Grandiose plans were laid. Bank balances were plundered. Heck, we even had Mark and Peta coming up! It was gonna be - another Scottish meet!

Oops.

The day started off promisingly. I got to Glasgow Central just before noon, and promptly bumped into Ardzil, who was - lurking, I assume. We retired to Bonaparte's bar, and, suitably lubricated, awaited developments. We were joined just after 12 by Lost in Scotland, who arrived with enough body armour to equip a riot squad. Scottish meetups can be rough affairs... actually the pads were for his American football game the next day. Or so he claimed, anyway. The first of many text messages were sent to torment Babel-17, who could not be present due to some minor difficulties with 12-hour nightshifts.

Time passed. Wumbeevil approached, followed shortly by SPINY. And there was great rejoicing in the land of Bacchus, not to mention by Bonaparte's accountants. More text messages. I astounded all by turning down the offer of a pint. Surely the apocalypse was nigh?

More time passed. Dr and Mrs V arrived. There was more of the great rejoicing stuff, particularly because Dr EV was acting as the communications hub for the day, and thus we could find out where the italics were. A swift telephonic communication established that they were at the airport, and all was right with the world. After ringing off we then remembered that we had neglected to ask which airport...

Mark and Peta arrived sometime after 2. Great rejoicing, etc. We thought, to go (from this accommodating, not to mention functioning bar to brave the low-level train) or stay? We considered this seriously for at least half a nanosecond, and made our decision. Inertia 1, Plan 0. Besides DD and FC were expected any time soon...

DD and FC arrived, just after 3, etc. etc. We had enough people by now (11) to get the cheaper group tickets at the GSC. Should we go? Tension fizzled damply as I uttered the fateful words 'it closes at six. Probably not worth it.' This was in fact completely wrong, the GSC closes at 9pm on a Saturday. Which I might have remembered if it wasn't for those pesky pints...

So we went to another bar, The Clockwork Beer Co. in Mount Florida (South of the Clyde - bandit country). This on the recommendation of Mrs V. The main recommendation consisted of the words 'beer menu'. I don't think anyone was hurt in the stampede though.

Beer and stuff was duly drunk, twaddle was talked, photos were taken. Time passed. Ardzil left.

At around 9:30 DD, FC and SPINY left to drive back to Edinburgh. An hour or so later the remaining group took the train back into the town centre. Peta was seen to try LiS' armour and helmet for size, but rejected them as too flimsy for use at the moderation helpdesk. An asbestos-kevlar compound is allegedly under trial...

We retired to Ha! Ha! (yes, that is the name) for a wee nightcap. Myself and the Vs left shortly thereafter to catch last buses and trains, and everyone else was chucked out at closing time.

But hey, we had fun.

Thanks to Lost in Scotland for the approximate times that things happened