clairedavieswriter

Overnight I learned that, just like the window and the WiFi, a full-size duvet does not come as standard in this all-expense-spared accommodation. It’s hard to imagine the procurement process: “Yes, that’s right – we’d like to order 200 duvets that are a foot shorter than usual.” I suspect only the most petite guests come back for a second visit.

Notwithstanding the cold feet, I had a decent night’s sleep surrounded by my laundry: the bike usefully doubles as a drying rack when hanging space is limited.

There was time for a slightly unfocused ramble round the city before Diane caught the train south.

Wellington was putting on a brave face but I’m pretty sure he didn’t approve of the choice of headgear. Given that he was outside the Gallery of Modern Art, I wasn’t sure whether it was some kind of satirical statement or just a common or garden prank. Modern art can tread a fine line …

St Mungo’s seemed surprisingly modest for a cathedral – and looked in need of some tlc, at least on the outside. Entry was for pre-booked ticket holders only.

In the afternoon I enjoyed catching up with Alicia in the genteel surroundings of Mackintosh at the Willow, over leaf tea and wonderfully fresh scones. For the avoidance of offence to my former West Country hosts, I made sure to have one half cream first, the other jam.

In fairness to Glasgow’s hospitality offering, the corner-cutting EasyHotel was a notable exception to the rule. Diane and I had a delicious and sustaining dinner last night at Pulcinella, a characterful Italian of long-standing. And tonight I enjoyed a nourishing miso soup and Malaysian vegetable curry at a vegan café with a rather surprising name:

Tomorrow: back on the road, to Callander.