f4f3 | On With the Motley

My iPod shuffle is having one of those annoying mornings when it insists on playing appropriate tunes.

Anyway.

Glasgow is having a cold, clear Spring morning. Not so cold that I had to de-ice the car, but clear enough that Ben Lomond is visible from the office, and it has snow on it.

Tomorrow, for reasons involving car tax and personal stupidity, I'll be driving up to the cottage and I'll make sure I stop on the Rest and take some photos (although I'm sure my camera phone won't do the view justice). Last time I came over the clouds were about ten feet above my head at the top, and plunging into the valley was like taking a bobsleigh down an oiled snake, overtaking timber lorries and dodging sheep with wanderlust. Tommorrow will be a bit more sedate, I promise, although I want to pick up some Bradan Rost at the Oyster Bar, so no promises (did I post about my lunch at the Loch Fyne Restaurant last week with Maureen Lipman? Did anyone else?).

Tonight I'm going to the poshest sea-food place in Glasgow - not because it's posh, but because it's beautiful. I've never actually eaten there before, although I've had drinks at the bar and eaten at the cheaper cafe downstairs.

Thursday I fly to London, spend the night in Mayfair and, weather permitting, will pay my respects to St James' park with a morning walk, and, if I'm very lucky, get to catch up with some Very Important People (important in a personal sense, although I've no doubt they would be world rulers if they were so inclined).

In the face of all this, it just seems childish to be depressed, so I'm reapplying the wry smile, hoisting my left eyebrow quizzically and getting back in the game.

You have been warned...