The high life

DOLLY Murphy gazes out of her window at the view she has enjoyed for more than 40 years. From her vantage point on the fifth floor of one of Glasgow's famous high-rise flats, she can see the bustle of a rapidly changing city.

Down below, she watches lives unfold: an old man shrinks from the biting wind; another man heaves piles of old carpets to the bins; a mother struggles to keep a hat on her baby as her buggy takes on a life of its own.

"There's always something to look at here," Murphy says, "That's why I love it so much. I was offered a house with a front and back door about 15 years ago and I went to see it. But I looked out of the window and all I could see were motors going backwards and forwards, so I turned it down. I wouldn't leave here now – not in 100 years."

Murphy, 77, had been on the council housing list for 20 years – much of it spent living in relatives' homes – when she was offered her flat at the newly built 14-storey Ruby Street block in Parkhead in 1967.

"I went along and was told to pick a key from a box. I had to leave my big old wardrobes behind because the lifts were too small to take them, but I didn't care," she says. "For six weeks, I was the only one living here, but then others started moving in – and it was a great wee community."

Murphy's enthusiastic account of high-rise living captures the optimism that surrounded the building of the city's multi-storeys. On the way to her recently upgraded home, however, I passed blocks that showed the other side of the story: grim looming towers, 25 floors high, which reek of deprivation and neglect.

It is this image – of damp, dingy, high-rise flats and low aspirations – that has seared itself into the public consciousness and was reinforced in the grim but internationally acclaimed film Red Road in 2006.

Most people would prefer these buildings to be erased from the city's skyline (if not its history), and a number of them are indeed scheduled for demolition. But there is an alternative view, that the demolition of buildings within 40 years of their construction is a tragic waste.

Enter developer Paul Mugnaioni, former director of Glasgow housing and founder of property firm Quality Street. Last week it emerged that he has plans for at least four of Glasgow's condemned high-rises. Not only is he determined to save them from being blown up, he intends to turn them into some of the most desirable accommodation in the city.

Stripped outside and in, the multi-storeys would be transformed into the Eco Towers – blocks of "aspirational, but affordable" one or two-bedroom flats complete with dining kitchens, under-floor heating and even home cinemas. There would be 24-hour reception and perhaps even a coffee bar. And as the name suggests every effort would be made to ensure the properties were environmentally friendly.

Mugnaioni's vision is that high-rise living could become as desirable a prospect in Glasgow as it is in the likes of New York or Tokyo – but a great deal less expensive.

"These tower blocks are one of the things that define Glasgow in a very special way," he says, "because whereas in most cities the skyscrapers are all in the centre these are spread throughout the city. And also because they have always been social housing. For this to work we would have to change the reputation of these blocks; to transform them inside and out so they no longer look like social housing."

Mugnaioni knows this is a challenge. "But I believe that when people see what it is possible to achieve, this will take off – not only in this city, but across the country."

So can Scotland's infamous multi-storeys really become a towering success story? Or are these plans to turn them into desirable private residences just pie in the sky? And what is it really like to live the high life?

In the Fifties and Sixties, the high rises that started springing up all over Glasgow and other Scottish cities were a symbol of hope for families who had lived for decades in filthy, overcrowded tenements.

These huge edifices were lauded as pioneering, both architecturally and socially.

It was not long, however, before it became clear that the multi-storeys had problems of their own. Often located in far-flung locations, they left people isolated, and many of the structures soon fell into disrepair.

Within 10 years they had lost their gloss, with the plight of children living "in the sky" captured in Adam McNaughton's 'The Jeely Piece Song' about the difficulty of letting children play out all day when you live on the 19th floor. "Oh ye cannae fling pieces oot a 20-storey flat," he sang.

Particularly controversial were the Queen Elizabeth flats in the Gorbals, built by the Scottish architect Basil Spence which – though visually imposing – soon became as synonymous with deprivation as the tenements they had replaced. More recently, the use of the likes of Sighthill and the Red Road flats to house asylum-seekers caused its own tensions.

Yet even the most beleaguered of blocks are remembered with a degree of affection by many of those who once lived there. On a website called the joy of concrete – much of which is devoted to defending Basil Spence – some former denizens of the now-demolished Queen Elizabeth flats recall the novelty of living in the clouds.

"I live in Oban now, in a middle-class home, but I still reminisce about the times we had in the corridors going along on my bike. It did not matter if it was wet or not, we had somewhere safe to play," says Danny Lauder who lived on the ninth floor. Others recall the drama of the storm of 1968 when the flats swung like a swing, or the characters of the caretakers who kept the place "spick and span".

Murphy, a former machinist, also has lively memories of her time at Ruby Street; of the flaps in the lifts that allowed coffins to be carried horizontally, and which had to be sealed up because muggers would hide in them and then jump out on their unsuspecting victims; of the residents' mass trips to Benidorm, which she helped to organise; and of nights spent watching the Glasgow Green fireworks or the demolition of other blocks from the roof.

At its peak Glasgow had the highest concentration of multi-storeys in Europe. Now there are 201 blocks, the highest rising to 31 storeys. To give some appreciation of density, the eight huge blocks in Red Road can house 4,200 people.

As today's television property programmes never tire of telling us, location has always been a key factor. Unlike those decanted out to new towns like East Kilbride or schemes such as Easterhouse, Glasgow city-centre tower-dwellers were housed in familiar territory and within walking distance of the best the city could offer.

George Fraser, 70, a retired personal development officer, lives on the eighth floor of a 23-storey block in Cowcaddens. "The flats have had a lot of investment and the location is just great," he says. "Whenever I want to go – out to eat, to the cinema, to the theatre – it's all on my doorstep. Marks & Spencer is my corner shop. I have friends who visit from Bearsden and Milngavie, who say they wish they could live here."

It is this middle-class appeal Mugnaioni wants to tap into. He is reluctant to talk about specific sites, but is known to be interested in two blocks in Ibrox and two at Norfolk Court in the Gorbals, where

critics are already wary that the project is an attempt to "yuppify" the area. Whether those who have been moved so the tower blocks can be demolished would resent seeing them filled by those who can afford to buy is also open to question.

Mugnaioni's timing appears to be perfect. Demolition plans are already in place: two blocks in the Gorbals, two in the south side, two in Royston and two in Sighthill already have dates for their demise; but others, including the Red Road blocks, are also to be flattened. Most will be demolished by controlled explosion.

For Glasgow Housing Association (GHA), the notion of selling the flats for redevelopment has its merits. Demolition is costly (£4m for Norfolk Road alone) and can be incredibly complicated. "Deconstructing" the asbestos-ridden Red Road blocks will take longer than it took to build them in the first place.

A price-tag of £6m has been mooted for Norfolk Court. But GHA would be looking for more than just money, they would be looking for benefits to the community: the incorporation of some social housing, for example, or playparks built in the vicinity.

If Mugnaioni gets his way, the Glasgow skyline will be studded with his Eco Towers by the time the Commonwealth Games begin in 2014. The iconic structures that played such an important role in the city's postwar history will be preserved. And the best of what high rises have to offer will be passed to a new generation.