I met a colleague today. In real life 3D and colour!
First time in the Westend in over nine months. It’s strange I forgot how Glasgow smells in the rain. It’s a Weeg thing. Only Glasgow smells like this. When it rains, hues of swamp rise from the Kelvin walkway, dust caked to the sidewalk by dampness, wet grass and flowers–weeds on pavement or planted rose boxes. It smells of traffic and echoes of people. Faint scents of laundry detergent, doobies, perfume, sweat. As the breeze picks up there are hints of brackish water brought in by the tidal Clyde, after all the ocean isn’t that far away.
I stand on slippery stones waiting for my colleague. Looking at violently pink parasols covering the outdoor area of the local pub–café–restaurant; I am not sure which iteration our old hunting ground is currently undergoing. I stood here almost 17 years ago for the first time on a rainy day also. While a drug addict broke into my car, parked in a ‘save’ lot. It was a heavy rain that day, when the smells of the city flooded my awareness for the first time.
‘Ah. It smells like home.’
My friend’s first sentence, while unboarding the plane, arriving back on a rainy day.