A good day for a bathtub boat ...

We had lunch in Glasgow today - our regular date with my cousin and his wife in a routine that began after we'd buried the last of the previous generation and decided we'd better create social occasions without involving any more mortality. By the time we'd walked to the pier (all of 10 minutes) from our house, we were both boiling - boiling, in Dunoon, at 11 o'clock in the morning. Unheard of. So here we are on the upper deck of the Argyll Flyer, as if we were having a wee cruise to Capri instead of across the Clyde. The ferry crossing, so often cancelled because of weather, mechanical failure or both, was positively pleasurable.

Glasgow was cloudy when we got there, but still warm enough to spend the whole day in a shirt. It felt like a continental city, which it often does - so many nationalities, so many Glasgow voices. We used the Subway to get to Kelvinbridge for lunch in our favourite Italian restaurant and managed to fit in a little shopping in town before coming home.

We both fell asleep on the train. Poor old souls ...