Well, I’m in Glasgow and it’s damn good to be back in Scotland. There’s a crispness to the cold up here that just feels right to my system and I always feel a sense of returning home when I leave the airport because of that.

Yesterday was not a great day. London’s public transport system was conspiring to mak my life more difficult that it really ought to be. Three separate transport problems made my journeys into minor nightmares. I’m not gonna dwell on that, though. Instead, I’m going to talk about my holiday. Be glad I don’t have slides to show you.

The flight was a dream. Given that it cost us less than the price of the tickets to the airport (Stanstead, if you care) we did well there. Admittedly, Lorna did sulk a little when I was distracted by the sight of the stewardess tying the inflatable lifejacket straps across her bum right by face, but that’s nothing I won’t pay for weeks for. Never mind, it was worth it.

The train from the airport to Glasgow was dirt cheap - subsidised travel - and enjoyably shabby. The taxi driver to the hotel was chatty and cheerfully informed us that our hotel’s in the west end: the best place to go out at night. Bodes well for this evening.

And the hotel…

Initially they gave us the keys to Room 101. You’ll understand why this made me nervous. When we got there, it was a twin room. This is not what I booked. We marched back downstairs and demanded (OK, asked politely) if it could be changed. They only had one double left.

So, here I lie in a bed big enough for four (not that I’ll be testing that out), listening to Lorna washing two rooms away. Yes, we’re in the Kelvin Suite for the price of a budget room. Result!