EVEN now, recalling those moments it sends a tingle down the spine. It’s going on 25 years since Nelson Mandela visited Glasgow, but his presence still lingers.

From the moment the great man set foot in the city, he held Glaswegians spellbound.

Few who met or saw Mandela over the course of those few wet and windy days in October 1993 were immune to his charm  and charisma. 

In a scene that was to be repeated across the city, he first arrived at the Hilton Hotel from the airport, bringing the place to a virtual standstill. 

Waiters and bar staff stopped serving, while guests rose from their tables in dining rooms to come to the foyer and give him a standing ovation as a bagpiper played him into the building.

The following day it continued, as a carnival atmosphere gripped George Square, where tens of thousand gathered to see Mandela despite a deluge of rain that was torrential, even by Scottish standards.

“Whilst we were physically denied our freedom in the country of our birth, a city, 6,000 miles away and as renowned as Glasgow, refused to accept the legitimacy of the apartheid system and declared us to be free,” Mr Mandela reminded those who listened, enraptured, to his speech. 

“You, the people of Glasgow, pledged that you would not relax until I was free to receive this honour in person. 
“I am deeply grateful to you and the  anti-apartheid movement in Scotland for all your efforts to this end,” he intoned.

Moments later, to the delight of the crowd, Mr Mandela was shimmying to a song by the South African singer Mara Louw, who had joined him on stage in George Square. 

Perhaps this was the man’s greatest gift:  a human touch that could make kings and commoners alike feel uplifted in his presence.

For years leading up to that special moment, I had been active in the anti-apartheid movement, working as a freelance journalist and photographer covering many of its demonstrations, rallies, and events 
that were tirelessly pulled together by devoted campaigners.

Few of those activists were more committed than Brian Filling, whom I first met in the late 1970s in Glasgow’s Star  Folk Club, that came together in the old Communist Party premises in Calton Place on the banks of the River Clyde. 

The “Star” as it was commonly known, was a regular watering hole and music venue frequented by trades unionists and left-wing activists.

Last night in Glasgow’s City Chambers  I was fortunate enough to again meet some  of those surviving friends and comrades as the city held a civic reception to mark  Nelson Mandela International Day. 

There, too, was Brian Filling, once the nemesis of the apartheid regime’s consular section in Glasgow but today Honorary Consul for South Africa, a role awarded for his tireless work during those bitter years when racism ruled in the country. 

Nelson Mandela International Day is now an annual celebration, but this year was especially poignant, given that it’s the anti-apartheid leader and former president’s centennial birthday.

For Glasgow that celebration continues into next month when, on August 24,  a centenary fundraising dinner will be held that will help generate cash to commission a new sculpture of Mr Mandela that will stand in the Glasgow square that once housed the South African regime’s consulate but was renamed Nelson Mandela Place in  his honour.

Listening to last night’s speeches and thinking again of Mr Mandela’s courage, commitment, charm and above all political integrity, I was struck by how those qualities stand in such marked contrast to so many of today’s political leaders. 

Last week I was reminded again of such a contrast when George Square, basking in sunshine, was packed with people there to denounce US President Donald Trump’s  visit. 

What a far cry from that wet but joyous day in 1993 when Glaswegians also came on to the streets for a collective political cause. 

While back then Mr Mandela was inspirational, last week it was anger and frustration that were the prevailing mood towards Mr Trump, a President the antithesis of his South African counterpart.

Not for a moment am I suggesting that  Mr Mandela as a political leader was perfect. 

He himself, unlike Mr Trump, would have been the first to admit that. 
But oh how he towers above the self-serving opportunism and narcissism of those like Mr Trump who inhabit today’s political world. 

For the likes of Mr Trump, Vladimir Putin, Boris Johnson, Nigel Farage and others of their political ilk, the very word integrity is worthy only of derision and utterly alien to their mindset. Where Mr Mandela sought unity, solidarity and reconciliation, so many of today’s “leaders” remain simply hell-bent on sowing discord, division  and hatred. 

They epitomise the “them and us” approach to politics, eschewing the common good for their own mercenary ends. 

Where Mr Mandela was masterful in dealing with friends and foes, the Trumps of this world succeed only in making enemies out of allies. 

All the more reason then in today’s toxic global political climate, to perhaps pause for a moment and ask ourselves the question: What would Mandela do?

Were he around today I have little doubt that even Donald Trump would have fallen under his spell, for Mr Mandela could be just as charming to those he didn’t trust or like.

What so many of us fortunate enough to meet Mr Mandela back in 1993, encountered was a person who in any company had the most relaxed and natural lightness of touch, a quality most politicians can only dream of. 

Mr Mandela had an innate understanding of a world beyond politics, a world inhabited by ordinary people.

His connection with Glasgow confirmed the city’s great tradition of political internationalism.
 Perhaps though Scotland’s greatest reward for allying itself with Mr Mandela’s battle against apartheid is the collective sense of national decency such a positive role engendered. 

In opposing apartheid, Scotland revealed itself as a nation capable of displaying the qualities needed in laying claim to be a tolerant, caring and multicultural society. 

As we celebrate the centennial birthday of Nelson Mandela in Glasgow and across Scotland, we can be proud that we stood alongside him when it mattered. 

We can hope, too, that others will take heed of his example.