#Glasgow central station

[stillunusual]

Glasgow Central Station

[unrealityliminal]

dec 2012

[noconcessions]

[vox-anglosphere]

Glasgow's Central Station is your gateway to the Highlands & Islands

[mightywellfan]

Clock at Glasgow Central station

[guanyu-in-glasgow]

All Glaswegians know that if you are waiting to meet someone at Central Station you'll be meeting them under the clock, and F1 legend Zhou Guanyu was spotted doing just that!

[llljones]

central station, glasgow.

leica m6 + zeiss biogon 35mm + fuji superia 100 (expired)

[wellenreiterbrett]

[blackbird5154]

Some possible sources of inspiration for Meliora design

It is known that when creating Meliora, Tobias Forge was inspired by the movie "Metropolis" and the art deco style of the 1920-30s. Here I want to share my findings of some borrowed elements in the third era.

The Palace of the Soviets was a project to construct a political convention center in Moscow on the site of the demolished Cathedral of Christ the Saviour. The project was never realized. Zbigniew Bielak wrote in his blog: "Check out the rough concept sketches leading up to this apotheosis of Soviet esprit". Meliora is probably referring to the USSR as a failed utopia.

The building beneath the lustful megalomaniac resembles Boston Avenue United Methodist Church (1929).

This element is taken from the old RKO building (usually known as the General Electric Building) (1929-31). The theme of electricity is given a lot of attention in Meliora.

The lanterns in the hands are made in the style of the Helsinki Central Railway Station (1907) lamps. Papa Emeritus is compared to Lucifer the Light-bringer, and at the same time he is the bearer of the idea of enlightenment.

Another unrealized building, a concept by visionary artist Hugh Ferriss, can be seen in the City's urban landscape from the music video. Hugh Ferriss was an American architect and illustrator who created many images of futuristic New York in the 1920s, he's also the author of the book "The Metropolis of Tomorrow".

This building is the actual Odeon Cinema in Glasgow. It was built in 1934 and was originally owned by the American Paramount movie studio. A prime example of mid-1930s architectural modernism.

The cover of "From the Pinnacle to the Pit" is painted from Nick Gaetano's "Romantic Manifesto." It is a 2006 painting inspired by Ayn Rand's book "Atlas Shrugged".

[scotianostra]

Loch Lomond.

Another of my requests fulfilled

@motsimages asked for Loch Ness, or any Loch.

Loch Ness is a bit too far to do on a day trip using public transport, but here I am at Loch Lomond, arguably one of the most accessible of our fresh water lochs.

If you want to visit either catch a direct train at Queen Street Station Glasgow to Balloch, or from Central Station and change at Patrick. More pics to come, as always......🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿

[thedreadvampy]

ScotRail are like do you want to get between the two biggest cities in this nation? Well you have three options. There's the fast train which will get you there in great time, the slow train which will let you reach all the towns in the central belt and still get you to your destination at the same speed as driving straight there, and then we also have the Dumb Idiot Shitforbrains train we put there as a joke where sometimes you will look out of the window and see someone overtake you on a pushbike. Choose wisely.

and somehow because I am extremely stupid I will literally always choose the Dumb Idiot Shitforbrains joke train and then get very mad.

got told yesterday to go to a conference in Glasgow today

fine

accidentally got the slow train this morning and was half an hour late

ugh

ok day

fine

ACCIDENTALLY GOT THE SLOW TRAIN BACK AS WELL I HAVE BEEN ON THIS FUCKING TRAIN FOR AN HOUR AND A HALF AND I'M AT LIKE LIVINGSTONE.

and it's like 24° and my friend asked me if I want to go to the beach and i DESPERATELY want to go to the beach. but no I live on this fucking train now and the soonest I could get to the beach is like 8pm which is when SUNSET IS so it will be TOO LATE and they're busy all the rest of this week and I am STILL ON THIS FUCKING TRAIN I'm going to CRY ALL I HAVE WANTED SINCE IT GOT WARM IS TO GO IN THE SEA but NO someone had to run a conference from 9-5 which by the way is INHUMANE everyone KNOWS conferences are meant to be done by 4:30

fuck this I wanna be in the sea 😭

[abbiistabbii]

I just automated something using Python for the first time and my brain released the

HAPPY CHEMICALS

in a way I have not felt in a long, looooooooooooooong time to the point I wanted to tell everyone what I did despite it being really fucking nerdy.

Basically every mainline railway station on Great Britain has a three letter code like airports, KGX for King's Cross, EDB for Edinburgh, GLC for Glasgow Central. You get the idea. Anyway I have this thing called Espanso where you can type a prompt and it will replace it with something you set it to. For example, I can type :date and it will write the current date (20/07/2023). You can set up your own prompts by learning the very simple mark up language and setting your own prompts.

Anyway I looked at Espanso and thought "I wonder if I could set it up so I could type a station code as an Espanso prompt and get the station code. So after thinking about how I could write it by hand and realising there were 2575 stations in Great Britain, I knew I would have to automate it.

My knowlegde of Python is basic, but after watching part of a video course, learning how to install Python Packages, learning how to use Openpyxl and reading so many blogposts I learnt how to use Python to take info from a spreadsheet, insert it into Espanso's markup langauge, and put that in a fucking text file and after some trial and error and test runs, I did it and my mind just exploded with the happy chemicals.

My monkey brain was like "HEE HOO PUZZLE SOLVED" and I got so much happy brain sauce. And after telling my Mum, Dad, Friends and an elderly neighbour what I did, something set in. Is this...how they get you? Is this how people get into coding for fun or even a career? Has coding bitten me? Will I ever be able to escape this addiction?

[sweetdreamsjeff]

Jeff Buckley in the U.K.

Jim Irvin, 'From Hallelujah to the Last Goodbye' (Post Hill), May 2018

Excerpted from Jeff Buckley: From Hallelujah to the Last Goodbye by Jeff's former manager Dave Lory and former MOJO man Jim Irvin (Post Hill Press).

JEFF BUCKLEY loved British music; the nervous energy in British punk, the wired consciousness of the Clash, the way Siouxsie and the Banshees went from gun-metal moodiness to skies full of fireworks.

He adored the Cocteau Twins, of course, especially Liz Fraser's "impossible voice". He loved how the Smiths called to outsiders and nerds. He loved the textures of Johnny Marr's supple guitar and the mordant presence of Steve Jones's guitar in the Sex Pistols.

Jeff, whose own nervous energy was considerable, became even more wired whenever we went to the UK; he was stimulated by its variety. He also appreciated its compactness – the lack of eight-hour drives between cities was refreshing.

Sony had passed on Live at Sin-é in Europe. We were understandably disappointed, but there was a solution close at hand: Steve Abbott, known to everyone as Abbo, who ran the eccentric indie record label Big Cat and had picked up on many of the promising un-signed bands playing in New York: Pavement, Mercury Rev, Luscious Jackson. He had approached Jeff after Gods & Monsters and Sin-é shows and asked him if he'd like to record with Big Cat, but then Sony stepped in. Jeff felt that he owed Abbo a record, so when Columbia UK passed on Live at Sin-é and Michele Anthony instigated a funding deal with Big Cat, it seemed the perfect opportunity for them to become involved. Abbo jumped at the chance.

Big Cat's small team – Abbo, co-owner Linda Obadiah, Frank Neidlich in marketing, and Jacqui Rice in press – did such a good job that the week it was released in Europe, Live at Sin-é sold over four thousand copies, which was amazing for a complete unknown.

After a Sony conference, where it was clear that a lot of the affiliates were bemused by him, Jeff had a warm-up show at Whelan's in Dublin. By the time he came on, the crowd, several drinks into its evening, had become a little boisterous. Jeff said hello softly, as usual, but no one was really paying attention. Jeff just stood there, waiting. People started to quieten down and watch to see what he would do. There was a pint of his favourite beer, Guinness, sitting on the stool next to him. Jeff lifted the glass to his lips and downed it in one hit. Everyone on the room cheered, and he began the Irish show with the crowd completely on his side.

The audience was more blasé the next night at his London debut at The Borderline, a Western-themed venue under a dubious Mexican diner in Soho, right in the heart of London, a group of local reps for hip American indie labels like Sub Pop and Merge yacking away rather disrespectfully at the bar. In the age of grunge, a lone guy with a guitar softly singing Edith Piaf covers was baffling for some.

"It was an epiphany for me," says Sara Silver, Sony's European head of marketing. "There are some shows where it just feels like you're a voyeur, looking into someone's soul. This was one of those. He was charismatic, but also haunting, and I think because of my particular situation at the time, still suffering from the [loss of my husband], he resonated hugely. This haunting sound was a powerful force, and it was my job to work out how we took it to the world."

A gig the next night in Glasgow meant an early-morning flight back to Heathrow the following morning to catch a session with GLR, London's local BBC station, a slot designed to alert people to the next couple of gigs at the Garage in Islington and at Bunjies, a cute little basement folk club in Central London that dated back to the early 1960s and made Sin-é seem generously proportioned.

Abbo was accompanying Jeff on this run.

"We'd meet regularly at a bar called Tom & Jerry's in New York, hang out and drink Guinness together," Abbo says, "I suppose I became a friend of his, and he didn't seem to have many real friends. I'd only discovered I liked the blues since living in New York, so it was great hanging with him, because he was a huge blues and jazz fan and if there was a guitar around he had to pick it up and show off. He knew every Robert Johnson song, every Muddy Waters tune, Bessie Smith; he introduced me to the physicality of the blues, watching it at close quarters. Everybody talks about his voice, but he was a brilliant guitarist. The guitar was an extension of his body.

"Tim Buckley hadn't really entered my line of vision growing up listening to black music. Singer-songwriters with fluffy hairstyles were not currency on my council estate in Luton! We were in Tom & Jerry's and someone said to Jeff, 'I've been listening to your dad,' and I said, 'Who's your dad?' and he said, 'Tim Buckley.' I knew the name from record shopping; I'd seen the sleeves in the racks, but that's it. But when he came over to Britain there were loads of Tim Buckley fans. And it was a real problem early on, because he really didn't like talking about him."

The traffic from the airport to the GLR studios just off Baker Street was awful. A road accident had slowed everything to a standstill. Jeff's slot on the mid-morning show was fast approaching. "Of course, this was before mobile phones, so I had no way of communicating with the radio station that we were stuck in traffic," says Abbo. "For the last few days on this tour, everyone who'd interviewed Jeff had been asking about his dad. How did Tim write 'Song To The Siren'? Was there stuff in his lyrics that he might have related to? Things Jeff couldn't answer.

"We were listening to GLR while we waited in traffic and the presenter kept saying, 'We're supposed to have this artist, Tim Buckley's son, turning up, but he's late....Will he or won't he turn up?' This went on and on. She must have said 'Tim Buckley's son' about four times and didn't mention Jeff once. Suddenly, he just kicked my car radio in with his big DMs [Doc Martens], just smashed the fascia and then sat back sulking all the way there. I could get another radio, of course, but I was mostly worried he wasn't going to do the performance. 

"We finally arrived about forty minutes late and they were all so rude to us, and yet they knew what the problem was, as they were broadcasting traffic updates and warnings of delays themselves. If I were him, I'd have walked out. The female presenter was a typical local radio DJ, a bit gushy and knew nothing about him and his music. I had a word with the station manager to ask her to stop mentioning Tim Buckley, and he handed her a note to that effect. Jeff just sat there silently and she said, 'What are you going to play?' and Jeff said, 'A song.' I'm thinking, 'Oh god, here we go.' And he started to play "Grace." He did this long guitar introduction, went on for about a minute, like he needed to calm himself down before he got to the actual start of the song, and then he launched into the most electrifying performance. The best I ever heard him do it.

"There were about six phones in the control room, and they all started lighting up. 'Who is this? Who is this? It's amazing!' And all the time, Jeff's getting more and more into it. The presenter went from being this standoffish woman to...I swear she would have thrown herself on him given half a chance, the second he finished singing. You could see she was totally enthralled."

Presenter: "You looked quite exhausted at the end of the song."

Jeff: "I was getting a lot of anger out. Something happened on the way here..."

"The phones didn't stop throughout the next song. The station manager said that in all his twelve years at the station, he'd never seen a reaction like it."

Abbo thinks this performance sparked Jeff's breakthrough. There were certainly plenty of people in line outside the Garage in North London that night. Inside, the first stars were taking note. Chrissie Hynde and Jon McEnroe were in the audience. Chrissie had been a big fan and a friend of Tim's, had actually interviewed him while she was briefly a music journalist with the NME, and she was obviously curious to see how his offspring compared. They struck up a conversation after the show and she clearly said the right thing, because he went off with her to jam with the Pretenders in a nearby rehearsal room. I wasn't carrying anything heavy because of a recent lung collapse, and I didn't want Jeff to pull any important muscles, so I asked McEnroe if he wouldn't mind. He happily hauled Jeff's amp downstairs to the car. The Pretenders' jam with special guests Buckley and Mac went on all night.

Bunjies, as I've said, was tiny, a basement folk club and coffee bar on West Street in Soho, along from the Ivy, with gingham tablecloths and melted candles in wine bottles on the tables and a performance area tucked into a couple of arches in what must have been a wine cellar at one point. It looked unchanged since it had begun in the early 1960s, and had seen a couple of folk booms come and go. It was more of a cafe with an open-mic policy by this point, which felt like a good place for Jeff. There wasn't really any need for amplification, so when we arrived for a sound check there was very little to do but see where Jeff was going to stand in the cramped space and gauge how his voice reflected off the nicotine-stained ceilings. While Jeff did that, I went outside for some fresh air and was stunned to see a line of people already waiting to get into the show.

I took a look at the guest list and realised we'd be lucky to fit twenty of this assembling crowd in the tiny space. Every time I looked up, the line was getting further down West Street. I went back into the venue and found Jeff talking to Emma Banks, the agent. He was saying how great the venue was and that he'd like to do something like hand out flowers to everyone before he went on.

"Jesus, you won't believe what's happening out there," I said to them. "The line goes about four blocks. There's no way these people are going to get in. Is there any way we can do two sets?" Jeff was happy to. Emma spoke to the club owner and was told they had some regular club night happening later on. She came back and said, "They can't do it but I've had an idea!" She disappeared up the steps onto the street, and I spoke to Jeff.

"What flowers would you like?"

"White roses," he said.

"I'll get them," I said, and went back up to the street, where the line had grown even longer.

I walked around looking for a florist and bumped into Emma. "I've booked Andy's Forge," she said. "It's a little place just around the corner in Denmark Street. He can go on at 10:30."

I bought as many white roses as I could find. Jeff handed them to people waiting outside and those lucky enough to get into the club, as he squeezed himself into the corner that passed for a stage. He sang upward, listening to his voice reflect off the curved ceiling into this hot, crowded, and attentive space. There must have been a hundred people stuffed in there.

When the show was over, Jeff walked up the steps to the huddle of patient people that Emma had gathered, plus anyone from the first show who wanted to tag along, and led this crowd like the Pied Piper toward Andy's Forge. Abbo was alongside me. "Have you ever seen anything like this before?" I said.

"Never!" he said. And we laughed liked idiots at the wonderful absurdity of hanging out with Jeff.

© Jim Irvin, 2018

[fully-functioning-pigeon]

Glasgow Central Station in Scotland advertisement for Percy Jackson 💙

[mightywellfan]

Glasgow Central Station

Glasgow Central station is one of two large terminuses in Glasgow.  It was built in 1879 on a level above the surrounding streets.  It was  tastefully restored, retaining many of the architectural features, in the late 1900s.

This view looks across the platforms through the large expanses of glass towards some of the nearby buildings in the centre of Glasgow.

[thesudrianchronicles]

NWC 7: Finally! An Atlantic!

Written By NorthBritishAtlantic

1929

An engine coasted down the Cumbrian Coast Line along the West Coast of England. He seemed to move majestically, his motion hardly making any sound. Like a phantom in the mid morning sun.

As he passed through smaller stations with names such as “Parton”, “St Bees” & “Seascale”, he noticed people on the platform & even some engines looking on at him in awe & surprise.

For you see. This engine was very far from home. For he was a North British Atlantic.

And he had said goodbye to Scotland, for a new life on a small Island, which many people said was in the middle of Nowhere.

Soon, he arrived at a large looking station. Its overall roof covering its platforms. He saw a sign which read “BARROW CENTRAL”, in big bold letters. He pulled up to the platform & his crew got out of his cab.

“We’ll be back in a few minutes Sam.” His driver said.

“Don’t wander off now!” His fireman added, before the driver slapped his arm. Which made Sam chuckle.

The two humans left their Atlantic with his thoughts. He looked around his surroundings. It was a quiet Sunday morning, and there weren't any trains due for an hour or two. So he had the station all to himself.

Or so he thought.

“HEY!” A voice called from behind, causing the Atlantic to jump. “What you doing in my platform?”, “Sitting there like Lord Mutt.” “I’ve got a station to run ya know?!”

Sam looked to his right. Sitting on the track next to him, was a tank engine. Her black paint was bright but dirty. And the letters “LMS'' were in big bold yellow lettering on her sidetanks.

“Well?” She said, eyeing up the larger engine. “Do you say anything?”, “Or do you just sit around & look like an idiot?”

“That’s enough Poppet.” An older voice called. “Leave Him be, even if he is sitting on the mainline taking up space.”

Sam looked over to his left. He saw an older looking engine sitting inside a glass box next to the platform. He had 4 small wheels, a tall thin funnel, and most notably, he had a large round copper firebox.

“The name’s Sam.” The Atlantic spoke, “And you two are?”

“I’m Coppernob”, the old engine said, “And the tank engine next to you is Poppet.”

“What’s an LNER engine doing all the way down here?” asked Poppet, raising an eyebrow at Sam.

“Heading to Sodor”, Sam replied, “NWR needs an engine for local passenger work. So I’m going there to stay.”

“Why you staying?”, Asked Poppet curiously. “Wouldn’t your frien-”

“If I stay I'll end up scrapped.” replied Sam bluntly, cutting Poppet off mind sentence. “My class is on the way out, it's only a matter of time before I’m withdrawn.”

“Don’t worry about it mate.” Poppet said, understandingly. “I’m on borrowed time myself.” “Most of the older Furness engines are being withdrawn as of late.”

“But you at least still have work.” Said Coppernob, “A hard working engine is a useful one.”

Sam sighed. Thank you Coppernob, he smiled slightly.

Poppet chuckled. "Just call him Nobby!" "Everyone else does!"

Coppernob rolled his eyes. Poppet just laughed, and Sam smirked.

“Alright then! Nobby it is!” Sam chuckled.

“So Sam.” Coppernob asked, making the other two stop chuckling. His facial expression was blank. “Have you travelled far?”

“Aye, a wee bit.” Sam said, his gaze returning to the older engine. “Perth, you heard of it?”

“Perth?” Poppet said, raising an eyebrow. “Isn’t that a part of Glasgow?”

The look that Sam threw at Poppet made her shut up instantly & made Coppernob burst out laughing.

The three engines would continue to talk for about 15 more minutes. Nobby & Poppet were telling Sam about one of the old FR’s busiest & most interesting tourist days back in the spring of 1919.

Just as Coppernob was telling Sam about his rather, as he put it, “interesting” experience with a young fireman. Sam’s crew arrived back & came up to see him.”

“Awwww Sam!” His Driver chuckled, putting her jacket back on. “Looks like you made some friends already!”

“Yeah, good on you lad.” His fireman added, trying to hide the obvious lipstick marks on his neck.

“Well come on then!” His driver said, climbing into his cab. “Sodor awaits us!”

“Well goodbye you two.” Said Sam, “I’ll try & visit as much as i can.” “If this all works out that is!” He added chuckling.

“Bye Sam!” “See you around!” Poppet called as Sam drove off.

Sam blew his whistle loudly in goodbye. It echoed around the yard, and startled some of the engines in the shed! He picked up some speed, as he chuffed over the bridge to await his new life.

On the isle of Nowhere.

30 Minutes later

“FINALLY!” a stout gentleman nearly yelled from the platform. “FINALLY I GOT AN ATLANTIC!”

Special thanks to @mean-scarlet-deceiver for letting me use Nobby & Poppet for this story.