An open letter to Glasgow City Council and Commonwealth games organisers; My earliest memory of the Red road flats was, shockingly enough, hanging over the edge of the roof of one when I was about 8 or nine. Me and my brothers were wild and if we weren’t running around the playground that was, ‘The Blackie’ (a disused quarry complete with a bing not long stopped smoking and a torch and battery) it was at the Atlas works, a disused factory from the long gone locomotive industry that was once the life of Springburn. The Red Road flats were once an exciting, vibrant microcosm of a city that scraped up into the sky and made you dizzy if you looked up standing next to one. Next, they descended into a ghetto that people were scared to enter unless you were unlucky enough to live there. Another age in the life of the flats and the introduction of the concierge system, with sealed entry, fob keys, CCTV cameras and an intercom in every house. Lastly and probably saddest of all, when it became a dumping ground for every disparate family from Europe and beyond. Now that they are all but empty and a few less, thanks to Dem-master, comes their final humiliation. Turned into a carnival and a cheap publicity stunt made into farce by a council who would stoop at nothing to make a cheap buck (Georgie square a prime example) Through all my life the flats have stood on my doorstep, like some friendly monoliths that guided me home to Barmulloch. I for one was glad when they eventually started to become a part of Glasgow’s history. But this final injustice to every person that lived there, to turn it into a circus is beyond any shred of decency. For every family, single person, asylum seeker, immigrant, jumper (and there were many) have some decency, Glasgow and let the locals say goodbye to their history without having the world, looking on, laughing, staring, pitying and mostly, scratching their heads wondering what the fuck blowing up buildings has to do with some athletic games. Regards Boab Millar Barmulloch resident who has lived under the shadow of the Red road flats for nearly fifty years.

An open letter to Glasgow City Council and Commonwealth games organisers;

My earliest memory of the Red road flats was, shockingly enough, hanging over the edge of the roof of one when I was about 8 or nine. Me and my brothers were wild and if we weren’t running around the playground that was, ‘The Blackie’ (a disused quarry complete with a bing not long stopped smoking and a torch and battery) it was at the Atlas works, a disused factory from the long gone locomotive industry that was once the life of Springburn.

The Red Road flats were once an exciting, vibrant microcosm of a city that scraped up into the sky and made you dizzy if you looked up standing next to one.

Next, they descended into a ghetto that people were scared to enter unless you were unlucky enough to live there.

Another age in the life of the flats and the introduction of the concierge system, with sealed entry, fob keys, CCTV cameras and an intercom in every house.

Lastly and probably saddest of all, when it became a dumping ground for every disparate family from Europe and beyond.

Now that they are all but empty and a few less, thanks to Dem-master, comes their final humiliation. Turned into a carnival and a cheap publicity stunt made into farce by a council who would stoop at nothing to make a cheap buck (Georgie square a prime example)

Through all my life the flats have stood on my doorstep, like some friendly monoliths that guided me home to Barmulloch.

I for one was glad when they eventually started to become a part of Glasgow’s history. But this final injustice to every person that lived there, to turn it into a circus is beyond any shred of decency.

For every family, single person, asylum seeker, immigrant, jumper (and there were many) have some decency, Glasgow and let the locals say goodbye to their history without having the world, looking on, laughing, staring, pitying and mostly, scratching their heads wondering what the fuck blowing up buildings has to do with some athletic games.

Regards

Boab Millar

Barmulloch resident who has lived under the shadow of the Red road flats for nearly fifty years.