From Polmont

Through to Glasgow. Fool that I am, I'd got a ticket for the Cup game before I remembered that I had a ticket to see the excellent Paul Mason at the book festival. The big questions! And no answers. The rug has totally been pulled from under the belief that we're in control of our journey. Speaking of the journey, I'm on a packed train back with polis and drunk Hibee fans. My own very special version of hell.