I was asked if it was a 'nice' hotel I'd stayed at while in Glasgow. And it was indeed. Located in the centre just round the corner from Sartis, an impressive facade, colourful lobby and central stairwell, it was very very nice. And I nearly replied as such, aside from having issues with the actual word 'nice', which is a nothing of a word, but in actual fact I said 'err...on reflection, no'. It was crap. And I say this because as I was asked, I was stifling back the most enormous yawn that was in danger of separating my upper and lower jaw.
A hotel is, at its very least, somewhere to sleep. And this I comprehensively failed to do. A bed I had to step in to, rather than climb on, and noise from all directions that had me up and about from 3.30. There was plenty of time to think and ponder about stuff, while I watched students roll home, the bin men cleaning after them and deliveries made for breakfast. An early run out, the Clyde was like a mirror. It was warm, but overcast, very humid. A brief stop on the Millenium Bridge for some photos and thoughts.
