As I write this, I’m staring out the window of Café Gandolfi in Glasgow’s Merchant City. It’s the Easter weekend and there’s a sudden flurry of snow. The wind is blowing it in all directions. I feel as though I’m in a Christmas snow globe. The quiet beauty of it is overwhelming.

For the record, I love Glasgow. The so-called bad weather, the Glasgow vernacular, the Glaswegian openness, the self-deprecation and the default to laughter when life is at its worst. Somehow I even love the terrible coffee, (but why does it have to be so bad and so expensive?). I love the dark winter skies that roll in and settle by 3.45pm and the early morning frosts that turn the slate roofs silver. 

If you ever visit, take the time to wander through the leafy West End, the Botanic Gardens, Kelvingrove Art Gallery, Glasgow University’s magnificent campus – then reward yourself with a fry-up at University Cafe on Byres Road. Anthony Bourdain ate there in 2015 and crowned it the Dao of Hot Fat and Crispy Batter. He also declared Glasgow one of his favourite cities on Earth and rather astutely remarked that “Glaswegians have more fun at a funeral, than Edinburgh people have at a wedding”. Glasgow/Edinburgh rivalry is akin to Sydney/Melbourne – very much alive and kicking. RIP Anthony. 

However, if Easter Sunday had been my first time visiting here I’d never have come back. Argyle Street, one of the main shopping strips in the centre, was heaving with more alcoholics and junkies than usual. The mood was sombre. The rain hammered like that scene in Das Boot where the captain is on the bridge being pounded by ten foot waves; the freezing wind was barreling up Buchanan Street, home to the Charles Rennie Mackintosh inspired Willow Tea Rooms and the best scones the city has to offer.

Homeless people huddled in the doorways of the House of Fraser department store and pulled what blankets they had up tight around their necks. The luckier ones had plastic sheets. The 18th century B-listed building that had backed onto Glasgow Central Station and stood for 175 years lay in ruins after the fire just a couple of weeks before. All of that breathtaking architecture reduced to a pile of heartbreaking rubble thanks to a fire that started in the ground floor vape shop that went on to engulf all five floors. People queued to take selfies in front of what little was left standing. A bereft corner of the city captured on a thousand iPhones.

In general the mood here is low. Big Pharma is having a field day. More than a million Scots (population of 5.5 million) are on antidepressants. In further disturbing stats, 28% of people in Greater Glasgow area are morbidly obese and 44% of adults have difficulty meeting food and/or energy costs . Groceries which used to make me gasp they were so cheap, are now out of control – although vegetables such as turnip, carrots and onions can – at times – be on sale for as little as 30c/kg. Yes, you did just read that correctly. Property prices have sky rocketed. Energy costs are the highest in Europe. Petrol is always double what it is in Australia, and that’s when there’s not a war raging in the Middle East. 

Cuts of meat are so expensive even the thinnest steak is security tagged. At the checkout the other day the lady asked if I’d like a receipt. I declined her offer. “Here, take it,” she insisted, “you’ve got a steak in your bag. Security might ask for proof of purchase on your way out.” In the Tesco car park a sign warns that Anti-social drivers will be prosecuted and that you risk being issued with a warning if you drive aggressively or cause noise nuisance, eg., REVVING ENGINES, LOUD STEREOS, HANDBRAKE TURNS. If you do not comply, this could result in your vehicle being confiscated or DESTROYED. Seriously, your car may be DESTROYED because you revved your engine? Keep your stereos turned down low people. (If that isn’t a metaphor for our times, I don’t know what is.) 

All this sense of oppression can make for depressing times. But despite it, Glasgow heaves with laughter, art, history, grit, grunge, the much maligned deep fried pizza and excellent chicken tikka masala. It is full of people who call a spade a spade and who in casual conversation blurt out lines that are funnier than most standup comedians – this is the home of Billy Connolly after all. It’s also home to my two dearest pals, Magi Gibson (voted in the top 3 poets in Scotland by readers of The Scotsman newspaper) and standup comedian/novelist, Ian Macpherson (aka, The Godfather of Irish comedy). If you don’t know their work, I urge you to check them both out.

The first time my husband came back here with me he remarked that as soon as my feet hit the tarmac, the dial on my Glaswegian genetic code was turned up full blast. It’s no secret to anyone who knows me that I’m happier here than anywhere else in the world. And I know us expats are always banging on about the places we’ve come from, but despite my 30 years of living in Australia, and all the love I have for it, Glasgow in all its warmth and wildness still lives deep in the marrow of my Glasgow bones.