f4f3 | The Red Hot Curried Eyeballs Strike Back

Another work night out. Not even my team, but I'm a whore for good food so I had a very nice meal at Arisaig in Hope Street. It used to be something else, but then, didn't we all? The food was excellent, and the company good if blokish. I was out with our team of Technical Architects (it's an IT thing. They don't make buildings, but, as the immortal Mr Shiach used to say "I design universes"). We closed the restaurant around midnight, and I ended up in the piano bar of the Corinthian (yes, the same Corinthian I moped around last week) till it shut at mumble o'clock.

I did manage to ruin "Piano Man" by asking if anyone in the history of the world had ever drank a Tonic and Gin, and spent a while talking to someone who had done law at Glasgow 20 years after me. She confirmed that the fresh faced constitutional law lecturer I had in first year is now a grizzled veteran.

So, a good night, and no harm done that a shower, sauna, egg roll and bottle of irn-bru won't put right...