It’s 12.30am on a Friday morning, and instead of being tucked up warm in my double bed, I’m jockeying for a chair nearest the heaters in the City Chamber’s Banqueting Hall. Tonight, the grand space is a hive of activity. “Can all candidates and agents please gather by the screen closest to the mural side of the hall?” directs an official. A cluster of people forms, outfitted in their best semi-casual wear, tailored to political allegiance (think lots of turtlenecks and blazer combos, although SNP councillor Declan Blench has managed to dig up a snazzy pair of sherbert yellow skinny jeans).
We’re all here for the count. A trio of north Glasgow wards — North East, Drumchapel/Anniesland and Maryhill — went to the polls on Thursday. All three departing councillors were Labour, but rival parties clung to hope that they could make headway, thanks to the rocky start of the new UK Labour government down south.
When the results are called, both North East and Drumchapel/Anniesland stay red, as expected, electing Mary McNab and Davena Rankin to replace their departed party colleagues, who had stepped down after becoming MPs.
It’s the compact ward of Maryhill — tipped to be taken by the SNP — that I’m interested in. Triggered by the surprise September resignation of Labour councillor Kieran O’Neill, Lorna Finn, formerly the SNP’s national secretary, and Greens flag bearer Ellie Gomersall, tell me their campaigns for the vacancy have been a “whirlwind”, which is a diplomatic way to say ‘rushed’.
Nevertheless, two days earlier, current Maryhill SNP councillor Abdul Bostani told The Bell that the party had “some confidence” the ward could be theirs tonight. Even Marie Garrity, the Labour hopeful, is a bit despondent before Maryhill’s decision is returned. Garrity’s door chapping has painted a picture of residents furious at the Labour government in Westminster. “I’ve had stalwart elderly Labour voters tell me ‘I’m sorry, I can’t vote for you because of the winter fuel payment [cuts]’,” she says.
An experienced former councillor and domestic violence campaigner, Garrity sensed an off mood on Maryhill’s streets. Some days, there was real momentum, she reports, but on others it felt “very flat”.
In the short term, she needn’t have worried. Just ten minutes later, she’s elected as Maryhill’s newest city council representative — the only Labour victor in all three wards to actually improve her party’s vote share since the last council elections. Yet turnout was seriously depressed. Plus, a sizable Reform swing in every area is enough to put the cat amongst the political pigeons.
I’ve observed firsthand what Garrity means about the mood. Less than 48 hours earlier, I’m struggling with my bike lock on Maryhill Road; in freezing temperatures, it sticks. Bright sun, warming the sandstone blocks of Maryhill’s impressive historic buildings (mostly Victorian and Edwardian), provides a bit of respite. I’m here to do canvassing of my own, asking some of the 14,619 Maryhill residents who can vote in the upcoming election what they make of it — at least, those who’d actually got wind of the contest in the first place.
“I didn’t know [there was one],” says 61 year-old Paula*, out with her octogenarian mother for a mid-morning coffee in the cafe of the supersized Tesco. Normally, Paula says, she’ll always put a vote in, whether for Holyrood, Westminster or local. But not this time. There’s little point: “The only people with political clout are in London.”
A few tables over is Mark, who has a single black Bluetooth headphone bud firmly wedged in his right ear and a walking stick leaning against the faux-leather banquette. He’s also 61, and a Labour man by heritage; his mother was a shop steward. Mark will forever vote Labour, he says, even though he “doesn’t know what this lot stands for.” No one’s chapped his door this time round; in the streets bordering Maryhill Park, where houses are large and detached, two young parents are the only people I chat to who’ve encountered reps for Marie Garrity (she’s got their vote).
Time constraints have forced telling choices; the SNP’s Lorna Finn says her electoral strategy has been to focus on previous party supporters. Finn’s approach could explain why she found canvassing for the by-election genuinely “great fun”, and why she believed the SNP were in with a chance here. What Finn and Abdul Bostani have heard on the (cherry-picked) doorsteps is the same as Garrity: anger at the UK government over fuel subsidy cuts, and small business owners riled by national insurance (NI) hikes.
Yet no Maryhill residents I speak to are backing the SNP. There’s frustration with the local SNP-led authority: key issues are housing (more affordable stock needed), public transport (lack of it) and potholes (too many of them). Flytipping is also high on the agenda. Rose, a 77-year-old I meet waiting for the bus, is an abstaining former SNP voter. “I’m not happy with them at all,” she says.
In a snug Maryhill Road barber shop, I find Charles. He’s worked here for 29 of his 74 years on earth and owned it for the last six. The NI change has annoyed him: he says he’ll be hiring fewer people despite feeling that unemployment is a big problem. Maryhill businesses need more investment, he adds. Since the pandemic, they’re struggling, as are the older men who sit in Charles’ chair, with many choosing between heating and eating.
In Charles’ opinion, Maryhill has deteriorated: “drunkies hanging about” and a lot of shops closing. Plus, new parking emissions charges are losing him custom and he can’t understand why the SNP council leaders are spending money on “stupid things” like cycle lanes, instead of concentrating more funds on homelessness.
He won’t be voting — Charles lives in Stepps — but if he could, he’d back Reform because “Mr. Farage is the only one that speaks his mind”. Lots of his customers over 40 say that’s where they’re leaning too. How does he feel about the fact that David McGowan, the local Reform candidate, is also a member of the Orange Order, I ask? “So am I,” Charles replies cheerfully. He thinks people aren’t as fussed about such divides anymore, not with other matters on the table. “People are more concerned if they can pay for their homes,” he says. “It’s ridiculous. I've got a lot of pensioners saying they’re coming in here for the heat. That shouldn't happen.” As I leave, he tells me to get David McGowan to pay him a visit.
At the count, McGowan took third place, hoovering up nearly 13% of first preference votes. As this result would suggest, I happened across a couple more Reform voters. Both were unfailingly polite and studiously avoided mentioning immigration. Maryhill is a place where many refugees are housed and has, for Scotland, a high degree of ethnic diversity. The majority of longtime locals have been welcoming and organisations like the Maryhill Integration Network work tirelessly to ensure residents old and new know that this ward is a home for all who alight here. But this sentiment is not always shared.
Hi, we're Calum and Robbie, and we run The Bell. This story is in the public interest and totally free to read.
You just need to sign up to join The Bell's mailing list, we'd love for you to see more of our journalism and support our project to bring quality local reportage back to Glasgow's streets. And why wouldn't you? You'll get all our stories in your inbox the second we publish, keeping up to date on this and all our stories. No card details required.
I get a flash of this when asking Paula about the high student population in Maryhill. “There are a lot of students, and, no harm, a lot of…” she pauses and trails off. “They get the best houses and flats.” She outlines a “beautiful” new development that’s gone up by the canal. Something’s going unsaid. Do you actually mean students, I ask?
Paula looks uneasy. “Not just students,” she replies. “Young people. I’m trying to be diplomatic.”
Don’t be diplomatic, be honest, I tell her.
This story is free to read. You just need to sign up to join The Bell's mailing list. And why wouldn't you? You'll get our journalism in your inbox the second we publish, keeping up-to-date on this and all our stories. No card details required.
Already have an account? Sign In
