Birmingham picked up where Glasgow left off

"Oh, Glasgow's so dangerous!" "Glasgow's proper dodgy!" "You better keep an eye out in Glasgow!"

It would seem that the good citizens of the United Kingdom are a bit confused about their city names. Glasgow was nothing but lovely, and I caught no vibe beyond "Oh hya, waelcum tae Glasgow!"

If, however, "Glasgow" means "Birmingham," well then, all right.

I'm staying in a townhouse rented by four uni lads, and we'd been hanging out in the living room since Liam (my host) and I got back from a long walk in the park and got some groceries for dinner. Nothing of importance, just playing Mario Kart and chatting. Bonding, you know. Then Chris (a top bloke) poked his head in and said, briefly, "it's going down in the street outside."

Four men, three with shirts, were pushing a man in a white hoodie around on the sidewalk opposite our windows. We didn't move the blinds; apparently, muggers don't like being watched. The man wasn't being hurt, but he was in danger. I asked if we should intervene, but was told that a) they might have knives, b) we would get the crap kicked out of us, and c) the best thing to do was phone the police.

Before I could respond (or do something stupid involving heroism and using bass guitars as clubs), the man hopped on a bike and rode off, the four muggers chasing him for a bit before giving up and looking in the bag they had lifted off him. Turns out he was a Deliveroo biker, and they had just stolen the takeaway he was delivering. Chris tweeted to the Birmingham police and told me the Deliveroo biker would also have a record of what house he was outside when it happened. Things will probably turn out all right.

The man without a shirt had a scarred back, black lines against the brown, walked down the street, shouting something to his comrade. He carried a pair of handcuffs. One open, one shut. He was a desperate man, and probably a bad one, but he looked at that moment like a superhero.

This is a nation without guns. Nobody died out there. As far as I could tell, nobody even got hurt. In America, the police would have shot them all. Now some poor men have food. I think the Deliveroo driver will be all right. I hope their situation improves to the extent that they don't do it again.

Birmingham is covered in graffiti, and it isn't clever graffiti. Just stylized names, really. And whole walls that are painted with Netflix posters. I keep an eye out here, and I don't go out alone. The park I was taken through was really lovely, though. A proper Victorian job, made with money and cared for, without disruption, for nearly two hundred years. A ballet of flowering trees and weeping willows, spinning in place on a stage of even grass. A pond with swan boats, paths from everywhere to everywhere, mini golf that manages to look charming. An oasis, as parks sometimes must be.

I'm not doing much in Birmingham; maybe I need to lie fallow a bit. It's a long trip.

Love to everybody!