Hold your horses!
I left Limey's house at 18.30 Monday night and got home about 09.30 this morning!

I've had to console Diz, talk through the whole weekend with the 'rents (separately, as they have different interests) and start shrinking and playing about with the pics, as well as ordering my thoughts and responding to my emails. And I've had a kip and just eaten dinner.

Photos will come, I promise.
But they'd be nothing without the words.

That sounds promising. They could be misinterpreted without the explanations? :D

Well now. You asked for it.
This is the Cellar GTG (and John Barrowman panto trip) from my point of view.
The other ladies involved both have flashier phones than me, which incorporate cameras, so if you don't like my food/ menu/ people-centric pics you can blame them for not providing any balance.

Not really - I'll write a paeon to them later but the truth is I can't imagine a better weekend without me having won the lottery or perhaps actually meeting captain Jack Harkness.

So. This is my account and starts with my journey.
Dads gave me a ride to Amersham (about 20 miles but saves over a tenner on railfare) at about 16.00. Stupid damned Metropolitan Line was having signal failure. I kept texting my poor old bro with my progress (this line is mostly overground - see a previous thread from when I had blue hair..) In the end I was only 20 mins late and at least he knew I'd be.

We walked up to a Prezzo; it's not all that flash but given I'd been intended to pack sandwiches for the journey I was very appreciative.

My bro with his Pasta Arribbiata, and my Vesuvio with pineapple.
I didn't quite finish mine, but recognised I probably wouldn't fancy cold pizza later that night/ morning.

Ste dropped me off at Euston.
It's previously been described as a big stainless steel sink, that fills up with people and then drains them away.
To be fair, it's had a couple of makeovers, but it's never going to match the old stations with their cantilevered roofs.

This was taken in low light; if you look, the things that are static are reasonably clear, it's only the moving people that are blurred.
Yeah okay - but it wasn't shaky hands!

The second pic is a close-up of the electronic display for my train.
From the top:
Caledonian Sleeper (name of train)
FRONT PORTION (that's me!)
Carlisle
Carstairs
Motherwell
Glasgow Central

That's as far as I go.
If you want REAR PORTION Sheldon might be happy to fill you in.

I'm having some slight difficulty with my i-phone, which is where the late night pussy action videos are currently sitting. Bear with me, I am used to using preformatted vids, not this quicktime nonsense.

Here is my carriage. Sans Prince Charming!
I'd been at Euston since stupid-o'clock (so I could meet Ste) and was watching the boards obsessively. That and the fact I walk fast meant I was the first person into the seated carriage. The train was about 20 carriages long, but the seating is near the front and only takes up the one.

NB - Caledonian Sleeper. The main length of the train is split into berths/ cabins and a lounge car for people with more money than me (aka have made better life choices :))

So I got on and saw that half the carriage was reserved, and half not. Lovely jubbly - less noise and less disruption. But - oh dear. My seat was the second in from the door (to the toilet and the buffet!) and faced across a micro table to another reserved seat. Arrrgh. Don't worry - clever Cherry checked all the other reserved seats and realised no-one was joining the train after Euston (London). So I moved my reserved ticket to a single seat further down the carriage - which was vacant.

A few minutes later I was joined by a Japanese man who had the same issue - his reserved seat was in a block of four. "Don't worry about it!" sez I, "If there's no reservation ticket you can sit there if you prefer."
And shortly after that I was approached by a lovely blonde teen (very good English - perhaps Dutch?) who was worried about putting her baggage on the seat opposite the one she was allocated. Bearing in mind that was supposed to be MY seat I reassured her that no-one was going to get on and claim it.

As it turned out, only half of the reserved seats were even taken up. I think there were about 8 of us in a 30 (?) seat carriage.

I loved it. There was legroom, a buffet a clean toilet, silence and constant movement.

Pics are a shot down the carriage and my seat. Excuse the colouring for the second pic - I was trying to make it match the real colour - it was oranged out by the setting/ flash. Each seat had a pull down table and foot-rest. When I was really tired I retreated to a double seat and used one of the duvets (visible in the luggae racks) as a pillow/ partial wrap. The train was warm enough not to really need to be covered, but it made things cosier.

And here are my slippers, which I changed into as soon as I got on the train.
It's a seven hour journey donchaknow?!

You speak of the "Buffet" what means "Buffet?"
Is place of fooding? On train? How Come this?
http://www.dynamicfoods.com/images/buffet.jpg

Glasgow!
It had snowed overnight - I knew it would as we get national weather reports, which of course include Scotland. It was a lovely lickle powdering - fine to walk through.

For all of this trip I'd done everything through the internet, down to finding out where the local Wetherspoons (chain of cheap and friendly pubs that open early and serve breakfast) were located. I exited Glasgow Central, following the signs for Platform 14 and then Argyll Street as instructed. Yay! There it was, the Moore! I was 10 minutes early, but when you're dragging a heavy bag the last thing you want to do is trudge around the streets...

Ah.... Nope.
A polite and decent member of staff saw me waiting and bothered to tell me they didn't opne until nine (many staff won't, secure in their knowledge of opening times and belief you are a stupid twat).

I've sent an email tot heir Head Office re the incorrect details on the internet, but also in praise of the staff memeber who made an effort to speak to me AND pointed me in the right direction for an alternative breakfast.

Here is a rather blurry shot of Argyll Street.
The closed pub is on the right, at least the overhang gave a clear pavement. The snow at this point is freshly fallen and dusty - nothing like what we encountered later.

A buffet is any type of food service which does not constitute a full or plated meal.

In the case of the train buffet .... actually I do have a menu so I will capture and post it tomorrow.
It means snacks and bits and pieces.
Carried in a bag back to your seat.

Proper, decent people book berths - they get to eat and drink in the Lounge Car. They serve Haggis, Neeps and Tatties there. I don't care - I went somewhere where they did later. That's a tease as I won't be posting about it tonight.

Haggis trailer...

Hmmm, I don't know, but that Corn Cob in Milk that chick is spooning up looks mighty good.

So, fast forward an hour of hanging around and I was comfortably ensconced in The Sir John Moore on Argyll Street. As I was on holiday, and after all it felt like mid-afternoon to me by then, I thought I deserved a beer.

No. You cannot buy alcohol until 11.00 unless you are having a full breakfast, and even then they will only serve you two before 11.00. I had already had a large cup of tea at the exorbitant price of £1.70, AND I'd already eaten breakfast, so I was slightly narked. I bought another cup, thankfully cheaper and retired to study the menu. Below is a picture of the expensive tea, and a detail from the menu, which to those in the know will show the difference between a Full Scottish and a Full English Breakfast. Ask me if you don't know but would like to.

I don't know (and would like to), but I would definitely go for that Scottish breakfast.

Do the give free refills on coffee there like they do here?

I couldn't face another breakfast, and couldn't justify the cost anyway, so I just eked a tea out for a long time. I then struggled with my bags and baggages and had a bit of a wander. No evidence of this as I simply did not have enough hands to accomplish it.

When a reasonable amount of time had passed, I figured I could go and find the guesthouse. I knew I wouldn't have access to the room, but at least I could leave my bags. My plan had always been to come back into town and see some more sights, but I had always allowed that I might be shattered, and indeed I was. The snow put paid to my intention of walking, so I got a taxi to the end of the street.

Here are the views of Kelvingrove from there.
First, Kelvingrove Art Gallery & Museum
Then Glasgow University

And thence to the hotel - The Alamo.
None of my photos of the interior really do it justice, so you'll have to check out their website yourself.