A Visit to Glasgow Necropolis

View across graves at Glasgow Necropolis

Glasgow Necropolis

The Glasgow Necropolis on a cold, bright morn; grand and Gothic and unsurprisingly, Victorian. Ever a society in love with death, elevating it into an art form fit for the ancients.

It’s easy to see why writers are fascinated by cities of the dead. Cemeteries tell a thousand tales. Inspiration and intrigue around every corner.

Graves in Glasgow Necropolis

Sitting on a hill in the heart of the city, the Necropolis wakes. It looks over the old and new of Glasgow, a stark mix of grey-red stone and dark shadows.

shadows and sunlight through gravestones

The living walk amoung the dead, tourists, visitors and others poetically extolling virtues of life over breakfast beers

Mausoleum in Glasgow Necropolis

The grandest mausoleums sit on the prime spot at the very top of the hill. They show off wealth from the then-new industrial classes. Everlasting memorials to countless engineers and entrepreneurs, doctors, priests and generals.

More graves in Glasgow Necropolis

You have no choice but to wander. No-one’s in a hurry. Walk and wind between the long forgotten and remember their tales.

Grave at Glasgow Necropolis

On the other side of the hill a great screeching disturbs the dawn. An industrial site behind this resting place belches clouds of smoke and noise enough to wake the dead.

Smoke and atomsphere in Glasgow Necropolis

Related reads

Exploring Highgate Cemetery

Agatha Christie’s Grave, Cholsey, UK

William Shakespeare’s grave


Woman looking out to sea


I felt a moment

of sadness

flicked in from nothing

a moment given

for the mourning

of those who have no


I wondered

whose loss I had been assigned

who they had been

before the trap closed

whether they were always


born and died with the

light touch

flying with dragging feet

Or were violently electric

bursting and

sputtering to the end

like a cardboard firework

I saluted

took the dip

waited it out

for the good of


Who told you I was leaving?

Sad womanYou know I wouldn’t go anywhere without
saying goodbye.
And I’m not.
I’m here aren’t I?

There’s no need to cry.
I know you got scared,
I’m sorry but leaving you is
the last thing on my mind.

I know I’ve been distant lately,
work is just crazy.
They’ve got me running all over the place.
Once this is over we’ll spend more
time together
I promise.

Can’t I even get a little response?
You don’t understand.
Lord I’m tired.
Look it’s late,
I can’t even remember half the journey home,
should probably get some sleep.
Time for bed eh?

What’s wrong? Why can’t you tell me?
Please just stop crying and talk to me!
I’m here…

I promise.

I won’t leave without saying goodbye.

Aged Thirteen and Late in Bed

(Written at 13, re-written at 20 and found in the archives at 30-and-a-bit)

Aged thirteen and late in bed,
I realised that one day I’d be dead.
My stomach gave a sudden jolt,
and in me found a strange revolt,
against the idea of ever ending,
and I wondered about bending,
time around me so I may stay,
ever alive and ever this way.

I wondered what colour death would be,
black and nothing or bright and free?
For the nothing brigade, I imagine a place,
within sleep, an endless space.
Before the dreams come, yet not remembered,
a remorseless void, the world surrendered.

For the bright old crowd will it be,
mists and light and jollity?
Will corporal bodies be permitted,
with halos and wings newly fitted?
Those who have visited have said,
Its like being inside love instead.

The thought of nothing leaves me scared,
although I’m also un-prepared,
for living through eternity,
in whatever form it may be.
A final peace of no more days,
or an endless, contented haze?
This is a choice I just can’t make,
to spout a platitude would be fake.

But though it left me feeling cold,
I have decided to be bold.
Even now when I am twenty,
I will admit that there’s still plenty,
of time to consider and time to live,
and time to come up with an alternative,
to going forever or standing still,
to coming to terms before I write my will.

Thoughts on Robin Williams

Many of you are doubtless as shocked and saddened to hear of Robin Williams passing as I am. I have experienced the deaths of many people in the public eye but his has really hit me in the gut. How could anyone so full of life be dead? And why? They’re questions that will never to be answered.  I’m a child of the nineties so Robin will always be the Genie from Aladdin to me. He didn’t just voice that role he lived it.  In fact he lived every role he played. He was magic.