THE variety hall singers of Glasgow's past would warble in a lachrymose way about going doon the Clyde, but never about going across it.
If the north-south divide is used in British politics to define the financial fault-line that severs the country, in Glasgow the north-south divide is the fact that many Glaswegians rarely cross the River Clyde.
The occasional West End luvvie may scoot over to the Citizens Theatre of an evening, and suburban businessmen may take the Subway from Byres Road to Ibrox for a trough of corporate hospitality at Rangers, but that's about it. The south side can often be dismissed as a vast area of housing where nothing very much happens. If the south side had a motto it would be quid enim quietam vitam – anything for a quiet life.
There are pockets of the well-heeled, of course. I remember a woman with a deep bloody gash on her hand standing amidst the usual Friday night throng in the Victoria Infirmary's accident and emergency unit being asked by the busy doctor how she came by her wound. "Shucking oysters," she told him.
"That's a first around here," he replied.
But to show there is life on the south side, the local community held its own Southside Festival at Queen's Park Recreation Ground at the weekend. No sooner had the procession of pipe bands, gaily dressed children and cheery women drummers made their way to the park on Saturday when the heavens opened, dropping a hefty tonnage of rain, sending visitors scurrying into the marquees while braver souls stood outside supporting the acts on the main stage.
"Why does God hate the south side?" muttered one rain-soaked attendee, although the idea of an omniscient deity having a downer on a specific part of Glasgow seems unlikely. Southsiders may have their vices, but it's hardly akin to Gomorrah or even Sodom. No, it's just the natural duality that in return for whisky, oil and scenery, Scotland must endure an embarrassing national football team and shocking weather.
And so the Southside Festival created scenes repeated everywhere in Scotland over the years – sullen children being dragged over muddy fields past displays of ancient fire engines, rain smacking off canvas marquees and the distinctive smell of hamburgers wafting from a caravan parked near the bouncy castle and a display of careers in the Army.
Organising an outdoor event in Scotland involves a blend of fear, optimism and fatalism. But you can only have praise for those who do.
Apart from the Southside Festival, which had music at its heart, there is also a fortnight-long Southside Fringe which promotes music, theatre and workshops. The play Steaming, set in a dilapidated Turkish baths, was performed in the, well, dilapidated Govanhill Baths, where a local committee is still working to have the baths reopened.
If there is a common thread running through these events is the feeling that the south side does not get the facilities or the money spent on it that other areas, such as the West End and the Merchant City, seem easily to attract. But local people are deciding to do something about it by running their own events. As Crawford Smith at the Southside Fringe says: "Why do we do it? To prove there is a lot going on artistically on the south side, and to save me having to cycle home from events in the West End in the rain." As a native Southsider he gets fed up with those elsewhere in the city who say they have never been over to the south side. The arts, he says, can provide economic activity in areas where traditional shopping is disappearing leaving empty units, and can also unite seemingly divided communities.
"We can all sing or paint in the same language," says Smith, which touches on one of the more sensitive issues on the south side. Many immigrants to Glasgow are settling there, putting pressure on services. One area alone, Govanhill, is said to have native speakers of 40 different languages vying for educational and medical facilities.
It's not a new phenomenon, of course. First came Jewish families escaping the Russian pogroms who settled there before deciding that Whitecraigs and Newton Mearns were a tad more attractive. Then also came Irish settlers escaping famine and looking for work. More recently came those from the Indian subcontinent and now folk from Eastern Europe.
As always there is suspicion of newcomers, with colourful but often misleading tales told of criminality coming in their wake. Clambering over an old fire engine at the Southside Festival is indeed one simple way that different groups can meet and realise there's not much difference between them after all.
Sometimes, though, Glasgow City Council is not seen as a great help. David Meikle is a south side councillor, but is also Glasgow's only Tory councillor – Edinburgh has more pandas than Glasgow has Tory councillors. He concedes that the council will be spending money to help improve the rundown Shawlands shopping centre, but says it allowed it to get that way in the first place by being so supportive of the rival Silverburn shopping centre at Pollok which has free parking and is under one roof.
"There are things happening in the south side. New niche businesses. But most of it's being done through the community without help from outside," he says.
So maybe events such as the Southside Festival are important in uniting disparate groups, and aren't such a washout after all.
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