I pass this way on one of my favorite regular walks. Once a fortnight, I hand the kids over to The Panther and walk away. Fast.
As I march across the city, my head fills with plot twists, story ideas and the general thrilling possibilities that come from making things up.
On a sharp frosty night, Glasgow glitters rather prettily, but I hardly notice. Crossing the dense clump of the city centre, I am struck by how the tall, dark buildings are slashed right through in a network of narrow slightly sinister alleys. There are two sides to everything.
Every other Wednesday I go to the writers' group I'm a member of. I haven't been going long and, if I'm honest, I still feel out of my depth among the proper writers. However, for a little while, I can let the writing of stories take on the importance it deserves.
Taken with my phone camera and fiddled with because it was out of focus.
