After the conference ended, I spent the rest of my weekend visiting old friends and old haunts in Glasgow. I lived in the Southside — vibrant, raw, full of diversity and creativity. Its wide range of cultures express themselves through delicious, unpretentious cafes and restaurants. In parts, the Southside borders on urban decay, but there’s an undeniable buzz and character that deeply charms.
The jazz scene is mind-blowing — having birthed artists such as Corto Alto, Fergus McCreadie, and the incredible collective Glitch 41, who put on monthly night shows at The Rum Shack (when I first saw Glitch, I needed help picking my jaw up off the floor).
Queens Park and Andy the Polymath
It was great going back to Queens Park in sunny weather — idling time away with friends on the slopes with a view of the city, strolling around the quiet parts of the forest or watching the insatiable mating attempts of bull pigeons by the big pond.
I stayed with my friend Andy, a fellow GP who works in remote accident and emergency departments on islands and in rural parts of Scotland. It’s work I used to do when I lived here— incredibly developmental and enriching for a GP, offering clinical breadth and autonomy that’s harder to find in England. Down south, the work is largely specialist-led, and this extended-practitioner skillset for GPs is underutilised. It’s a shame — I believe our generalist background is incredibly valuable in higher-acuity A&E environments. I do miss that work.
Andy is one of those special people we’re lucky to encounter in medicine. Not only is he capable of managing everything from piles to palliative care issues and heart failure to gunshot wounds, but he’s also an engineer by background. He has re-decorated, re-floored, and insulated his entire house — including building his own kitchen and bedroom wardrobes. On top of that, he constructed a music studio where he and his band practice, and he put together a large, impressive pen for the kids’ chickens. Goals.
One of the joys of medicine: you get access to very inspirational, humble people like Andy.
Robbie, the Freecycle Friend
Then there’s my mate Robbie. A journalist in Glasgow, he’s produced radio shows for the BBC — particularly focused on food and drink rooted in Scottish culture. He’s fascinated by life: arts, food, drink, architecture, anthropology, politics, land management — you name it. He bakes his own bread, ferments kombucha, pickles all sorts, and forages significant amounts of his own food. I’ve no idea how he finds the time, but his generosity of spirit means you often benefit from his talents, not infrequently.
We met in unusual circumstances. He’s my Freecycle friend. I was giving away hair clippers because I needed to upgrade to ones that had an attachment for trimming ear and nose hair — the joys of approaching middle age.
We got chatting. He looked like a quintessential hipster, rocking up with his unbranded bike, neat beanie and wispy goatee. He looked like he knew a thing or two about the local area, and I was in the market for new friends having just moved to a new city. I grabbed his number after a nice chinwag and was quite excited at the prospect of a new friendship.
We texted a bit. When I saw Andy and his mate Jeremy in the pub, I told them I was quite excited about a new friend I’d met through Freecycle. I mentioned he was a food journalist. Jeremy clocked it immediately — it was Robbie. He already knew him, and added: “I met him at a kids party and he was juggling.” Turns out he’s also circus trained.
“Wait, this is great. Let’s see if we can mess with his head. What does Robbie like?” I schemed.
“He likes organic wine, used to live in Guadeloupe, and loves foraging,” said Jeremy.
“Perfect.”
I immediately texted Robbie:
“Hi Robbie, since I’ve moved here, I haven’t managed to scratch an itch of mine. You don’t happen to know anyone who knows a thing or two about organic wines and could recommend a shop?”
Immediately he replied:
“Am I that much of a hipster stereotype?” And then he recommended three shops.
I responded:
“Next you’re going to tell me you used to live in Guadeloupe and love foraging.”
Confused expletives followed before I sent him a smug photo of Jeremy… and the friendship was borne.
The Blonde on the Plane
It was wonderful to go back and see the old clan — to experience the humility, warmth, and iconic craic of Glasgow.
As I got on the plane, I sat down and across the aisle, made eye contact with a pretty blonde woman — we smiled at each other.
Hmmm.
I worked on the plane, but as we landed and started to disembark, I noticed her again. There was a sweetness about her. She walked ahead, and I thought to myself — maybe I can find a way to start a conversation.
I caught up as we walked toward the exit, levelled beside her, looked over — and then bottled it. Walked past.
F*ck. Never mind.
I waited for my suitcase. She stood on the opposite side of the luggage carousel. Assuming the opportunity had passed, I grabbed my bag when it arrived and walked out. But just then, hers arrived too — and she came to stand right beside me.
SAY SOMETHING, YOU PANSY.
She looked like she’d been hiking, and her hat said something about trails.
“How was your hiking?” I blurted out.
She looked at me, squinted slightly, then responded warmly. The conversation went well. I could tell she was examining me, but she was open. She told me she’d signed up for a trail marathon. I said I’d just signed up for an event too. There was immediate chemistry.
It turned out she’s a two-time author, podcaster, life coach — an evidently talented human being. And gorgeous.
We exchanged details.
There’s a catch (always!!): she lives in America. I’ll still message her.
At the very least, a lovely interaction to draw to a close another fine Scottish adventure.
Haste ye back, old friend.
Mindful Medic 