European City of Questions 1990

The purposes of art and science are to enable us/prompt us to/make us question the world around us. Culture involves art and science, therefore a city of culture should therefore be a city of questioning. Three questions I often associate with Glasgow are "Can I still feel my wallet in my pocket?", "How many shoe shops are there per capita here?" and "How orange is her face?" with variations along those lines though to be fair there weren't that many super-orange sunbed cases around yesterday.

As I most frequently encounter the city from the relative safety of the M8 additional questions arise such as "Can you smell chips?" at a particular point just past the RS warehouse when the smell of chips often enters the car.

One additional thing I have often pondered but never really investigated is the relatively simple question of "what on earth is that truncated flyover/walkway/bridgeything which stops dead forty feet above the Marriott's car park actually for?"

As I was on feet today I popped along to have a look at it from ground level. It wasn't any clearer although it does look quite purposeful when the guardrail and drainpipe are visible. I didn't have time to pop across the other other side to see whence it emerges and whether it was for pedestrians or cars and where it was supposed to be taking them and if it was possible to walk up. Is it a half-finished beginning or some half-demolished remains? Is it just a platform so that people can drop things onto the tops of cars or throw things onto the roof of the Marriott swimming pool?

I expect it shall remain a mystery, much the same as the nature of the strange powers wielded which enable one bloke to create the sensation of having a mullet in people standing close by. I managed to avoid buying anything I didn't need, probably only passively smoked two packets over the course of the day and generally had a happy day wandering about not quite daring to put on my sunglasses. I feel quite at home at home these days but always feel much more foreign when I go somewhere like Glasgow, not least because at one point I almost slipped on a dropped Greggsproduct whilst walking along eating an apple.