Yesterday, I visited Sighthill Park and it felt like an endless journey while sitting in one spot.

Not because something huge happened.
Not because life suddenly changed.
But because for a few hours, I sat in the middle of nature, people, noise, sunlight, birds, trains, conversations, and human behaviour, and I simply observed life happening around me.

I planned an ice cream date for myself.

Three flavours.
One park.
One chair.
One long evening with nature and my thoughts.

So I headed to Sighthill Park in Glasgow for what I thought would just be a peaceful outdoor personal picnic and alone time. But somehow the day became much more than that.

Arriving at Sighthill Park

The weather was beautiful.

Not too hot.
Not too cold.
The kind of weather that makes Scotland feel softer.

The sun kept disappearing and returning again throughout the evening, changing the entire mood of the park every few minutes. One moment I had my sweater on because the breeze became cool, and the next moment the sunlight returned with warmth pressing gently against my skin until I had to take it off again.

I did not arrive early.
I entered into the evening hours instead.

And honestly, I think evening is one of the best times to experience this park in summer.

People become slower.
The light changes.
The sounds change.
Everything begins to soften.

I walked around Sighthill Park for a while, taking photos before finally finding a comfortable spot to sit and relax.

At some point I let my hair out completely free and just sat there breathing in the day.

The Beauty of Sighthill Park

There is something very calming about Sighthill Park.

The greenery feels almost unreal.

Scottish grass is honestly so green that sometimes it looks painted by hand. Like somebody carefully coloured every inch of it.

The trees moved constantly with the wind, waving their leaves as though they were alive and speaking to each other.

The grass danced.
The birds circled the sky.
The sun stretched itself across the field.

And beside the park, trains kept passing.

That became one of my favourite parts of the evening.

The sound of trains moving beside nature creates such a strange but comforting feeling. Every time one passed, it interrupted the silence for only a few seconds before the park returned to calmness again.

By the third train, I had started looking forward to hearing the next one.

Watching People Exist

One thing parks teach you is that human beings are endlessly interesting.

You sit still long enough and eventually life walks right past you.

Teenagers gathered around the playground laughing loudly, screaming each other’s names, joking, pushing each other around, running, and trying to enjoy the warm weather before night came.

Some people rode bikes through the pathways.

An elderly woman walked slowly in front of me taking one careful step at a time.

A lady walked past listening to music through her headphones, completely inside her own world.

Three teenage girls walked together enjoying the weather, smiling and talking.

A woman dressed fully in black walked behind me while pressing her phone.

A couple passed in front of me — the girl wearing a butter yellow cardigan and grey pants while the boy beside her wore all black and smoked while they quietly discussed something and smiled together. They looked peaceful.

Three older men later sat not too far away from me. They looked like they were in their late 40s or early 50s. They had food with them and honestly it looked like their own version of a picnic.

They sat together quietly.
A kettle sat beside them.
One of them later walked around picking trash from the area.

That moment stayed with me.

Because parks only remain beautiful when people decide to care for them.

My Thoughts While Sitting There

While sitting in that park I found myself thinking deeply.

I stared across the field wondering:

Who first imagined this place?
Who drew the original plan?
Whose dream was this?

Did somebody once sit at a table designing pathways, ponds, benches, playgrounds, and trees hoping one day strangers would come there searching for peace?

And then another thought came into my mind:

How many people die without seeing their dreams come true?

The park made me think about life in a strange way.

Nature slows your thoughts down enough for questions to finally surface.

A Call With My Sister

While I sat there, I was also on call with my sister (sometimes) while she prepared to travel and buy a few items before going home.

And while talking to her, I realised something important again:

I genuinely enjoy my own company.

And I do not think that is a bad thing.

People sometimes act as though enjoying solitude means loneliness, but they are not the same thing.

You can enjoy people and still deeply enjoy yourself too.

Birds Everywhere

The birds at Sighthill Park were extremely active.

I saw seagulls everywhere around the ponds.
Hundreds of black birds covered parts of the park.
Birds flew overhead constantly, making sharp, quirky sounds across the evening sky.

There used to be two swans in the ponds during previous visits, but this time I did not see them.

Honestly, I think the seagulls chased them away.

Swans seem peaceful.
Seagulls seem like professional troublemakers.

And the benches proved the birds had fully claimed ownership of the park.

Many benches were covered in bird droppings.

At one point I even laughed to myself, thinking:

“These birds are probably taking revenge on humans. You people litter nature all year and now suddenly during summer you want to enjoy the park? No way.”

That was my inner thought speaking.

But while watching the birds, I also started thinking spiritually.

How do birds know when to migrate?
How are those instincts built into them?
Who taught them?

Nature always reminds me that creation is far too intentional to simply exist by accident.

The sky above me looked like painted cotton candy.
Blue.
White.
Soft.
Never competing with anything.
Just existing beautifully.

My Childhood Memory Returned

At some point I turned sideways on the chair trying to become more comfortable and started watching the road beside the park.

Then suddenly a childhood memory returned to me.

When my classmates and I walked home from primary school, we used to play a game while walking beside the road.

The first person to point at an approaching car owned the car.

“My car!”
“No, my car!”
“That one is mine!”

And somehow a walk that should have taken 10 minutes turned into almost an hour because we kept waiting for more cars to claim.

Funny how tiny memories stay hidden inside your mind for years waiting for one random moment to return.

Ice Cream and Radio Conversations

Then I paused to enjoy my second ice cream.

When I opened it, it was smashed.

So I flattened it out, crushed some Pringles onto it, and used the wooden stick from the ice cream to eat it anyway.

Honestly?
It tasted good.

Then I turned on my radio.

One discussion on the radio talked about prostate cancer and whether all men should eventually be screened or if testing should focus mainly on men with family genetic history.

And somehow that conversation mixed into the atmosphere of the park too.

That is the strange thing about public spaces.

Everyone arrives carrying their own life, worries, health concerns, relationships, memories, and stress into the same shared environment.

Teenagers, Chaos, and Concern

As evening continued, the atmosphere around the playground became more intense.

Some teenagers played in ways that honestly felt disturbing rather than playful.

I watched boys aggressively grabbing girls by the neck.
One girl looked visibly uncomfortable.
Another teenager seemed heavily drunk despite looking only around 12 or 13 years old.

At one point four teenagers approached me. One boy had blood all over his hand and was extremely intoxicated. Drunk, he asked me for a “fist bump,” but I refused and told him to please leave.

When he tried lingering around me, I told him I was a police officer and would call the police if he did not leave immediately.

A teenage girl of about 13 years quickly dragged him away.

But later I watched from a distance as this young girl struggled to manage him while he staggered around the park unable to stand properly. They later sat down on a bench close to me and she sat on his leg, trying to get him to calm down and he immediately started rubbing her vagina area. I was so disappointed. 

And honestly, I felt deeply sad watching her.

Children are supposed to still be children.

Instead she looked emotionally exhausted trying to carry responsibilities far too heavy for her age.

Throughout the evening I kept asking myself:

When did childhood become so rushed?

I saw another boy and girl caressing and kissing in the park and I was worried for them; they are way too young to have this as their focus. They vaped and all had phones. Some looked intoxicated. I do not think there was any of them who were up to the age of 16 in that gathering.

The Park Began Feeling Different

The longer I sat there, the more the park transformed from peaceful scenery into a mirror reflecting society itself.

Some teenagers were kind.
Some looked completely lost.
Some looked vulnerable.
Some looked aggressive.
Some looked neglected.

I watched another young girl cry while a boy comforted her nearby.

Another teenager appeared injured.

One girl with a broken arm urinated on herself while walking towards me; she was embarrassed and told her friend she was leaving and left immediately.

And honestly, I became increasingly concerned for many of these children.

Their behaviour did not feel normal.
It felt like many of them were carrying burdens far beyond their age.

Image of sunset

Looking back now, the week almost feels like one long film filled with strange encounters, small acts of kindness, uncomfortable moments, and reflections about people.

So here we go.

The Little Girl at the Library

After work most days last week, I found myself at the library trying to finish different things. It became my quiet escape after long days.

One of the nicest parts of those visits was seeing a father walking around with his wee daughter. Due to my frequent visits to the library that week, I kept encountering them, and each time she saw me, she would say hello.

Honestly, that became the highlight of my time there.

There is something so pure about children. No pretending. No hidden intentions. Just a simple hello that somehow brightens your day more than adult conversations sometimes do.

The Man Who Made Me Nervous

One evening at the library, I noticed a man carrying several heavy bags. I looked up for a moment out of concern, then returned to what I was doing.

A while later, he sat not too far from me and started speaking loudly. At first, I assumed he was on the phone, so I ignored it. But after some time, I realized he was actually talking to himself.

Then he suddenly looked directly at me and asked me a question.

I answered politely and said I wasn't very knowledgeable about the topic. At the same time, I was on a call with my sister, and she immediately became concerned.

Things became even stranger when the man moved from his seat and sat directly behind me. My sister told me straight away to move because the situation did not feel safe.

And honestly, my mind immediately imagined the worst possible scenarios.

So I packed my things and moved to another area of the library.

But guess what?

He moved too.

Now at this point, there were barely any people in that section of the library, and I started thinking to myself, “Right, if this man stays here another few minutes, I’m leaving altogether.”

Thankfully, after a short while, he eventually left.

My sister stayed worried the entire time and even told me to ensure he was not following me home afterwards.

Thankfully, I got home safely.

Still, situations like that remind you how alert women constantly have to be in public spaces.

The Forensics Conversation

Now this next library encounter was not frightening exactly, but it was definitely odd.

A young man walked past me one day looking as though he wanted to say something but could not gather the courage. On his way out, he walked back and asked when the library closed.

I checked for him, told him the time, and he left.

The next day, I saw him again.

This time, he walked directly up to me, introduced himself, and asked if I studied at the university nearby. I told him no, that I was simply using the library to finish some work.

He explained that he had completed his master’s degree and was now doing a certification course, although honestly, I could not fully understand what the certification actually was because he struggled to explain it.

He seemed nervous. Like someone whose mind was full of thoughts but who could not quite arrange them properly into words.

I could tell he wanted to talk, so I invited him to sit down.

Then came the intriguing part.

After asking about my profession, he suddenly asked, “Do you know about forensics?”

I said yes.

Then he asked about the type of forensics where artists draw what missing people or criminals might look like years later.

That was when I explained forensic age progression to him.

Now, here is where things became slightly uncomfortable for me.

Earlier in the conversation, he had already shown me a drawing of a house he claimed to have made himself, although it honestly looked AI-generated to me. Then he began asking more questions about forensic drawings despite seeming to know very little about how forensic work actually operates.

At that point, I genuinely could not tell whether he was simply socially awkward and curious or whether something felt off.

And as women, sometimes you learn to trust that feeling when something does not sit right.

Eventually, I politely ended the conversation and left. It reminded me of a real-life story that happened in Glasgow, titled "Should I Marry a Murderer?" 

The Stranger in the Rain

One morning on my way to work, the Scottish rain decided to show absolutely no mercy.

The wind was blowing sideways, my clothes were already getting soaked, and just as I was walking towards the bus stop, my bus drove away.

Honestly, I could have cried.

As I stood there getting battered by the rain, a car suddenly stopped beside me.

A man rolled down the window and said he was heading towards the city center and could drop me off if I did not mind.

Now normally, people will say never get into a stranger’s car, but I looked around at the miserable weather and thought, “Well… maybe humanity still exists after all.”

So I got in.

He was polite. We exchanged greetings, and he asked about my work and where it would be best to drop me off. During the drive, he explained that he owned a boutique for travel items and said I was welcome to visit sometime.

I remember thinking, “Well, that’s one way to advertise your business.”

He also mentioned that his wife and family lived in another city in the UK.

Upon our arrival, he graciously offered me his umbrella, as the rain continued to pour heavily. I thanked him and declined.

He asked for my number.

At the time, I thought perhaps he was simply being friendly.

He started sending WhatsApp videos of his products. Because I am careful with security, I deleted the videos without opening them.

Then came the calls.

And more calls.

And offers.

Free travel items.
Shopping invitations.
Offers to buy me things

At one point, while speaking to my sister about the situation, she sighed and said, “It’s such a pity that his family lives in another city while this is what he chooses to do.”

While part of me appreciated the kindness of helping me in the rain, another part of me realized that the kindness likely came with intentions attached.

I was out shopping when he called yesterday, and I told him I was busy picking up groceries. He inquired why I did not simply request that he manage it, offering to collect everything for me after he finished work, and he also started begging me to please pick up his calls each time he calls. 

That is when I decided I would no longer answer his calls. I find myself contemplating whether his wife would ever become aware of this aspect of his character, as he is eager to provide financial assistance, gifts, and shopping sprees to a woman he scarcely knows. He was really trying so hard to impress me and his behavior is wrong. Boy, bye. Go face your family.

A Conversation About Body Image

At work, a lady opened up to me emotionally about how she felt that others were indirectly discriminating against her because of her body size.

As she spoke, I could immediately tell that this pain had not begun recently. It came from years of experience, dating all the way back to school.

Bullying.
Comments.
Judgment.
Cruel words.

Things people often dismiss casually but which stay with them for years.

At one point she looked at me and said, “You’re beautiful. You probably wouldn’t understand.”

But in that moment, all I could think about was how powerful words can be.

That conversation reminded me why I compliment people whenever I genuinely mean it.

Recently at work, I passed a woman on the stairs whose outfit looked absolutely lovely, so I told her exactly that.

The smile on her face lit up instantly.

And honestly, that cost me nothing.

People are carrying battles we know absolutely nothing about.

So please, be kind.

Politics, Intelligence, and Disappointment

Lastly, election season brought another unexpected interaction.

I had met one of the candidates previously after recognizing his face on a walk. We eventually exchanged numbers and occasionally spoke about politics, society, and community issues.

I genuinely enjoyed learning more about UK politics from someone directly involved in it.

Eventually, he suggested meeting.

We went for a drive and spent most of the time discussing politics and society, which I honestly found interesting. He is clearly intelligent and well-spoken.

But something about his behavior slowly started putting me off.

The constant attempts to appear overly smooth.
The gestures.
The energy.

And then he suggested another drive the following weekend, this time mentioning Manchester and saying everything would be paid for.

I declined.

Because once again, I found myself thinking about self-control, intentions, and how disappointing it is when intelligent people still behave in ways that make you question their character.

Ending the Week Peacefully

On Saturday morning, I visited our pastor, and honestly, that conversation felt refreshing after such a strange week.

What I appreciate about him is that he speaks about life with wisdom and practicality, not just religion alone. He understands people and human nature deeply.

After everything last week, that conversation grounded me a bit.

And so, that was my week.

A week filled with strange encounters, kindness, discomfort, reflection, human behavior, and reminders about intuition.

Now I’m simply hoping for a quieter, softer, and more peaceful week ahead.

How is Sunday treating you?

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