace here…..

While I’m a novice when it comes to fully understanding his place in history, I do respect his efforts as a missionary as well as his role as the founder and patron saint of the City of Glasgow. His story absolutely created additional curiosity in me to find out more about his life when we get back to Dallas!

Sometimes it’s easy to forget that when you’re on vacation, not everyone around you is in the same mode. Realizing I would never be able to work in the hospitality industry (you know, because I’m not a “people” guy), I try to be mindful of others who may feel likewise. It doesn’t help that I have the type of face that reflects everything I’m thinking and feeling, more often than not at the worst possible time; I’m grateful Kirk understands my “quirks”!

This afternoon, on our way to the Burrell Collection, our non-conversation began and ended with one of the local drivers with “how are you?”; we realized it would be a quiet ride. As our table guests the previous night at the pizza restaurant would’ve said last night, we can be a bit “chatty”. Secretly, I blame Kirk……

As we rode, I could barely hear the music the driver has quietly playing from the driver’s seat. Driving along to the sound of screeching guitars and growling vocals, my interest was aroused.

Surprisingly, when I asked what he was listening to, he volunteered the name of the band (Saxon). Telling him I was creating a personal soundtrack to our trip, he suddenly began explaining how his love of 80s heavy metal had begun! By the time Kirk was handing him our fare, he had offered me a couple of other suggestions, saying the new stuff on the radio is “complete shite”! I smiled, agreed, and got the heck outta Dodge!

Soon we were deposited at The Burrell Collection. Remote? I mean, that’s one way to put it, I guess.

Built on sprawling acreage that was once a part of Pollock Country Park, it’s easy to appreciate the remoteness as you wind onto the campus. Lush meadows and fields carpet the area, serving as grazing land for a small herd of Highland cows and lazing-about areas for locals who just want to lay about on a beautiful summer day.

The museum, effortlessly tucked into the landscape, sort of blends in as the building’s colors and design feel inspired by nature. Within minutes of walking into the Collection, sunlight winking through the wall of stained glass, I felt very relaxed.

As a family-friendly setting, this museum provides world-class opportunities for families to get out and enjoy themselves not only in the museum galleries but outside, rolling down the small sloping hills or sunning while reading a book. Literally. All that and more was happening. It really was very, very nice!

As Kirk and I went on our separate journeys again, I began wandering around the museum with no particular section in mind. Kirk is much better at having at least one area on his “to see” list. I’ve been known to zombie my way through, hoping not to bite anyone’s head off. It’s a good thing I had an extra cappuccino this morning!!

A typical day at a (typically) busy museum would usually find me grumpy and disheveled at best. By the time we located a ride back to the hotel, I was absolutely glad we came!

Requesting a reservation based solely on a restaurant’s reputation can sometimes lead to major heartburn. As always, I will do a little light reading before suggesting to Kirk that we should consider giving it a go. I will admit to also paying very close attention to the “ratings”.

Now, when I was single I didn’t worry too much about the dive(ier) places; I would willingly take the risk even it if did mean the meal might eventually fight back. But Kirk is far less keen for the potential “vacationous interruptous,” a polite term for certain ailments that may not be suitable for all readers…..so I compromise (heh heh heh!)!

Having spent a little extra time looking into tonight’s restaurant, I had ZERO concerns.

When we arrived at Two Fat Ladies at the Buttery, the exterior of the building was rather unassuming and low-key. Obviously, we had to get pictures with the sign — how else would I remember where we had gone? The interior was exceptionally cozy. Being such an old, established restaurant, the years of happily created memories are easy to recognize. Much like your favorite granny’s home, the smells of the kitchen permeate the walls, having soaked into the woodwork like savory incense.

The hodgepodge of seating options were also very cheerful; as Kirk selected the bench seating along the wall, I sat facing him, inevitably drawn to the beautiful vintage tea kettles, dainty cups, and delicate saucers balanced on old wooden shelves cresting the tops of the wall throughout the restaurant. As we sat, Kirk enjoying a newly minted creation from the bar, I sipped my ginger beer concoction very contentedly as a soft and mellow mix of jazz music played in the hidden speakers on the shelf above.

Dinner was excellent. The service was interesting; it seemed as though at one point or another literally every server that evening came to our table either to take our order; bring our drinks, our food, their compliments, or the check; and lastly offer to call a taxi. It may be “The Buttery Way,” but it was very impressive even for two very picky Americans….. which I’m sure they don’t see very often.