Native habitat

“Glasgow is a magnificent city,” said McAlpin. “Why do we hardly ever notice that?”

It’s another sunny day - starting with a visit from Will. He’s considering controlling the grey squirrel population on his bird table, but is worried that he might find it difficult to kill them once trapped. We talk over coffee, then tea, and he leaves with a squirrel trap.

I chip the rest of the hedge clippings in the afternoon. As the pile shrinks to nothing, a shower of rain hurries me up. The chipper safely put away, I drink a final cuppa and head for Glasgow.

First stop, Debs & Mark’s, who have just got off the plane from South Africa, where they’ve been touring for five weeks. Thirty six hours without sleep and they’re wired. I hear tales of outdoor cooking, deserts, Mozambique and mosquitos. They’ve enjoyed themselves, but it’s back to work tomorrow.

Megan and I grab a pub supper at the end of Woodlands Road. She has just finished a shift at the Arlington Baths - the ever popular nudist section. Apparently the naturists queue up for their weekly session, handing over a tenner each to let it all hang out. Mostly elderly men, says Megs.

Finally, to the Mount Florida to collect Owen. He’s coming to redecorate the house. I’m sleepy and he keeps me awake with a constant stream of erudite chatter (or maybe not).