Never mind Sarah Jessica Parker et al. The girls and I hit Glasgow yesterday for lunch at Blythswood Square. Departing Edinburgh it was about 25 degrees, blasting sunshine and we were in high spirits. 3 on at Waverley, 2 Haymarket, 1 Linlithgow all present and correct off we sped west for a carry on.
Toasty hot we decided stootering about in hee hiles would end in an early injury so we leapt into a cab. As we got out the poor taxi driver was grabbed and asked to take a photo of us – we thought it would be good to get one before the inevitable collapse of style, grace and mascara. Perched on the steps half of us with our chins up, the other half with chins down he clicked the camera. Thanks! I shouted ‘miss your column in The Sunday Mail ‘ he shouted. Och thanks I said waving and following the rest of them heading gaggingly fast towards the bar.
High stools, round tables and a fabulous cocktail list. Happy Harriets. French Martini – had two. Had too! Lunch 3 courses for £20 – wine, prosecco, coffee and a lot of high jinx. The place was jumping. Afterwards Jane Thomson showed us round including the private viewing room. You can see it here complete with it’s Harris Tweed seats.
It’s WOW from top to toe. The whole place, in the old RAC building has scrubbed up beautifully, with interior by Graven Images it looks and feels opulent, modern and special. Unlike us who by this point were feeling full, half cut and fat. When the spa opens we’ll be back for an overnight sensation we shouted at the rather alarmed looking staff.
By the time we’d finished our tour one of our number was asleep in the gardens across the road as the rest of us stumbled out into the sun and flagged down another taxi, back to the station.
‘There’s a train in 5 minutes shouted Dynamite ‘ as head down we ran for the ticket barrier. After we got thrown off the train to Dunblane we leapt off and found the right one with seconds to spare. The guard ushered us on. We did a head count. One of us was missing. ‘We have to get off!’ You can’t said the guard we’re leaving NOW.
Standing, sweaty and confused we phoned our lost member Kim. Where are you?
I bought a Big Issue it took me 10 seconds and when I looked up you had all gone.
Sorry we cried in unison. It’s Ok I was fed up of the lot of you anyway.
That’s why we love her.
Home to bucketing rain. No jackets, high heels and linen ensured I arrived home looking like Alice Cooper in a dress.
Look at the state of you said the long suffering husband.
I’m sober! I objected.
Yeh right he said eyeing up the sodden streaky slapper that stood before him.
If I was a black belt Ninja he’d have been in big trouble. But I’m not so I just squelched past in high dudgeon enroute to a hot shower, fresh clothes and a large gin. Might as well be hung for a sheep as a lamb.