I’m in the Southside of Glasgow, walking through Pollokshields, one of the first garden suburbs to be created in Britain. The streets are wide and lined with Edwardian and Victorian villas, and red and blond sandstone tenements, and it’s a part of Glasgow that still feels spacious.
The trunks of huge mature lime trees that line the railway embankment are swathed with shiny greens of ivy leaves that tangle along the railings too, and I can hear a flock of long-tailed tits in the topmost branches. A heron flies low overhead, crossing streets and train lines.
