Later, on Broughton Street

Typical. You go for a quiet drink after work on a Friday, and there's some idiot fiddling with his camera balanced on a glass, taking pictures of people having a quiet drink.

Some good meetings through in Glasgow, followed by a drink or several when we got back to Edinburgh. H has developed a new and impressive technique: having said earlier in the week, "we must go and see Giles," who should be on the train but the selfsame Giles? I reckon he should now go round saying things like "we must go and see a friendly client with a spare million pounds to spend."

Got the late train home, sandwiched between three Geordie rig workers and three Weegie lasses heading for a weekend in the Toon. There were times I had to translate for both groups.

A good day, but also a poignant anniversary - an unbelievable fifteen years on from a very sad day.