Leaving Shawfield
blogThe company I work for recently announced that we would be moving to new premises. It had been expected, the rumours had been flying around for months, but I still got a shiver of anticipation at the thought of leaving Shawfield.
Two years in Shawfield — a grimey, ill-kempt place near the East End of Glasgow — is long enough. And yet, as Samuel Johnson said in his final Idler essay “There are few things not purely evil, of which we can say, without some emotion of uneasiness, this is the last.”
Although we aren’t leaving until April, my daily commute is tinged with quiet melancholy: no longer will I be able to walk through Glasgow Green, no longer will I see the glum cyclist who never acknowledges my friendly nods; the Strathclyde distillery, the Templeton carpet factory, the dog track — all of these sights, that I have take for granted, will no longer be part of my routine.
According to Google Maps, the walk from my flat to the current office takes 39 minutes, whereas it takes 38 minutes to walk to the new offices. That is a victory of sorts: an extra minute in bed could be the difference between consummating an act of erotic passion in my dream and feeling dissatisfied for the rest of the day.
Anyhow, I thought it might be an opportune moment to document my daily walk/cycle:
